---
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Yuki sat on Harukoo's old bed, the sheets still bearing faint traces of his scent. She curled her knees to her chest, eyes fixed on the empty wall across from her.
No posters. No messy shelves. No scattered notebooks.
Just silence.
And absence.
She had always thought he'd be here—quiet in the background, invisible yet present. She never expected him to actually leave.
Not for good.
Not like this.
---
Maria was asleep.
Or pretending to be.
Yuki could hear her breathing through the thin walls, slow and heavy. Their mother had spent the last few weeks living in a haze of regret. She would whisper apologies into the night. Sometimes she called Harukoo's name in her sleep.
But Harukoo never answered.
He didn't even respond to their letters anymore.
---
Yuki stood up.
Her bare feet touched the cold floor.
She walked to his desk. A faint layer of dust covered the surface. A few old pens remained in the corner cup. One had his name etched into it.
She picked it up.
Turned it over in her hand.
Clutched it tightly.
And then she cried.
---
Flashback
She had always known Harukoo was different.
He wasn't loud like other boys. He didn't pick fights, didn't beg for attention.
But he was always there.
When their mother forgot to pack her lunch, Harukoo shared his.
When she was sick, he stayed up, pressing cool towels to her forehead.
And yet, she ignored him.
She watched as Maria pushed him further away. She watched as he stopped smiling. And she did nothing.
Because it was easier.
Because loving him—truly loving him—felt dangerous.
---
But she loved him.
In a way that made her chest ache and her thoughts blur.
She knew she wasn't supposed to. He was her brother, even if not by blood.
But still… she did.
She didn't understand it at first.
Why her heart raced when he got close.
Why she was secretly jealous of the girls he smiled at.
Why her chest burned the day he left and never came back.
---
And now, it was too late.
Harukoo wasn't just gone—he had become someone else.
Stronger. Confident. Wanted.
He had someone by his side now. Silva.
Yuki hated how perfect she looked next to him.
How effortlessly she leaned on his shoulder.
How he let her in when he shut everyone else out.
Including Yuki.
Especially Yuki.
---
That Night
Yuki couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his back as he walked out the door.
No goodbye. No glance back.
She slipped out of bed and wandered to the living room.
Harukoo's photo—one of the few that still existed—sat on the corner table. A tiny, blurry snapshot from middle school. He was smiling, holding a prize ribbon, eyes bright.
She touched the glass gently.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"I should've stopped Mom. I should've told you I needed you."
She clenched her fists.
"I should've told you I loved you…"
Her voice cracked.
"But now you love someone else."
She sank to her knees, tears splashing onto the floor.
"I just want to see you again. One more time."
---
Meanwhile…
Harukoo lay in bed with Silva, her hair draped over his chest like silk. The warmth of her body calmed him. Her breath tickled his skin.
She stirred slightly. "You're awake?"
"Yeah," he whispered.
Silva opened her eyes, looking at him with quiet affection. "Something bothering you?"
He hesitated. "My sister."
Silva didn't flinch.
"She loved me, but… not like a sister should."
There was silence.
"She never said it. But I felt it."
Silva reached up, brushing his cheek. "And what do you feel for her?"
Harukoo closed his eyes.
"Pity. Guilt. But not love. Not anymore."
Silva leaned in and kissed his temple. "Then that's all that matters."
---
Back at Home
Yuki sat alone, clutching the photo to her chest.
In her heart, she knew she had crossed a line.
But it didn't matter anymore.
He wasn't hers to cross it for.
---