Third day.
Still no Hikari.
Still no "yo" from behind messy bangs.
Still no broken bag zipping itself open like a failed magic trick.
Still no earbud tug-of-war or morning chaos gremlin energy sitting beside me.
Just... absence.
And my stupid self waiting like a background character in a romance anime.
---
I check the platform longer today.
Just a second. Maybe two. Maybe… okay, five full minutes.
That's not stalking. That's environmental awareness.
People flow around me like I'm a forgotten umbrella stand.
No Hikari.
The train doors open with a sigh, and I hesitate.
Then — and I'm not proud of this — I check the other carriages.
Yup. Full-blown train station detective.
Car A: No chaos energy girl.
Car B: Businessman asleep against the window. Definitely drooling.
Car C: Screaming toddler. Escape quickly.
Car D: Empty seat. Feels accusatory.
Nothing.
I return to our car and sit in our seat like an idiot ghost retracing his death scene.
---
I plug in my earbuds.
No music.
Just… the wind.
Okay, metaphorically. It's an underground train. There's no wind.
Still.
I don't press play right away.
Because the second I do, I'll hear her hum in my head. And that's worse than silence.
---
At one point, I actually consider asking the conductor.
"Excuse me, sir, have you seen a short girl with a chaotic aura, constantly breaking her bag and my emotional stability?"
Yeah, that would go great.
He'd probably call security.
So I don't.
Instead, I ride the whole way like a statue with jazz on loop.
I don't even look out the window.
Because all I'd see is the reflection of the empty seat.
---
Flashback.
She had a lollipop that day. A blue raspberry one. Smelled like melted candy nightmares.
"You ever tried mixing jazz with sugar high?" she said, sticking the candy into her cheek like a pacifier.
I had said, "That sounds like an auditory crime."
She shrugged and played Neon Ramen at full volume.
I still have tinnitus.
---
Flashback again.
Splitter cable got tangled. We both grabbed the same earbud at the same time.
Tiny finger-on-finger contact.
Immediate eye contact.
She said, "Whoa. We're anime now."
I said nothing.
Because I forgot how to speak.
Brain: blue screen of death.
---
Last flashback.
She was tired. No jokes. No candy.
Just leaned her head against the window... then, slowly... onto my shoulder.
I didn't breathe for three stops.
She didn't say anything after. Neither did I.
We never brought it up.
That silence felt like a secret pact.
And now?
It feels like a promise one of us broke.
---
I open my messages.
Again.
Look at the text from two days ago:
"You okay?"
Still unread.
Still nothing.
My fingers hover.
Type. Delete.
Type again.
Pause.
Finally, I write:
"You good?"
(Too casual.)
Backspace.
"Is this seat reserved forever or what?"
(Too passive aggressive.)
Delete.
Eventually, I go with:
"Hope you're okay. Just checking."
It's pathetic. It's sincere.
I send it.
Then toss the phone facedown like it just insulted my ancestors.
No reply.
---
The train arrives. I get off.
The walk to school is colder than usual.
Which is weird, because it's summer.
But I guess that's what absence does.
It creates its own weather system inside your ribs.
---
I go through the motions at school like I'm stuck on 0.75x speed.
Talks sound muted. Class feels irrelevant.
Even lunch tastes like chalk.
Makino asks if I'm dying.
I say, "Probably."
He nods, unconcerned, and returns to eating four steamed buns at once.
---
At home that night, I try drawing.
It doesn't work.
Every page becomes a sketch of her, even when I try to draw literally anything else.
A leaf? Becomes her hand holding a lollipop.
A cat? Becomes her with bedhead.
A soda can? Somehow turns into her broken bag with a juice stain.
I shut the book.
Lie down.
Plug in my earphones.
I don't even open Next Stop. It hurts too much.
Instead, I play a different playlist — something faceless. Random.
But the melody still finds me.
Her hum still sneaks in like a ghost through the wire.
---
I fall asleep eventually.
And dream.
Not of her, exactly.
But of the train.
Empty.
I'm sitting in the same spot.
Same car.
Same morning sunlight slicing through the fogged glass.
But the seat beside me is vacant.
Not just empty — like, no longer exists empty.
Erased.
The music's playing.
But only in one ear.
And the sound?
It's wrong.
Like hearing your favorite song slowed down until it sounds like a funeral march.
I look to my side, even though I already know.
No Hikari.
Just a faint outline. A warmth that used to be there.
And then—
The train screeches.
Sparks fly.
Doors open.
But no one gets on.
Just wind.
Again, metaphorically.
And I whisper her name once, in the dream.
It echoes.
Then nothing.
---
I wake up with my heart trying to climb out of my chest.
Grab my phone.
Check for a reply.
Still nothing.
The message is just sitting there.
Like me.
Like the playlist.
Waiting.
---