The night didn't end.
It just… thinned out.
Haruka stood there on the rooftop long after his fists stopped moving. The sting had dulled, but not disappeared. It never really did. Pain had a way of settling into him—as it belonged there.
His knuckles were red.
No—worse.
They were trembling.
Not from the hits.
From everything else.
"I still couldn't figure out what sin Atience P. is... he sounds like Patience... that is not a sin... a virtue... maybe that is why he was wearing a white version of Rideous's dress."
He kept thinking.... A wave of realization gradually washed over him, settling deep within his thoughts.
The city stretched below him, glowing like it didn't care. Lights flickered, cars passed, people lived their lives as if nothing in the world had shattered tonight.
He gazed down at his reflection in the rooftop puddle.
He hated his reflection; it only reminded him of the fact that this was not his body. Even though they look the same, he does not belong in here.
Haruka exhaled slowly.
"…Pathetic."
The word slipped out, barely louder than the wind.
He didn't even know who he was talking to anymore.
Himself?
Or the version of him that kept failing?
He leaned against the cold railing, staring down.
For a moment—just a moment—his mind went quiet.
No memories.
No voices.
No expectations.
Just… silence.
And somehow, that silence felt heavier than everything else.
A faint sound broke it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Careful. Not trying to hide—but not trying to be heard either.
Haruka didn't turn.
"…Go away."
His voice was dry, almost emotionless.
The footsteps stopped.
For a second, nothing.
Then—
"You always say that."
That voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
And somehow… persistent.
Haruka's grip on the railing tightened.
"…Yume."
He finally turned.
She stood a few steps behind him, slightly out of breath, her hair swaying gently in the night breeze. Her eyes weren't wide with shock… or fear.
They were steady.
Looking straight at him.
Not at his bruised hands.
Not at his messy state.
At him.
"You shouldn't be here," Haruka muttered, looking away again.
Yume stepped closer.
"And you should?" she replied quietly.
No anger.
No sarcasm.
Just… truth.
Silence stretched between them.
The kind that says more than words ever could.
"I saw you," she said after a moment.
Haruka's jaw tightened.
"Then you should've left."
"I didn't want to."
That answer came too fast.
Too honest.
It irritated him.
"…Why?"
Yume didn't respond immediately.
She walked closer, stopping beside him, keeping a small distance—but close enough that he could feel her presence.
"Because," she said softly, "you looked like you were disappearing. It's our 2nd chance, right? Next time, just fight better to get back your reputation. It really doesn't matter, cause you are mine."
That… hit.
Not like a punch.
Worse.
Like something sinking into his chest.
"I'm fine."
The lie came naturally.
Too naturally.
Yume let out a quiet breath.
"You always say that too."
Haruka laughed.
A dry, hollow sound.
"Then stop asking."
Another silence.
But this one felt… different.
Heavier.
Yume slowly reached into her bag.
Haruka noticed the movement but didn't react.
Not until—
She pulled something out.
That same forehead band.
The one she gave him.
"You're not wearing it," she said.
Not accusing.
Just… noticing.
Haruka looked at it.
Then away.
"It's useless."
Yume tilted her head slightly.
"Is it?"
"It doesn't fix anything," he said, voice sharpening just a little. "It doesn't make me stronger. It doesn't stop people from looking down on me."
His fingers curled again.
"It doesn't change the fact that I'm still… this."
That word again.
"This."
Like, he didn't even deserve a name.
Yume didn't argue.
Didn't interrupt.
She just listened.
And then—
She stepped closer.
Close enough that the space between them almost disappeared.
"Can I?"
She held up the band slightly.
Haruka frowned.
"…Why?"
Yume didn't answer that.
Instead, she gently reached up.
For a split second, Haruka almost stepped back.
Almost.
But he didn't.
Her fingers brushed against his forehead.
Careful.
Slow.
Like she was handling something fragile.
Not the band.
Him.
She tied it around his head, adjusting it slightly.
Fixing it.
Making sure it sat properly.
"There," she whispered.
Haruka froze.
Not because of the band.
But because of how… gentle she was.
"You keep thinking it's supposed to fix everything," Yume said quietly, her hand still lingering for a second before pulling away.
"It's not."
Haruka's eyes shifted slightly.
"…Then what is it?"
Yume smiled.
Not brightly.
Not playfully.
Just… softly.
"It's something that says you don't have to face everything alone."
That line didn't explode.
Didn't shake the world.
But inside Haruka—
Something… cracked.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a small, quiet fracture.
"I didn't ask for that," he muttered, but his voice wasn't as firm anymore.
"I know," Yume replied.
"That's why I gave it to you."
The wind passed between them again.
But it didn't feel as cold this time.
Haruka looked down.
In the city.
At his hands.
At nothing in particular.
"…People don't stay."
The words came out before he could stop them.
Yume didn't hesitate.
"I'm not 'people.'"
Haruka scoffed lightly.
"They all say that."
Yume nodded.
"Yeah."
Then—
"I know."
That… confused him.
He glanced at her.
"But I'm still here, one death didn't stop us, did it?" she added.
Simple.
Direct.
Unarguable.
Haruka didn't respond.
Because he couldn't.
Not right now.
For the first time in a long while—
His mind wasn't screaming.
It wasn't drowning.
It was just… quiet.
Not empty.
Not heavy.
Just…
Still.
Yume turned slightly, resting her arms on the railing.
"You don't have to tell me everything," she said.
"I'm not here for answers."
Haruka blinked.
"…Then why are you here?"
She looked at the horizon.
Where the dark sky was slowly beginning to fade.
"Because you were."
That answer made no sense.
And yet—
It made perfect sense.
The first hint of morning light touched the edge of the sky.
Faint.
Barely noticeable.
But there.
Haruka exhaled.
Long.
Slow.
He didn't feel better.
Not really.
The pain was still there.
The weight hadn't disappeared.
Nothing was magically fixed.
But…
For the first time in a while—
It didn't feel like he was carrying it alone.
And that scared him.
Almost as much as it comforted him.
"…Don't make promises," he said quietly.
Yume didn't look at him.
"I won't."
A pause.
Then—
"But I'll show up."
Haruka closed his eyes.
Just for a second.
The wind passed again.
Softer this time.
And somewhere between the silence, the city, and the rising light—
Something fragile…
Something human…
Began to return.
Haruka only realized that he was stressing over stuff for no reason.
Orpheus has a life to live too... he can't just end it, of course.