Haruto's struggle, on the other hand, wasn't with himself but with his family. The expectations his parents had for him—university, a stable career, something "respectable"—clashed with his passion for photography. It was a battle he hadn't wanted to fight, but now, with time running out, it felt like the only thing he could think about.
He found himself in the photography club's darkroom late at night, developing photos he had taken with his friends. Each image captured a moment frozen in time, a fragment of the memories he had shared with his friends. The satisfaction of seeing the prints come to life was bittersweet; it only reminded him of how much he loved this, and how terrified he was of giving it up.
"Still here, huh?"
Haruto turned to see Misaki standing in the doorway, a wry smile on her face. She looked tired, her usual confidence tinged with a hint of exhaustion.
"Yeah," Haruto replied, returning her smile with one of his own. "I guess I needed to clear my head."
Misaki nodded, leaning against the doorframe. "Me too. It feels like we're all trying to figure out what's next, and none of us have any answers."
Haruto's smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of quiet determination. "I think that's okay, though. Not having the answers. Maybe it's about finding the courage to make a choice, even if we don't know if it's the right one."
Misaki's eyes softened, and she stepped closer, her voice gentler now. "You're right. It's just… hard. Harder than I ever thought it would be."
"It is," Haruto agreed, his gaze drifting to the photos hanging in front of him, the faces of his friends illuminated in the dim light. "But we'll figure it out. One step at a time."
For Kaito, expectations were a different kind of beast. His grades were good enough to get him into any college he wanted, and his effortless charisma made it easy for people to assume he would succeed in whatever he chose to do. But that was the problem—he had never chosen anything. Life had always been about coasting, about doing just enough to get by without really committing to anything.
It wasn't until he found himself in the quiet library, unexpectedly running into Aoi, that the weight of his indecision hit him with full force. She was scribbling notes for her latest story, her brow furrowed in concentration. He had always admired her focus, her quiet determination, but seeing it now, in the face of his own aimlessness, felt like a punch to the gut.
"You seem pretty focused," he said casually, dropping into the seat across from her.
Aoi looked up, surprised, and then smiled. "I have to be. I don't want to let myself down."
Kaito's expression darkened, his usual carefree mask slipping for a moment. "What if you don't know what you want to do? What if you're just… drifting?"
Aoi's eyes softened, and she reached out, her hand resting gently on his. "Then maybe it's not about finding a destination right now. Maybe it's about figuring out what makes you happy, what makes you feel something. The rest will come in time."
Kaito stared at her, a strange mixture of relief and frustration welling up inside him. He didn't have the answers, and maybe he wouldn't for a while. But as he looked into Aoi's calm, steady gaze, he felt the weight on his shoulders lighten—if only a little.