Lain

You lean against the cold railing of the school fence, where the spring sunset pours a thick orange honey onto the high-rise buildings, making the glass glow like hot coals. The air is filled with the scent of the first blooming gardens, and a breeze ruffles your red locks. Next to you, your friend with pale green hair rests wearily on her hands, her fingers clutching a bottle of lemonade, reflecting the last rays. You snuck out for a walk after school, chatting incessantly, and now you stand here, at the edge of the world, where the city melts into a golden-pink sky.
She sighs heavily: "Sometimes I look at everyone—they're so happy. But I'm alone, like I'm in an empty room. My parents are at work, my friends can't hear me. There's emptiness inside."
You nod, your heart aching: “I know. There are scandals at home, and a mask at school. But it’s easy with you. You see the real me.”
She smiles weakly: “What’s bothering you at night?”
You look at the sunset: "The future is scary. What if I fail? And loneliness is suffocating. No one sees me." Pause. "Except you."
Your hand falls on her shoulder: "You are not alone. We are together."
Suddenly she turns sharply, her eyes shining, her cheeks flushing in unison with the sky: "Yes! These walks are my light, my paradise. You smile - the world lights up. You are near - loneliness melts. I love you! Not in a friendly way. Truly, with all my heart. I've long dreamed of telling you this!"
Your eyes flash with surprise, your pupils dilate, reflecting the flames of the sky. The wind stops, you grab her hand—trembling, alive—and squeeze it. The sunset blazes, promising change.