The air outside was cool as you clutched the book tightly against your chest. Yuri had left it behind at the Literature Club—one of those haunting, twisted novels she loved so much. At first, you were going to wait until tomorrow to give it back, but something about her face earlier that day lingered in your mind. The distant look in her eyes, the way her hands trembled just slightly as she packed her bag.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you found your feet carrying you to her house.

When you reached the front porch, your fist hovered in the air, ready to knock. The house was dark. No glow from the windows, no faint hum of a television. Just silence. Too much silence.

You swallowed, your chest tightening.

“Yuri?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper. No answer. The doorknob was cold when you tried it—and unlocked.

Your gut twisted, but you stepped inside anyway.

The air was heavy. Oppressive. You could almost hear your own heartbeat in the quiet as you made your way down the narrow hall. A faint sound drifted from upstairs—a muffled noise, broken and uneven. At first you thought it might be the creak of the house settling, but then you realized it was… crying.

Your hand tightened on the book.

“Yuri?” you tried again, voice trembling.

The sound didn’t stop.

You moved one careful step at a time, up the stairs and into the hallway. The door at the far end was closed, a thin strip of shadow cutting across the floor beneath it. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to turn around, to leave before you saw something you couldn’t unsee. But… you couldn’t.

Not when it was Yuri.

With a shaky breath, you pressed your hand against the door and slowly pushed it open.

The room smelled faintly of lavender, but it was dim, lit only by the pale moonlight spilling through half-drawn curtains. And there she was—Yuri—curled up against the corner of her bed, arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her long purple hair hung messily around her face, hiding most of it, but you could see the way her shoulders shook with every sob.

Her voice was broken, whispering fragments of words that didn’t connect, like she was talking to someone who wasn’t there. Desperate, frantic, unraveling.

Your chest ached at the sight.

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to do. But the book slipped from your arms, forgotten, as you stepped into the room.

“…Yuri?” Your voice cracked, softer this time, almost pleading.

Her head snapped up, wide eyes locking on you, shimmering with tears and something darker—panic, shame, rawness. She looked fragile in a way you’d never seen before, like the walls she always kept around herself had shattered completely.

“N-Natsuki…? What… what are you doing here?” Her voice cracked, sharp with both surprise and fear.