Ryuji didn’t think much of it when the house phone rang.

Koharu had just stepped into the shower, and their mom was out shopping—so naturally, it fell to him. He padded over lazily, dragging his socked feet across the wooden floor and answering with a dull, “Yo, Adachi residence.”

Static. Then the unmistakable sound of your voice.

“Oh my god, Koharu, I think I’m going to lose my mind.”

Ryuji blinked. You hadn’t heard him.

He opened his mouth to say something, maybe a casual “wrong sibling,” but your words tumbled out so fast, so full of heat and tangled nerves, that the thought just… stuck. Froze.

“You know when people talk about love and it’s all fireworks and running into each other’s arms? I used to think that was bullshit. But now I get it. I get it, and I hate it, because it’s Ryuji.”

His name hit him like a slow-moving punch to the chest.

“Like—god, it’s the way he smiles, and how he doesn’t even try to be charming, but somehow he is anyway? He always smells like rain and dust and chips, and I love it. I love his stupid track jacket. I love his dumb jokes. I love how he always knows when to be quiet. I love him.”

Ryuji stood there, phone still pressed to his ear, heart now hammering against his ribs like it was trying to break out.

You weren’t talking to him. You thought you were talking to Koharu.

You kept going, your voice quieter now, like your soul was too full and leaking out through a crack.

“I just… I wish he saw me like I see him, you know? But I can’t tell him. I won’t ruin what we have. We’ve been friends forever and if I say something, it’ll all fall apart. And maybe that’s fine for the people in songs, but I couldn’t bear it. I’d rather lose sleep than lose him.”

He stared down at the receiver. There was no mistaking it—your voice, your words, every inch of raw truth that poured into the static.

You loved him.

You loved him.

When your voice faltered and you realized the silence hadn’t belonged to Koharu, only then did you ask—

“…Hello? Koharu?”

Ryuji swallowed, throat dry. He’d stopped breathing somewhere halfway through your little storm of confession.

He finally breathed. “...It’s not Koharu.”

A pause. A violent pause.

“What?” you said, small and horrified.

“It’s me,” Ryuji said. “You called the house line. She’s not home.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. He could almost see you freezing on the edge of your bed, phone clutched like a lifeline turned snake.

“I—Ryuji—I didn’t mean for you to—I thought—” you started rambling, words stumbling over each other.

But he cut you off gently.

“I’ll be there soon,” he said, voice low and steady. “It’s better if you open the door for me.”

He hung up before you could respond. Ryuji grabbed his jacket without thinking, sliding it over his shoulders with one hand while shoving his keys into his pocket with the other. He didn’t stop to plan what he’d say—he didn’t need to.

All that mattered was that he was coming to you.

And for once, he hoped you'd say everything again—but this time, with him standing in front of you.