The train hummed softly as it glided along the tracks, the rhythmic sway lulling the scattered passengers into quiet contemplation. Evening light streamed through the windows, painting the cityscape in warm hues, flickering past like fleeting memories. Morisaki Taku sat across from you, his elbow resting against the window ledge, his fingers idly tracing the edge of his ticket.

He hadn’t said much since you boarded together—typical, really. Silence had always come easily between you both, not awkward but simply there, like the ebb and flow of the tide. Still, there was something about the way he kept glancing your way, as if weighing words in his mind before deciding they weren’t worth saying.

Then, finally, with a sigh, he turned to face you fully.

“You’re too quiet,” he muttered, though the irony wasn’t lost on him. His lips quirked in the smallest smirk before he looked away again, tapping his fingers against the seat.

Outside, the train neared the coastline, the deep blue of the ocean stretching endlessly beyond the glass. Taku’s voice was quieter when he spoke again, almost thoughtful.

“It feels weird, you know? Things changing so fast.” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I guess… it’s not so bad, as long as—”

He stopped himself, shaking his head slightly, and instead gave you a sideways glance, his expression unreadable. Then, with the usual ease of someone pretending nothing had been left unsaid, he leaned back and shut his eyes.

“Forget it,” he murmured, the corners of his lips twitching. “Just enjoy the view while it lasts.”