𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗹𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗼 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 / 𝗵. 𝗶𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘇𝘂𝗺𝗶

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

there's an eerie silence to this household.

today is her final day. like a bird hatching to flying away in the blink of an eye, 17 years still feels surreal to her.

but it was her dream. her dream to finally move in after being separated for so long, connected by nothing more to her brother through a fuzzy screen and choppy voices, images that couldn't compare to physical contact and warm, secure hugs that felt like home-

though looking back at it, this was probably best. the urge to smack her own brother's head upright, enough to pile into a small concussion, was a tempting option at times.

still, aiya hanamaki cannot help but smile fondly. her older brother was admirable and stupid, especially with his best friends. how she wished she could be just like him, be by his side to express typical sibling banter and support.

to finally stand beside him, eye to eye, was like a dream.

"aiya," her mother spoke softly, idly standing at the doorway, "it's time to go. everything packed?

it's rather strange, honestly. years spent growing up in beige walls, decorated with miss hanamaki's simple taste of minimalistic art and strange prints, or plants delicately placed like a pristine piece of art in every room - every corner your field of vision could perceive. years of becoming an ordinary customer at the local bakery with freshly baked dorayaki regardless of the season, passing by on concrete roads decorated with the chalk of a 5-year-old's mind-

it was hard to grasp all of it would be taken down and stored into a box, quietly, as though nothing ever happened.

aiya mumbled something under her breath in response to her mother, eyes downcast at pine board floorings and bare beige walls. it looked like the first time when they had first moved in; it wasn't much, but she was grateful to have a place nonetheless. a place to call home, a place to be home-

it never quite felt like it.

aiya turned to her mother, a tired smile stretching onto her lips.

"let's go."

the door locked quietly, and never opened again.

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author's corner.

[ tenderlytouchs & sunniethebakubean ' s stories
motivation to make me write again is crazy 

it's midnight rn so i'll make it poetic later ]