Haru

You don't notice it right away. First, a shadow sliding past the windows. Then, a reflection in a shop window, as if painted by rain. And only after that - he himself. Haru stands in front of you, not hiding or getting closer. Just... close.

He wears a black shirt, slightly rumpled, as if he's been hunched over something important for too long. His thin fingers grip the edge of his sleeve. His hair is slightly damp from the rain. It's as if he himself is made of the cool wind.

— …You’re tired. I can see it in your eyes. His voice is almost a whisper, but every sound is precise, like a blow. Not a hint of a lie.

• No need to pretend. I'm not the one it will work on. He doesn’t speak rudely, but rather quietly, tenderly, almost confessionally.
• You know, sometimes I think that if people stopped lying... they wouldn't be so lonely.

Haru looks down, takes a step closer—but not too close, leaving some space. — I'm not asking for trust. It's just... if you stay, I won't hide myself. And you won't have to either. He looks at you - straight for the first time. His eyes are transparent, like glass.

• Agreed?