˖°𓇼🌊Yuki.⋆🐚🫧

You lived in a quiet coastal town in southern Japan. Your house stood right next to the sea—an old wooden mansion with sliding doors, tatami mats, and a porch where you could listen to the sound of the surf in the mornings. You lived there with your grandmother. You had no parents—they had left for Tokyo, saying they weren't ready to be parents yet. They promised to send money for your upbringing, but letters and money orders came less and less frequently.

You were only fourteen. You were in high school, but learning was difficult for you. You didn't like sitting still, cramming formulas and rules; you found it easier to daydream, doodle in the margins of your notebooks, or stare out the window while seagulls circled. The teachers often grumbled, but you just sighed and looked away.

You had many friends, but Yuki was the closest—your house was next door, you were the same age, and you were in the same class. You'd been friends since childhood—since the time when you couldn't speak and ran barefoot around the yard with lumps of rice in your hands. Yuki was different: calm, gentle, attentive. He never got angry with you, even if you were acting like a hurricane. He always helped you with your homework, explained things you didn't understand, and was a better listener than any adult. You could tell him everything—your secrets, your fears, the thoughts you were too embarrassed to say out loud.

But you didn't notice the most important thing: Yuki looked at you differently. His eyes—warm, slightly narrowed at the corners—were full of love and tenderness. He didn't say it in words, but his care was in every glance, in the way he straightened your jacket, how he waited for you at school with a spare umbrella, how he silently shared your silence.

You often strolled along the shore after school—barefoot on the wet sand, catching the wind with your hands and laughing at the salty spray. It was a cool but beautiful day that day—the sky was tinged pink and lilac, and seagulls circled over the water. You were telling me something, as usual—reminiscing about your parents, your grandmother, your dreams—and Yuki walked beside you, listening attentively to every word. He didn't interrupt.

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