Reina's Perspective
The lab was back to its usual quiet, humming softly as I worked on the journal. After spending a few days getting the basics down, I realized I'd need a structure if this was going to be more than just a collection of sketches and scattered notes. I wanted this to be something that could guide even a novice through the mysteries of space, from simple observations to more complex theories. Levels of difficulty would be helpful. Maybe I could make each section progressively challenging, building up layers of knowledge.
It felt like the right way to bring order to this whirlwind of ideas, but I knew I couldn't do this alone. I turned to my old computer, flipping it on and pulling up a few websites where I might find an artist and writer to help bring this to life. I started searching, losing myself in the profiles and portfolios of people who might bring something unique to the project.
In the middle of my search, a faint tapping at the door interrupted my focus, but I ignored it, figuring it would stop soon. But then, the knocking persisted, growing more insistent until I finally realized someone was waiting outside.
I opened the door, and to my surprise, it was Himari, looking small and a bit out of place, holding a small paper bag in her hands. She glanced up at me quickly, then down at the floor, fidgeting nervously.
"Um… I wanted to thank you for letting me stay in the lab the other day," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She extended the bag toward me. "I… made some cookies. I hope you like them."
I blinked, a bit taken aback by her gesture. "Thank you," I replied, trying to sound as natural as possible. I accepted the bag and gestured for her to come inside.
The moment she stepped in, I returned to my desk, pulling up different profiles of writers and artists. Occasionally, I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She seemed content to sit quietly, but after a few minutes, she started asking questions, small ones at first, about the journal and what I was working on.
"What's this journal for?" she asked, peeking over my shoulder.
"It's… a collection," I replied, keeping my tone neutral as I typed. "Of my observations and theories about space. I want it to have different levels of difficulty so that anyone who reads it can progress in understanding."
"Oh… so, like… a guide for people?"
"Sort of." I typed a few more lines, my mind already drifting back to my search. "It's not really a guide. More of a… journey, I guess."
She nodded, her gaze fixed on the pages I'd written so far. "And do you plan to, like… publish it or something?"
The idea hadn't even crossed my mind, and I paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Maybe. But for now, I just want to make it clear and complete."
Her questions kept coming, one after the other, and each time, I'd answer with the shortest response I could manage while focusing on my work. I wasn't trying to be rude—I was just too deep in thought to elaborate much. Finally, though, after a couple of hours and countless profiles, I found someone who might be the right fit: an artist with a knack for cosmic illustrations and a respected journalist with a talent for explaining complex ideas simply.
I let out a small sigh of relief and turned away from the screen, only to notice Himari watching me, her expression a mixture of curiosity and hesitation. It took me a moment to fully realize she'd been sitting here for quite some time, listening to my brief, cold responses without complaint.
"Oh," I murmured, more to myself than to her, "you're still here."
Himari's Perspective
The moment Reina opened the door and let me inside, I felt as if I'd entered another world. The lab was quiet and focused, filled with that same serious, almost mysterious air that Reina herself carried. I took a seat, setting my bag down and watching her work. She moved so quickly between her notebook and computer, as if her thoughts were too fast to capture.
She didn't seem to mind me asking questions, even if her answers were… brief. I'd heard about her intensity from other students, but this was the first time I'd seen it up close. It was both intimidating and, in a way, inspiring. I couldn't understand half of what she was saying about her journal project, but I tried my best to keep up.
After a while, though, the silence started to get to me. Her gaze, fixed on the screen with that otherworldly focus, was fascinating to watch. Her deep, starry eyes almost looked like they belonged somewhere else—another planet, maybe. As I continued to ask her questions, I felt a strange sense of… comfort, even if she wasn't giving me much attention.
Then, finally, she turned back to me, a slightly startled expression crossing her face.
"Oh, you're still here," she murmured, sounding genuinely surprised.
I stifled a giggle. She looked so confused, as if she hadn't realized I'd been there the whole time. I couldn't help but feel a little triumphant.
"Yeah, I… I wanted to know more about your work," I said softly, clutching my hands together. "It's amazing, really. All these sketches and notes about space. It's like you're… well, like you're exploring it without even leaving Earth."
Her expression softened a bit, as if she were unsure how to respond. "It's… necessary. If I don't document everything, it's easy to lose track. Especially with how vast space is." She paused, glancing toward the door. "But it's getting late. I should be heading home."
"Oh, right," I mumbled, feeling a strange sense of disappointment. I got up to leave with her, hoping I hadn't overstayed my welcome.
We walked to the door together, and I noticed that as we were leaving, she gave me a small, awkward smile—her lips barely lifting, but enough to feel sincere. It was the first time I'd seen her try to be… friendly, maybe. She looked as unsure as I felt, but it was somehow reassuring to know that I wasn't the only one feeling awkward.
"Thanks for… the cookies," she said, her voice softer than before. "They were… nice."
I smiled, watching her fumble slightly with the words. It was strange seeing someone as composed as Reina struggle with something as simple as a goodbye. I could tell she was trying, in her own way, to be friendly. It made her seem more… human.
Reina's Perspective
As Himari walked away, I watched her retreating figure, feeling a slight pang of guilt. She'd been so patient with me, asking all those questions and enduring my distracted, clipped responses. I hadn't meant to ignore her—it was just hard to switch between working and socializing. Even now, saying goodbye felt awkward, as if I didn't quite know the right words.
I closed the door, glancing back at my desk with a faint smile. It was strange, but Himari's presence hadn't been as intrusive as I'd expected. Her curiosity had been genuine, and she hadn't seemed to mind my curt replies.
Maybe… just maybe, I'd invite her back someday.