The train hummed softly in the late-night quiet.Most seats were empty now, washed in a warm gold from the overhead lights.
Honoka slept in Ken's lap, her tiny fingers holding onto his sleeve. Her head rose and fell gently with his breathing. Ken sat still, eyes half-closed — tired, but peaceful.
Yukino sat beside him. Little by little, her head drifted until it rested against his shoulder. Her hair brushed lightly against his neck. Neither spoke. The silence between them felt like its own small world — fragile and safe.
A soft chime interrupted the moment.Ken's stop.
He didn't move.
Yukino blinked, surprised. She looked up — but Ken stayed still, hand resting protectively on Honoka's shoulder.
Her heart jumped. She should've reminded him.Instead, a quiet, selfish wish rose in her chest.
Stay.
She didn't know why. She only knew she didn't want him to leave again.
The train kept moving. Yukino looked out the window, cheeks warm, fingers fidgeting with her skirt. She tried not to smile — and failed a little.
He stayed.
When their stop arrived, Ken stirred. He opened his eyes and turned to her gently.
"Yukino-san. We're here."
She blinked, still caught between sleep and whatever feeling was curling in her chest. "Ah… okay."
She reached for Honoka — but Ken's hand touched hers lightly, stopping her.
"Don't wake her," he whispered. "I'll carry her home."
Her breath caught. "W-what?"
Ken didn't hesitate. "You both had a long day. Let me do this much."
She stared up at him, heart pounding. Then nodded, voice small.
"…I'll take you up on it."
Ken lifted Honoka carefully, her little hands curling into his shirt. She didn't wake.
They stepped out together. The platform was empty, washed in amber streetlight. Ken walked beside her, Honoka held close, steady and gentle. Yukino walked just behind, hands clasped, heart fluttering.
At her building, she pointed up, flustered. "T-third floor."
He nodded. They rode the elevator in quiet, only the soft hum of machinery and Honoka's tiny breaths filling the space.
At the door, Yukino fumbled with her keys. "Um… p-please come inside. Just to make sure she's okay."
Ken hesitated a second — then nodded. "Alright."
Inside, the apartment was dim and still. Yukino led him to her bedroom, where a small night-light glowed softly.
Ken lowered Honoka onto the bed. She stirred, fingers clutching his shirt.
He froze.
Yukino stepped forward, but Ken shook his head gently. "It's okay."
He sat at the edge of the bed, brushing Honoka's hair with slow care. Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead lightly against hers.
Her breathing smoothed out. She relaxed.
"Good girl," he whispered.
Yukino stood near the door, her eyes stinging. The tenderness in the room felt so real, it was hard to breathe.
Ken straightened, adjusted his coat, and stood. "She's asleep now. I should go. It's late — I shouldn't stay."
He turned toward the door.
Yukino reached out before she could stop herself, fingers trembling as they grasped his sleeve.
"Ken-san…"
He stopped, turning back. Surprise flickered in his eyes.
"I'm not letting you go," she whispered, voice trembling. "Not this time."
Her grip tightened. "You keep disappearing… coming back hurt… shutting us out. I can't pretend it doesn't matter. Where were you? Why was your phone off? Why do you hide everything while you know everything about us?"
The room fell still.Only Honoka's soft breaths filled the quiet.
Ken looked at her — really looked — as if weighing every emotion trembling in her eyes.
When he spoke, his voice was low, steady.
"It's time," he said softly. "I tell you everything."
Yukino's breath caught.
His expression eased — something warm, mixed with pain — flickering through his calm.
"And I'm glad," he murmured, a faint smile touching his lips, "that you're the one asking, Yukino-san. I think… it was always you I wanted to tell."
Yukino's heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.Her voice came out as a whisper.
"Ken-san…"
He looked down at her hand still holding onto him.Instead of pulling away, he covered her hand gently with his own.
Silence filled the room again — soft, warm, alive.Honoka breathed quietly beside them.Two people stood by the door, not quite ready to let go — caught between unspoken truth and a tenderness neither could deny.
A door between hearts — finally beginning to open.