The morning bell, which was supposed to signal the start of yet another day, reverberated around him; within the halls, though, Haruto felt the weight of the world slowing his gait. The chattering noise of the students was still heard as usual, but he just did not feel part of this whole scenery, like he was floating through life in a world not precisely his. The sun shone in through the high windows, sprinkling soft rays on the old wooden floor; even its warmth, though, could not banish the chill that attached to his heart.
He had gone into the observatory last night, and the star's calmness could no longer comfort him than on other occasions. He can't quite remember the last time Haruto had been all right.
It was then that a girl appeared in the hall and cut off his musings as he began to walk to class. Haruto paid little heed to her since he was too caught up in his musings. It was when he took in the curious hush that seemed to follow her-murmurs from other students, glances thrown her way, as if all of them were somehow captivated by her presence.
Tall, even to girls within the same grade, she moved with a grace that had set her apart from the humdrum routine of school life from day one, cascaded down her back in rivulets of straight shiny black. She always walked upright, almost as if oblivious to the admiring stare she drew wherever she went.
Soon enough, he found out that she had transferred to his class that morning. It was then announced by the teacher, and Haruto realized she'd be sitting almost right next to him.
The moment Miyuki stepped into the room, there was a moment of silent tension. Her facial expression didn't show anything out of the ordinary, but in her eyes, he had caught a tinge of sadness. She had shifted her eyes, sans silent elegance, to each person, though it wasn't on one more than a second. Slouching next to him languidly, Haruto tried refuting the idea that somehow she managed to shift the atmosphere of the room; that was more than curiosity leaking from the other students anymore, some other deeper allure drawing him in.
Miyuki too, like himself, uttered hardly a word during the whole lesson. They had kept their silence in a kind of quiet solitude, divided by invisible walls from and aloof to all others. It was until the ringing of the class emptied the classroom that he looked towards her again.
She didn't, though others packed. She was standing at the window watching the school courtyard bathed by the soft light of the afternoon sun. She said nothing and was almost extramundane-seeming far, far away, as if in another world.
She had caught his gaze before he could look away; for one second, there was a meeting of the eyes: his dark, with pain held in; her gray as storms, obliquely bright, seeming to shine with comprehension.
"Umm, do you. you ever think like you're just. you know, waiting around?" Miyuki said suddenly in her soft but clear voice, which cut through stillness in the air of a room.
There was a surprise-a spasm of Haruto's eyelids. "For what?
She shrugged a little, her eyes drifting back to the window. "I don't know. It just feels like. everything is on pause. Like we're all just waiting for something to happen, but we don't know what."
Haruto was taken aback when she said that. Her words somehow hit something deep in him-a feeling which he doesn't want to acknowledge. He wasn't ready to speak with her, but then again, there was something in the tone of her voice when speaking that sounded as though she knew exactly what he was feeling-perhaps kept him there.
"Perhaps," said Haruto largely to himself, rather than to her, "we are all waiting for something. We just don't know whether it will come at all."
Miyuki half-turned her face; she looked at him longer than usual and tried on a faint smile, well short of her eyes.
"Yes, probably so," she said softly before returning her gaze to the window.
The silence after that was thick, but he didn't feel the urge to permeate it. Her presence, for some reason, made this room feel a little less constrictive, a little less lonely. It was a strange sort of connection-unspoken, unasked for, but somehow undeniable.
---
Days moved with routine, yet everything felt a little off since Miyuki had come for Haruto. He found himself stealing a glance from her sidewise, noticing the way she seemed to exist in some place and time of her own, never really connecting with the class. Rather than being aloof, it was the quiet intensity that seemed to envelop her, like a child her age carrying a burden too heavy for her years.
Of course, Sakura had noticed; she always did, even when he tried to conceal it.
"Haruto, is everything all right?" she asked one afternoon, full of concern as they sat with each other at lunch. "You've been kinda quiet lately. Is something bothering you?"
He didn't want to lie to her, yet he really didn't know how to explain what had transpired with him. That wasn't all: Miyuki was new, yes, but there was some feeling in her presence-like he stood on a cusp, some threshold beyond which lay-he knew not what.
"I'm okay," he lied, forcing a smile. "Just. thinking things.".
Sakura let it drop, but he knew she didn't believe a word. She had always read him too well, and he hated how she was ever able to see through him. But now, it was easier to just pretend everything was okay.
Later that afternoon, when the sun was starting to set, Haruto was back at the lake. This was the place he always came after school, fascinated by the stillness of the water and how light reflected from it before it faded away during the day. Quiet here, one could think without nobody bothering him.
This time, however, he was not alone.
She had been standing at the water's edge, gazing into the horizon, or waiting on it; and Haruto had been holding himself behind, undecided as to which way to make the advance. But his compunction got the better of him.
"Do you often come here?" he said at last, breaking into the silence.
Slowly she turned her head, the glance meeting his with a bright, unreadable light within. "Sometimes," she said softly. "It is peaceful here."
Haruto nodded, knowing full well what to say. The silence between them was thick with unsaid words, and in that space, he existed.
Finally, Miyuki spoke up again; her voice small, firm, and straightforward. "Sometimes, don't you wonder, are the things we want just out of reach, and maybe we're just waiting for something that'll never come?
The question hit deep inside Haruto as he swallowed. Not knowing how to answer him, he could feel the same unease creep into his chest.
"I don't know," he whispered, "but maybe this is not about what we want but finding contentment with what we have.
The look on Miyuki's face had softened just a fraction, her eyes betraying desperation for something to hold onto, even if it were short-lived.
"I guess you're right," she whispered, barely louder than a murmur. "But at times, peace is something of an elusive dream."
With that, she turned and began to walk away, leaving Haruto by the water, the weight of her words enveloping him.