The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual.
I didn't know why.
My alarm hadn't even gone off yet, but somehow my eyes were already open, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling of my new room.
For several seconds, I simply lay there.
Then I remembered.
The school.
The art club.
Himeya.
I immediately pulled the blanket over my face.
"...Why am I thinking about him first thing in the morning?"
My own voice sounded ridiculous in the quiet room.
I rolled onto my side and stared at the wall.
There was no reason for my heart to feel this light.
Yesterday had been nothing special.
I went to school.
I met Kousuke.
I visited the art club.
I ate an onigiri with Himeya.
He walked me home.
That was it.
Normal things.
Completely ordinary.
And yet, somehow, those ordinary things had followed me into the morning.
I remembered him laughing at the convenience store.
I remembered the way he said, "I still do."
I remembered him saying welcome home.
My cheeks became warm.
I immediately sat up.
"No."
I slapped both hands against my cheeks.
"Stop."
There was nobody around to hear me.
That somehow made it worse.
I got out of bed.
Today was going to be normal.
I would go to school.
I would attend the art club.
I would come home.
That was all.
There was absolutely no reason to think about Himeya.
Absolutely none.
My phone vibrated.
I froze.
Slowly, I looked toward it.
A message.
From Himeya.
My heart immediately betrayed me.
I picked up the phone.
Himeya: Morning. You coming to school?
I stared at the message.
That was it?
That was what he sent me?
I narrowed my eyes.
Then typed.
Alicia: Of course. Why wouldn't I?
The reply came almost immediately.
Himeya: Just asking.
I frowned.
Alicia: You woke up early just to ask me that?
A few seconds passed.
Himeya: I didn't say I woke up early.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
Himeya: You're weird in the morning.
My eyes widened.
"Excuse me?"
I immediately typed.
Alicia: You're the one who messaged me first!
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then:
Himeya: See you at school.
I stared at the message.
"That's it?!"
I threw my phone onto the bed.
Then immediately picked it up again.
I didn't know why.
I looked at our conversation.
Then smiled.
Just a little.
"...Silly."
I put my phone away and went to get ready.
School felt different on the second day.
Yesterday, I had been looking at everything like a visitor.
Today, I already knew where some of the classrooms were.
I knew where the vending machines were.
I knew which staircase led to the gym.
I even knew where the art room was.
It was strange how quickly a place could begin feeling familiar.
When I reached the classroom, I found Himeya sitting at his desk.
He was looking at a book.
I stopped at the entrance.
He noticed me almost immediately.
His eyes lifted.
"Morning."
"Morning."
I walked toward my desk.
Then stopped beside him.
"What are you reading?"
"Nothing."
I looked at the cover.
"That's clearly a novel."
"Then why did you ask?"
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Then his lips curved slightly.
I pointed at him.
"You're becoming annoying."
"Annoying?"
I froze.
"Did you just..."
He returned his attention to his book.
I narrowed my eyes.
"Himeya."
"Hm?"
"You're different."
"How?"
"You're more annoying than yesterday."
He turned a page.
"Maybe you're just noticing it now."
I couldn't help laughing.
"Maybe."
I sat down.
A few seconds passed.
Then I felt something land on my desk.
I looked down.
A small carton of milk.
I stared at it.
Then at Himeya.
He was still reading.
I picked it up.
"What's this?"
"Milk."
"I know it's milk."
"Then why ask?"
I narrowed my eyes.
"You're doing this on purpose."
"Probably."
I looked at the carton again.
A memory surfaced.
A younger Himeya.
A younger me.
A sketchbook.
A frustrating drawing.
And a carton of milk placed beside my elbow.
Take a break.
I looked at him again.
"Do you remember?"
He didn't look up.
"Remember what?"
"The milk."
He finally glanced at me.
For a moment, his expression softened.
"Yeah."
"You really remember."
"Some things are easy to remember."
I looked down.
That sentence again.
He had said it yesterday too.
I didn't know whether he understood what those words did to me.
Maybe he did.
Maybe Himeya simply liked saying things that made me overthink.
"Thank you."
He nodded.
"Drink it before class."
I smiled.
"Yes, Mom."
His expression immediately changed.
"Don't call me that."
I laughed.
And just like that, another ordinary morning began.
After school, I went to the art room.
I expected Himeya to leave immediately after walking me there.
He didn't.
He stood near the window while I looked through the sketchbooks.
"You're staying?"
"Apparently."
I glanced at him.
"Why?"
"You might get lost."
"I went to the convenience store yesterday without getting lost."
"That's completely different."
"How?"
"You were following me."
I put my hands on my hips.
"I could have gone home by myself."
"Sure."
"Himeya."
"Yeah?"
"You don't trust me."
"I trust you."
"Then?"
He shrugged.
"I just don't trust your sense of direction."
I stared at him.
"You are unbelievably rude."
He laughed.
I sat down at one of the tables.
The senpai from yesterday handed me a pencil.
"Try something simple."
I looked at the blank page.
"Like what?"
"Anything."
I thought about it.
Then I started drawing.
At first, my hand felt stiff.
The lines didn't come naturally.
I erased them.
Tried again.
Erased them again.
Himeya remained quiet.
He didn't look over my shoulder.
He didn't tell me what to draw.
He simply sat at another table and read his book.
Somehow, that helped.
I didn't have to perform for him.
I didn't have to prove that I was still good at art.
I could simply draw.
After twenty minutes, I finally stopped.
I looked at the page.
It wasn't impressive.
A simple sketch of the window.
The curtains.
The sunlight.
A few plants.
Nothing extraordinary.
But it was mine.
Himeya looked over.
"You drew something."
I glanced at him.
"Obviously."
"No, I mean..."
He paused.
Then smiled.
"That's good."
I looked at my drawing again.
For some reason, those two words meant more than they should have.
"Thanks."
He nodded.
Then went back to his book.
I looked at him.
"Himeya."
"Hm?"
"Look at it properly."
He looked at the drawing again.
"Okay."
"Don't just say it's good."
"I wasn't."
"You looked at it for two seconds."
"I understood it."
"Art doesn't work like that."
"Then explain it."
I froze.
"Explain?"
"Yeah."
I stared at the drawing.
What did I want to say?
I looked at the sunlight.
"The window reminded me of my mother's studio."
Himeya became quiet.
I continued.
"But I didn't want to draw the studio."
He listened.
"So, I drew this instead."
"Why?"
"Because..."
I hesitated.
"Because I wanted to remember something that didn't hurt."
Himeya's expression softened.
He didn't say anything.
And somehow, I appreciated that.
He didn't try to make it better.
He didn't say he understood.
He simply stayed there.
After a while, he nodded.
"I think that's a good reason to draw."
I smiled.
"Yeah."
I looked down at the paper.
Maybe this was what I needed.
Not to forget my mother.
Not to replace those memories.
Just to create new ones beside them.
That evening, Himeya walked me home again.
This time, however, we didn't stop at the convenience store.
I was beginning to suspect that he was deliberately avoiding it because he knew I would buy snacks.
"I have a question."
"What?"
"Yesterday, you said I should come to your house for dinner."
"I did."
"Was that a real invitation?"
He looked at me.
"Of course."
"Then..."
I hesitated.
He waited.
"I want to go."
He blinked.
"Okay."
"That's your response?"
"What else should I say?"
"I don't know. Something."
He thought about it.
"Would you like to come to my house for dinner?"
I laughed.
"That's worse."
"Then stop asking me."
I bumped his shoulder.
He laughed.
Then I remembered something.
"My dad."
"Hm?"
"I need to ask him."
"Right."
I pulled out my phone.
My father answered after a few rings.
"Hello?"
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Are you busy?"
There was a pause.
"Why?"
"Because I want to ask you something."
"That sounds dangerous."
I frowned.
"Dad."
He laughed on the other end.
"Sorry. What is it?"
I looked at Himeya.
He was pretending not to listen.
He was doing a terrible job.
"I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner at Himeya's house."
Silence.
Then,
"Himeya?"
"Yes."
"The boy you grew up with?"
"Yes."
"The one you told me about?"
I glanced at Himeya again.
"Maybe."
Himeya raised an eyebrow.
I turned away.
"Can we not discuss that part?"
My father laughed.
"Alright. When?"
"Tonight."
"Tonight?"
"His mother invited us."
That wasn't exactly true.
But it was close enough.
Himeya suddenly looked at me.
I covered the phone's microphone.
"What?"
"You just lied."
"I did not."
"You did."
"Shut up."
"What?"
I quickly uncovered the microphone.
"Sorry, Dad."
"Are you talking to Himeya?"
"No."
Himeya stared at me.
I stared back.
"Yes."
My father laughed again.
"Sure."
"Dad."
"Alright, alright. I'll come."
My face brightened.
"Really?"
"Of course. I haven't seen that family in years."
I smiled.
"Okay. I'll send you the address."
"Alright. I'll see you later."
"See you, Dad."
I hung up.
Himeya was still looking at me.
"What?"
"You invited your dad too."
"Yes."
"Without asking my mom."
"You said I should come for dinner."
"Not bring your entire family."
"My dad is not an entire family."
"That's not what I meant."
I smiled.
"Too late."
Himeya sighed.
Then he smiled.
"I guess Mom will be happy."
"Your sister too?"
"Haru-nee will probably make a big deal out of it."
I tilted my head.
"She remembers me?"
He looked at me like I had asked something ridiculous.
"Of course she does."
Something in my chest warmed.
"Right."
Then Himeya suddenly stopped.
I took another step before realizing he wasn't beside me.
I turned around.
"What?"
He pointed toward my phone.
"You haven't sent your dad the address."
"Oh."
I looked at my phone.
Then at him.
"Right."
He stared at me.
I stared back.
Then we both laughed.
It was such a stupid thing.
And yet, I liked it.
That evening, I stood in front of my closet for nearly ten minutes.
It was only dinner.
A normal dinner.
I didn't need to dress up.
I didn't need to worry.
So why was I standing there wondering what to wear?
I eventually chose something simple.
When I went downstairs, my father was already waiting.
He looked at me.
Then at my clothes.
Then back at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Dad."
"You look nice."
"Thanks."
He picked up his coat.
"Ready?"
I nodded.
Then stopped.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Should I bring something?"
"Like what?"
"I don't know."
I thought about it.
"Food?"
My father stared at me.
"We're going to someone's house for dinner."
"That's why."
"That doesn't make sense."
"I don't want to arrive empty-handed."
He smiled.
"Your mother would have said the same thing."
The smile on my face faded slightly.
Dad noticed.
He didn't say anything.
Instead, he reached out and gently patted my head.
"Come on."
I nodded.
"Yeah."
Himeya's house hadn't changed as much as I expected.
When we arrived, I stood outside for a moment.
There was something strange about seeing a place I had once known so well after so many years.
My father rang the bell.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
A woman appeared.
For a second, I couldn't speak.
Then her eyes widened.
"Alicia?"
My chest tightened.
"Auntie Mariea."
She immediately smiled.
"Oh my goodness."
Before I could properly react, she pulled me into a hug.
I froze.
Then slowly wrapped my arms around her.
She smelled exactly the same.
Not literally.
But enough.
Something familiar.
Something from childhood.
"Look at you," she said, pulling away to examine me. "You've grown so much."
I laughed awkwardly.
"Of course I have."
"You were this small before."
She held her hand near her waist.
I stared at her.
"I wasn't that small."
"You were."
"Dad."
My father laughed.
Mariea looked at him.
"It's been a long time."
"It has."
They exchanged a warm greeting.
Then another voice came from inside.
"Mom, who is it?"
Footsteps.
And then she appeared.
Haruka.
Himeya's older sister.
Her eyes widened.
"Alicia?"
I smiled.
"Haru-nee."
She stared at me.
Then her face brightened.
"No way!"
She walked quickly toward me.
"You're really back?"
"Yeah."
She grabbed both my hands.
"When did you get so tall?"
I stared at her.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because you were tiny."
"I was not!"
Himeya appeared behind her.
"Welcome to the family reunion."
I turned toward him.
"You."
He was smiling.
I pointed at him.
"You told them I was coming, right?"
"Mom figured it out."
Mariea raised her hand.
"I heard Himeya talking about you yesterday."
I froze.
Himeya froze too.
Haruka's eyes immediately narrowed.
"Oh?"
Himeya looked at his mother.
"Mom."
"What?"
Haruka slowly turned toward me.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing."
Himeya answered too quickly.
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Haruka's smile became suspicious.
"Interesting."
"Don't."
"I haven't said anything."
"Your face is saying it."
"What is my face saying?"
"Everything."
I couldn't help laughing.
My father cleared his throat.
"Should we come inside before this becomes a family interrogation?"
Mariea smiled.
"Of course. Come in."
We entered the house.
And suddenly, the nervousness I had been carrying disappeared.
Not completely.
But enough.
Dinner was lively.
Much more lively than I expected.
Mariea had prepared several dishes.
Rice.
Grilled chicken.
Vegetables.
Miso soup.
And several side dishes that immediately made me realize I had underestimated how hungry I was.
"Please eat," Mariea said.
I nodded.
"Thank you."
Himeya sat beside me.
Haruka sat across from us.
My father sat next to her.
The arrangement felt almost absurdly natural.
Like we had done this before.
Maybe we had.
Just a very long time ago.
Mariea looked at my father.
"How have you been?"
"Busy."
"Still working too much?"
"Haha, yeah."
"Some things never change."
My father laughed.
"How about your husband?"
"Huuuh, that guy, He's like you ya know, busy as always."
"Well, at least he still drops by for a while."
Himeya reached for the grilled fish.
Haruka immediately slapped his hand.
"Wait."
He looked at her.
"Why?"
"Everyone hasn't started."
"Mom said eat."
"She meant together."
"I was going to."
"You were absolutely going to eat it alone."
Himeya looked at me.
"See what I deal with?"
I covered my mouth to hide my laugh.
Haruka noticed.
"Don't encourage him."
"I didn't say anything."
"You laughed."
"That isn't encouragement."
"It is."
Himeya finally took his hand back.
I smiled.
It was strangely comforting.
This...
The arguing.
The teasing.
The way Himeya seemed completely different at home.
At school, he was calm.
Reserved.
Sometimes difficult to read.
Here, he was just someone's son.
Someone's younger brother.
He complained when Haruka stole food from his plate.
He complained when his mother told him to eat slowly.
He complained when his father asked about school.
And somehow, I liked seeing it.
It made him feel closer.
"You've been going to the art club?" Haruka asked me.
I nodded.
"Today was my second day."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"Do you like it?"
I thought about it.
"I think so."
Himeya glanced at me.
I noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You're looking at me."
"I'm allowed to look at you."
"That's suspicious."
He continued eating.
Haruka looked between us.
Then smiled.
I immediately knew what she was thinking.
"Don't."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face is saying it."
Haruka laughed.
Himeya looked at me.
"You've started using my lines."
"Because they're useful."
"That's dangerous."
"Why?"
"Because you'll become annoying."
"I learned from you."
Haruka suddenly laughed so hard that she almost dropped her chopsticks.
"She's got you there."
Himeya sighed.
"Can everyone stop attacking me?"
Mariea smiled.
"You're the one who brought Alicia home."
Himeya paused.
"Mom."
"What?"
"That sentence sounds weird."
"Why?"
Haruka's eyes immediately lit up.
"Mom, don't stop."
"Please stop."
I couldn't hold it anymore.
I laughed.
Himeya looked at me.
There was a little embarrassment in his expression.
But he was smiling too.
And for some reason, I felt incredibly happy.
Halfway through dinner, my father turned toward Himeya.
"So, Himeya."
Himeya looked up.
"Yes?"
"I heard you're still writing."
My chopsticks stopped.
Himeya's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Who told you?"
"Alicia."
I looked at my father.
"Dad."
"What?"
"You didn't have to say that."
Himeya looked at me.
"You told your dad?"
"I may have mentioned it."
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"Why?"
"Because we were talking."
"About me?"
I froze.
"Not everything is about you."
Haruka leaned forward.
"Wait, what did Alicia say?"
"Nothing."
"She said Himeya writes."
Haruka looked delighted.
"You still write?"
Himeya sighed.
"Sometimes."
"What kind?"
"Stories."
My father nodded.
"Your mother said he was always good at writing."
Mariea smiled.
"He used to write little stories when he was younger."
I looked at Himeya.
"You did?"
He immediately looked uncomfortable.
"Mom."
"What?"
"You don't need to tell her everything."
"But it's cute."
"Mom."
I smiled.
"Now I want to read one."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because."
"That's not an answer."
"That's my answer."
Haruka joined in.
"Show her."
"No."
"Come on."
"No."
I leaned toward him.
"Please?"
He looked at me.
I gave him my best innocent expression.
He stared for three seconds.
Then looked away.
"Absolutely not."
I laughed.
"Why did you look away?"
"Because you're annoying."
"You looked away because you were embarrassed."
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"Eat your food."
I smiled.
"Yes, Himeya."
He groaned.
My father and Mariea exchanged amused glances.
I pretended not to notice.
After dinner, my father and Mariea continued talking in the living room.
Haruka helped clear the table.
I tried to help too, but she immediately stopped me.
"You're the guest."
"I can wash dishes."
"No."
"I don't mind."
"I know."
She smiled.
"That's why I said no."
I laughed.
Himeya was carrying dishes toward the kitchen.
Haruka pointed at him.
"You're not a guest."
"I live here."
"Exactly."
"Then why am I doing everything?"
"Because you're my little brother."
"That doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to."
He looked at me.
"Help me."
I blinked.
"Me?"
"Yes."
Haruka smiled.
"Go on."
I followed Himeya into the kitchen.
The room was quieter here.
I stood beside him at the sink.
He handed me a plate.
I rinsed it.
He washed.
I dried.
It was such a normal thing.
Something people did every day without thinking.
But for me, it felt strangely special.
"You're still bad at drying dishes."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"You leave water spots."
"I do not."
He pointed.
"Look."
I looked.
There was a tiny spot of water on the plate.
I stared at it.
Then him.
"That's one."
"One is enough."
I splashed a little water toward him.
He stepped back.
"Hey."
"Oops."
"You did that on purpose."
"Maybe."
He picked up the dish towel.
I immediately raised my hands.
"Don't."
"You started it."
"Himeya."
He moved closer.
I stepped back.
"Don't you dare."
He stopped.
For a second, we stared at each other.
Then he laughed.
"You've always been easy to tease."
"And you've always been annoying."
"Yet you're still here."
The words were simple.
But something about them made me pause.
Yet you're still here.
I looked at him.
"Yeah."
He looked at me.
I smiled.
"Because I want to be."
His expression softened.
Neither of us said anything for a while.
Then Haruka's voice came from the doorway.
"Are you two washing dishes or having a romantic drama?"
I nearly dropped the plate.
"HARU-NEE!"
Himeya's face turned red.
"Stop saying weird things!"
Haruka laughed.
"I'm just asking."
"We're washing dishes!"
"Then why have you been in here for ten minutes?"
"Because there are dishes!"
"There's like five."
Himeya looked at the remaining dishes.
Then at Haruka.
"...Go away."
She laughed and disappeared.
I covered my face.
"Your sister is such a teaser."
"She's worse at home."
"Well, that's Haru-nee."
"You'll get used to it."
I lowered my hands.
"Will I?"
He looked at me.
"Yeah."
There was something about that answer.
As though he had already imagined me being here enough times that it didn't seem strange.
I smiled.
"Okay."
Later, I found myself sitting in Himeya's room.
I hadn't expected to.
But Haruka had gone downstairs with my father, and Himeya had suggested that we could look through some old things.
I sat on the floor while Himeya searched through a box.
"What are you looking for?"
"Something."
"Very specific."
"Thanks."
He finally pulled out a small photograph.
Then stopped.
I leaned closer.
"What is it?"
He handed it to me.
I looked down.
And froze.
It was us.
Years ago.
Much younger.
I was holding a frame.
Himeya was standing beside me with the most normal face.
I burst out laughing.
"Why do you look like that?"
"Because I didn't know how to pose."
"You didn't even smile."
I looked at the picture again.
My younger self was smiling.
A real smile.
The kind that didn't need effort.
I touched the edge of the photograph.
"I remember this day."
"Yeah?"
"My mom drew us in her canvas."
...
"Yeah, I looked cute on that canvas, and you..."
I immediately looked at him.
"Don't start."
He laughed.
I smiled too.
Then my gaze returned to the photograph.
There we were.
Two children.
Before all the things that had made life complicated.
I looked at Himeya.
"Do you think we're different?"
He sat down beside me.
"Of course."
"That's not what I mean."
He understood.
I could tell.
I looked down at the photograph.
"Do you think we're too different now?"
Himeya was quiet for a moment.
Then he shook his head.
"No."
I looked at him.
"How can you know?"
"Because you're still you."
My breath caught slightly.
He continued.
"You're older. You've changed. I've changed too."
He looked at the photograph.
"But I still know you."
I didn't answer.
He looked at me.
"And you still know me."
I smiled.
"You're still annoying."
"There."
He pointed at me.
"Proof."
I laughed.
"Maybe you're right."
I placed the photograph carefully on the table.
"Then..."
I hesitated.
"Can we make more memories?"
Himeya looked at me.
"What?"
"Not just old ones."
I smiled.
"New ones."
For a moment, he didn't say anything.
Then he nodded.
"Yeah."
A small smile appeared on his face.
"I'd like that."
My heart felt strangely warm.
I looked away before he could notice.
"Good."
Outside the room, I could hear Haruka laughing.
Then my father's voice.
Then Mariea calling everyone downstairs.
The house was noisy.
Warm.
And alive.
I looked around Himeya's room.
It wasn't particularly special.
A desk.
Books.
A few shelves.
A bed.
Some things that looked like they had been there for years.
But tonight, it felt different.
It felt like somewhere I belonged.
Not because I had lived here.
Not because it was my home.
But because someone inside it remembered me.
Someone had kept a place for me in his memories.
And perhaps...
I had kept a place for him too.
When my father and I finally prepared to leave, Mariea packed food for us.
"Auntie, you don't have to."
"Nonsense."
She placed several containers into my father's hands.
"Take these."
My father laughed.
"Thank you."
Haruka hugged me before I left.
"Come again."
"I will."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She smiled.
Then looked toward Himeya.
"Make sure she comes back."
Himeya sighed.
"Why is that my responsibility?"
"Because you're friends."
Haruka looked at me.
I smiled.
"He's responsible for me now."
Himeya stared at me.
"Wait, what?"
I laughed.
"Good night, Himeya."
"You can't just say that and leave."
"Good night."
I stepped outside.
My father followed.
Then I turned around one last time.
Himeya was standing in the doorway.
The porch light illuminated his face.
For a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then I walked toward him and kissed his cheek.
"See you tomorrow."
He was surprised.
And then,
"See you tomorrow, Alicia."
I walked away.
After a few steps, I turned around.
He was still there.
I smiled.
Then continued walking.
My father glanced at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Dad."
He smiled.
"You seem happy."
I looked ahead.
The night air was cool.
The street was quiet.
And somewhere behind me was a house filled with people I hadn't seen in years.
I thought Himeya beside me.
The old photograph.
The promise to make new memories.
I smiled.
"Yeah."
My father looked at me.
I hugged my coat a little closer.
"I think I am."
And maybe that was enough.
I didn't need to understand what this feeling was.
I didn't need to name it.
I didn't need to decide what Himeya meant to me after all these years.
For now, I was simply happy that tomorrow existed.
Because tomorrow, I would see him again.
And perhaps the day after that too.
Maybe we'd make another ordinary memory.
And perhaps, little by little...
The years we had missed wouldn't feel so empty anymore.