I didn't think silence could be this loud.
Not the normal kind—the comfortable one where everyone's just doing their own thing. I mean the kind that shows up when someone's missing and refuses to leave.
Yuna.
Yeah. It's her.
No one says it out loud, but it's obvious.
Ren pretends he's fine. Which is funny, because he's terrible at pretending. He stands at the vending machine longer than necessary, like it's going to give him life advice instead of a drink.
He used to buy two.
Now he doesn't.
That's how you know something's wrong.
Mio notices everything, of course. She doesn't say much, just leans on the railing like she's watching a movie she already understands. Sometimes I think she knows how all of this ends and just doesn't want to spoil it.
Me?
I try to keep things normal.
Which is hard when normal included four people, and now it's three.
—
We were at the pier again.
Same place. Same boards. Same ocean.
Different feeling.
Ren stared out like the waves owed him answers.
"They don't talk back, you know," I said.
"They don't need to," he replied.
Yeah. Definitely not fine.
Mio glanced at him. "You're thinking too much again."
He didn't deny it.
That's when you really know.
—
Meanwhile, Yuna's probably doing her "quiet thinking face" somewhere in that big city. The one where she looks calm but is actually overanalyzing everything.
She does that.
A lot.
Her texts still pop up, though.
That part hasn't changed.
Ren's phone buzzed, and I swear the guy came back to life.
Just like that.
Yuna: Walking home.
Simple.
But somehow it fixes things.
Or at least makes them less broken.
He types slower than usual. Like every word matters more now.
I lean over his shoulder. "Wow. Deep conversation."
"Go away," he says.
I don't.
—
Later, he tells her to save him something sweet.
She says she will.
Like that's normal.
Like distance isn't sitting right there between them.
Like promises don't get harder when people aren't in the same place.
—
I kick a pebble into the water.
It skips twice.
Not bad.
"You miss her," I say.
Ren doesn't answer.
Doesn't have to.
Mio looks out at the horizon. "We all do."
Yeah.
We do.
But here's the thing no one's saying—
It's not just the big moments.
It's not the goodbyes or the calls or the dramatic stuff.
It's the small things.
The extra drink.
The shared snacks.
The space next to you that used to be filled without asking.
—
Summers used to feel simple.
Now they feel… stretched.
Like something's pulling at them from both ends.
Still holding.
But not the same.
Summertimes are coming.
And if this is just the beginning—
Yeah.
This summer's going to be a problem.