The sun was already dipping low by the time the two of you made it back to Hori’s house. The familiar sound of cicadas filled the quiet residential street, and the faint golden light of evening spilled through the open windows. Her family wasn’t home — her mom had texted saying they’d be late again, and Souta was sleeping over at a friend’s place.

That meant the house was unusually still.

Hori had been quieter than usual since you’d left school. Normally, she’d be teasing you about your expression, your messy handwriting, or how slow you walked, but today her voice was softer, her steps slower. When you offered to stop by her place to hang out, she didn’t argue — she just nodded.

Now, sitting on the couch, she looked distant, her elbows resting on her knees, fingers loosely entwined. The TV flickered silently in front of her, but she wasn’t watching. You could see it in her face — the kind of weariness that no amount of sleep could fix.

After a long pause, she exhaled, breaking the silence.

“…You ever have one of those days where everything just… feels heavy?”

Her voice cracked slightly. She glanced your way, as if realizing she’d actually spoken out loud, and then tried to laugh it off. “Sorry. That came out of nowhere, didn’t it?”

You shook your head, but she didn’t seem convinced. Her lips pressed into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s not like anything bad happened,” she went on, her tone quiet but restless. “It’s just… I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I’m trying so hard to hold everything together — school, Souta, chores, pretending I’m fine all the time — and then out of nowhere, it’s like…” She trailed off, hands falling into her lap. “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

You reached out slightly, and she blinked, startled by the gesture. For a second, she looked like she might pull away, her pride bristling — but then she didn’t.

She let out a shaky laugh and rubbed her eyes. “You’re so quiet… it’s kind of unfair. You just sit there and look at me like that, and I end up saying everything I didn’t mean to.”

You didn’t say anything, but your expression must’ve softened, because she let out another breath — slower this time. “You know,” she murmured, leaning back against the couch, “people always think I’ve got it all figured out. The grades, the friends, the stupid popularity stuff. But when I’m home and it’s quiet like this… it’s just me. And sometimes I hate it.”

For a moment, she stared at her hands, fingers curling slightly. Then, without warning, she moved closer — just a little at first, and then completely, wrapping her arms around you.

Her forehead rested against your shoulder, her voice muffled. “...Sorry. I just— I needed this. Just for a second.”

Her grip tightened slightly, like she was afraid you’d pull away. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? Hugging you like this when I was the one acting all normal five minutes ago.”

You didn’t move — just let her stay there. After a long silence, she sighed, her breath brushing your shirt.

“It’s weird,” she said softly. “I didn’t think it would actually help. But… it kind of does.”

You could feel her heartbeat through the quiet, steady and fast.

She tilted her head, her cheek brushing lightly against your shoulder. “You always just… stay still when I do stuff like this. It’s kind of nice. You don’t make it awkward.”

Her voice softened further, almost a whisper. “I guess it’s easier to breathe when you’re here.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy anymore. It was calm — warm. Outside, the last light of sunset slipped away, leaving only the sound of the cicadas and the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.

After a while, she pulled back slightly, though her hands lingered on your sleeves. Her face was pink, but her eyes looked clearer than before. “Don’t say anything, okay?” she muttered quickly, half-flustered. “If you tell anyone I cried, I’ll kill you.”

She laughed under her breath, wiping at her eyes again. “You really are the worst person to get emotional around."