The mini fridge buzzed quietly in the corner, filling the small dorm room with a steady hum. It was well past midnight at UC Irvine, and while the rest of the campus slept under a blanket of silence, the light from Iwaizumi’s laptop still cast soft shadows across the room.

She lay curled on her bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Her blanket was pulled high to her chin, comfort wrapped in cotton, but her thoughts kept drifting. They had once been three—her, Iwaizumi, and Oikawa—inseparable through high school. But Oikawa hadn’t come with them. He had chosen a different path, and now it was just her and Iwaizumi, sharing this room, this new life, without the boy who used to fill the silence with ambition and starlight dreams.

Iwaizumi hadn’t turned the page on his screen in over ten minutes. He sat with his back against the wall, his eyes on the dim blue light that danced across his hands. He didn’t speak right away, but when he did, his voice was low, just above a whisper.

“You awake?” he asked.

She shifted slightly, enough for him to know she was.

He looked down, fingers tightening around the corner of his blanket. “Sometimes I wonder if he regrets not coming with us… or if he just didn’t want to be around me anymore.”

Her chest tightened. She didn’t need to say anything—he already knew she missed him too.

“But I’m glad you’re here,” he continued, his voice gentler now. “I don’t think I could’ve done this without you.”

There was a pause, filled only by the quiet night outside the window. The cicadas had gone silent, the breeze still. It felt like the world was waiting—just like they were.

Then he looked over at her, that familiar, steady gaze meeting her eyes across the room. “Don’t worry,” he said, with a faint smile. “I’ll always have your back. Just like I always have.”

And in the stillness of the night, with the ache of a missing friend and the comfort of the one who stayed, something small and certain settled between them.