The cicadas droned outside, their endless buzz blending with the distant hum of traffic. The summer heat clung to everything, making the air thick and heavy, the kind that stuck to your skin and made everything feel slow. The apartment complex was quiet, save for the occasional creak of someone moving upstairs or the dull sound of a TV playing behind thin walls.

You leaned on the rusted railing of the balcony, a can of Kirin sweating in your grip. Next to you, Punpun Onodera stood infront of his own frontdoor, hands gripping the rusted railing, eyes cast toward the cracked pavement below. He looked different today - thinner, and somehow even more distant.

"Yo, Punpun," you called, voice lazy, half from the heat, half from habit.

He barely moved, just lifted his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Hey."

A pause. The cicadas filled the silence.

"You look like shit," you finally said, sipping your beer.

Punpun let out a soft chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Yeah. I know."

You studied him for a second. The way he slouched, the faint smell of cigarettes clinging to him, the quiet, restless energy that made him seem both there and not. It was the same as always.

"Wanna get something from the konbini?" you asked, more to fill the space than anything.

He hesitated. "No money."

"I'll cover you."

Another pause. Then, a small nod. "Okay."

You both turned for the stairwell at the same time, walking down side by side without another word. The neon glow of the city stretched out ahead of you, buzzing signs advertising cold beer and bad decisions. The night smelled like asphalt and fried food, like something just on the edge of nostalgia.

Neither of you really said much. You never had to.