Koah pov
It took me exactly thirty-seven minutes, two cups of lukewarm coffee, and three full drafts before I hit send.
Hey. I'm Koah. You don't know me exactly—but we've crossed paths. Through Ruelle. I hope this isn't weird.
And then I waited.
I'd spent hours staring at Nova's Instagram over the past few weeks—not in a creepy way, just… watching her world through filters and moments. The candid laugh with her dog in the garden, the polaroid-style shot of her fingers hovering above piano keys, the quiet mirror selfies with captions that read like snippets of poetry. She didn't post often, but when she did, it felt deliberate. Personal.
Still, I wasn't expecting her to reply.
And yet—ten minutes later, she did.
Koah. The "bio guy," right? Ruelle mentioned you once. You're not weird. Unless this is a prank. Then yes, very weird.
I stared at my screen, heart thudding. She was sharp. Witty. And most importantly… she replied.
We talked. First it was surface-level stuff—our shared suffering over back-to-back science courses, favorite classes, mutual complaints about 8 a.m. labs. But somewhere between her rant about a TA who graded in red ink and my confession that I once spilled coffee on a cadaver model, the conversation shifted.
She asked what kind of music I listened to. I said eclectic—mostly alt-pop, cinematic instrumentals, a little grunge. She sent a screenshot of her playlist. We had four artists in common. I told her how I rewatch Inception at least once a year. She sent a gif from the movie with a single caption: Leonardo DiCaprio deserves better.
We both played Firewatch. Loved Oxenfree. She used to write poetry in the Notes app and never let anyone read them. I told her I do the same with unfinished songs.
It was like opening a door neither of us knew existed—one message, then another, and suddenly it was past 2 a.m. and we were still talking.
You're easy to talk to, she wrote.
You are too, I typed back. Then hesitated. Deleted it. Then typed again.
Wanna hang out sometime? Like… in 3D?
She sent a thinking emoji. Then, Sure. As long as I don't have to pretend I like soda.
Deal. I grinned. I'll even bring coffee.
I spotted her before she saw me—sitting near the back corner of the bookstore café, legs tucked beneath her, sipping something from a blue ceramic mug. A thin paperback anime volume rested face-down on the table. She was dressed in an oversized cream hoodie with a tiny embroidered Totoro near the hem, sleeves swallowed her hands, and a pair of round headphones rested around her neck like an accessory.
She looked up, met my eyes, and smiled—soft, real. My nervous energy settled a little.
"Hey," I said, sliding into the chair across from her. "Nice hoodie."
She tugged at it playfully. "Thank you. Totoro gives me social courage."
"Then Totoro and I owe each other something, because I needed this meetup more than I realized."
She laughed, a sound that made my chest feel lighter.
Within minutes, the awkwardness dissolved. It was uncanny—like we'd just picked up a conversation we hadn't finished rather than starting a new one.
It started with anime.
We went from Jujutsu Kaisen to Death Parade, then Attack on Titan, Mob Psycho, Vinland Saga, and of course, Your Name. Our favorites overlapped. When they didn't, we debated. But even the disagreement felt fun—alive.
"Okay, wait," she said between sips of coffee, "favorite character ever. Like, the one you'd actually fight for."
I leaned back. "That's so unfair. I have, like, a top five for different genres."
Nova raised an eyebrow. "Coward's answer."
I laughed. "Fine. It's Levi Ackerman. He's efficient, deadly, and emotionally repressed. What's not to love?"
She gave an approving nod. "Good choice. Mine's hard to pick but I think… Nana Osaki. She's pure chaos but also, heartbreakingly loyal."
I didn't miss the glint in her eyes when she said that.
"Sounds like someone you know?" I asked gently.
That's when her smile turned nostalgic.
"I have friends like that," she said. "Ruelle, Nomi, and me—we're like this chaotic little trio that shouldn't work, but does."
She paused and twirled her spoon around the rim of her empty cup.
"Ruelle's… like this hidden galaxy. Quiet, but when she speaks, it sticks. She's the kind of person who makes silence feel like a warm blanket."
"And Nomi?" I asked.
Nova chuckled. "Nomi's a handful. The kind of person who knows the answer before you finish the question. Always has a hot take. Super forward. But she loves loudly, and she'll fight the world for her people. She drives me crazy and I love her for it."
I liked the way she talked about them—with honesty, affection, no filter.
"Sounds like anime archetypes," I said teasingly. "Mystery girl, tsundere best friend, and chaotic support character."
She grinned. "Exactly. And I'm probably the awkward but loveable one who gets emotionally wrecked halfway through the season."
"Then I'm the nerdy transfer student with a tragic backstory who thinks he doesn't belong until he meets the weird girl with headphones."
That made her laugh—really laugh. Her head tilted back, cheeks flushed, eyes bright. I wanted to take a mental photo and keep it forever.
There was something surreal about sitting in a world of new books and older music while feeling this… ease. The conversations didn't feel rehearsed or measured. She told me how she binge-watched Haikyuu!! during a flu week, how Ruelle once cried over Clannad and denied it for months, how Nomi once ranted about Demon Slayer for an hour straight just because someone mispronounced Zenitsu's name.
It was like being handed a glimpse into another life—a pocket of joy and loyalty I hadn't realized I was missing.
I didn't want to leave.
So I didn't.
We stayed until the café dimmed the lights and someone politely reminded us they were closing. As we stood, she tugged her hoodie sleeve nervously.
"This was fun," she said. "More than I thought it would be."
"More than I hoped it would be," I admitted. "So… we should do it again?"
Nova gave me a small nod. "Yeah. We should."
And as we stepped into the cool night air, walking side by side without saying much at all, I knew something rare had begun—something warm, slow, and quietly electric.