The shoreline was nearly empty, the evening sun dipping low, casting gold and gray across the restless waves. The salty breeze tugged at Aiyumi's hair as she walked hesitantly along the wet sand.
She had followed him here, knowing he often came to this quiet spot to think. Her heart ached, but she couldn't stay away.
"Ren… please… talk to me," she called softly, her voice trembling like the waves at their feet. "Just… just tell me why you're like this."
He stood a few meters ahead, facing the horizon, hands buried in his pockets. The wind caught his hair and jacket, making him look distant, unapproachable.
"I said don't keep asking me these questions," he said, voice low and sharp, like the jagged rocks beneath the water. "If you do… I won't talk to you next time. Do you even understand that?"
Her chest tightened. Every word he spoke felt like a sting, yet she couldn't stop herself.
"I… I just… I just want to understand! Please, Ren! I… I can't bear it when you're so distant!"
He didn't turn to her. The waves crashed loudly, masking her quiet sobs.
"You're… impossible sometimes," he muttered, almost to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. "Why do you make it so hard to just leave things alone? I can't… I can't handle it if you keep clinging like this."
Aiyumi sank to her knees on the damp sand, letting tears fall freely, mixing with the sea spray. She crawled toward him, voice trembling, desperate:
"Ren… please… I don't care how you speak to me… even if you're angry… I'll stay… I'll take it all… I just… I can't lose you!"
He finally looked at her then, jaw tight, eyes stormy. The cold mask was still there, but a flicker of something else — guilt, pain, love — shone through.
"Aiyumi…" he whispered, voice rough, almost breaking. "You… you love me too much. It… it's… too much sometimes. I don't know how to handle it. I just…"
He stopped, staring at the crashing waves instead of answering her.
"Ren… please…" she whispered again, clutching his sleeve like he was the only anchor in her world.
For a long moment, the only sound was the sea, wild and endless. He didn't scold, didn't push her away, but neither did he move closer. The tension between them was raw, electric, like the wind whipping over the waves.
And in that silence, heavy and heartbreaking, the truth lingered:
He hurt her because he loved her too much, and she endured it because she loved him even more.
The horizon stretched endlessly before them — vast, restless, and unresolved — just like their hearts.