The days pass like sand slipping through my fingers.Fast. Cruel. Unstoppable.
We still meet up — me, Kane, Sayoko, Haru — still goof off, still laugh until our sides hurt.From the outside, everything looks the same.But from where I stand...
Nothing is the same.
Because now, I know.About the cancer.About the fight she's in — the one she hides behind her easy smiles and bad jokes.
It's not certain yet.The doctors aren't sure if it's the kind you beat...or the kind that beats you.
Some days, hope clings to me like a second skin.Other days, fear gnaws at the edges of everything.
And still, I watch her.Always watching.
The way she sometimes stops to catch her breath after laughing too hard.The way she leans against the park bench a little longer than usual, her hand trembling slightly when she thinks no one's looking.
But I'm looking.I'm always looking.
And it guts me.
Today, the four of us hang out by the riverbank, the late afternoon sun pouring gold over everything.Sayoko and Haru are trying to skip rocks across the water, arguing about technique like it's the Olympics.
Kane sits beside me, our shoulders brushing, her laughter bright — but thinner, softer around the edges.I glance over at her — at the way her hair catches the sunlight, at the small, exhausted smile she wears like armor.
And my chest aches.
She notices me staring and raises an eyebrow."What?" she teases. "Is my face too beautiful for you to handle today?"
I choke out a laugh, shoving her lightly with my shoulder."Shut up."
But inside, my heart is a raw, screaming thing.I want to freeze this moment.I want to grab it with both hands and never let it slip away.
Because I don't know how many more of these we'll get.Nobody knows.
Kane leans back on her elbows, tilting her head up toward the sky."I love days like this," she says, almost to herself. "Feels like nothing bad could ever touch us."
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard it hurts, swallowing down the knot in my throat.
"Yeah," I say hoarsely. "Me too."
We stay like that, side by side, watching the clouds drift lazily across the endless blue.
I don't say the things clawing at my chest.I don't say please stay or please don't leave me.I don't say anything.
Instead, I just sit there.Grateful.Hopeful.Terrified.Alive.
With her.
For as long as we're allowed to be.
We walk home together as the sun dips below the horizon, spilling soft pinks and purples across the sky.
Sayoko and Haru are up ahead, bickering about something stupid — probably who skipped more rocks — their voices carrying back to us on the breeze.
Kane and I trail behind.
Not because we're slow.But because... I don't want this walk to end.
I glance down at her — at the way her hands are tucked into her jacket sleeves, her steps a little smaller, a little slower than they used to be.
Without thinking, I reach out.
My fingers brush hers.
For a second, she blinks up at me, surprised.And then — she smiles.Soft. Real.
She laces our fingers together without a word.
The world shifts under my feet, but for once, I don't stumble.I just hold on tighter.
Neither of us says anything.
We don't have to.
The evening air hums around us, filled with the distant chirping of crickets, the occasional laugh from Sayoko or Haru.
But between Kane and me — there's only quiet.Only this small, sacred thing.
Her hand in mine.
Warm.Alive.Here.
I squeeze her fingers gently.
And she squeezes back.
Like a promise.Like a hope we're both too scared to speak aloud.Like something precious and breakable, cradled between us.
I stare up at the sky — at the first stars blinking into existence — and wish with everything I have that time would just stop here.
Just for a little while longer.Please.
The next day, I show up at Kane's door without even texting first.
I have a plastic bag full of random snacks — strawberry milk, her favorite spicy chips, a few candies she used to hoard like a dragon with treasure.
I tell myself it's just a casual visit.
That I'm just being a good friend.
But the truth sits heavy in my chest:I'm scared.Scared of what the doctors might say next.Scared of the future we're both pretending not to think about.
Kane opens the door in a giant hoodie that practically swallows her whole body.
Her hair's messy, sticking up in every direction, and there's a faint flush to her cheeks like she's been napping.
She blinks at me, bleary-eyed — and then smiles.Soft. Sleepy.The kind of smile that could undo a person.
"Yuki?" she mumbles, like she's not sure if I'm real.
I lift the bag."Delivery service. For the world's laziest goblin."
She lets out a small laugh — and god, it's so normal.So alive.
She steps aside, and I follow her into the living room.
It's warm here.
Cozy.
The TV plays some old cartoon at low volume. A half-finished cup of tea sits forgotten on the coffee table.
Kane flops onto the couch, tugging a blanket over her legs.
I sit down beside her, leaving just enough space between us to pretend it's casual.
(But I can feel the space burning.)
She rifles through the snack bag with exaggerated excitement, like it's Christmas morning.
"Ohhh my god, you remembered the spicy chips," she says, hugging the bag dramatically to her chest.
"Obviously," I say, smirking.Trying to sound normal.Trying not to sound like a guy who's memorizing every single little thing about her — just in case.
We sit there.
Watching cartoons.
Passing snacks back and forth.
And for a while, it almost feels normal.
Almost.
But then Kane shifts slightly, pressing a hand against her side like something hurts.
Just a small movement.Barely noticeable.
But I notice.
Of course I notice.
My chest tightens — that familiar ache, the fear I've been carrying like a second skin ever since I found out.
But Kane just grins at the TV like nothing happened.Like she's fine.Like she's invincible.
I don't say anything.
Instead, I grab the strawberry milk from the bag, pop the straw in, and hand it to her without a word.
Her fingers brush mine, lingering a second longer than they need to.
She looks at me then —really looks at me.
And there's something in her eyes.
Something tired.Something brave.Something scared, even if she'll never admit it.
"Thanks, dummy," she says softly, taking a sip.
I smile — small, shaky, real.
"Anytime, goblin."
We go back to watching cartoons.
But I don't really see the screen.
All I see is her.
All I hear is the silent, terrifying what if ringing in the back of my mind.
And somewhere deep inside me, I cling to the hope that this —this moment, this life, this girl —is not going to slip away so easily.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
The next day, I show up at Kane's door without even texting first.
I have a plastic bag full of random snacks — strawberry milk, her favorite spicy chips, a few candies she used to hoard like a dragon with treasure.
I tell myself it's just a casual visit.
That I'm just being a good friend.
But the truth sits heavy in my chest:I'm scared.Scared of what the doctors might say next.Scared of the future we're both pretending not to think about.
Kane opens the door in a giant hoodie that practically swallows her whole body.
Her hair's messy, sticking up in every direction, and there's a faint flush to her cheeks like she's been napping.
She blinks at me, bleary-eyed — and then smiles.Soft. Sleepy.The kind of smile that could undo a person.
"Yuki?" she mumbles, like she's not sure if I'm real.
I lift the bag."Delivery service. For the world's laziest goblin."
She lets out a small laugh — and god, it's so normal.So alive.
She steps aside, and I follow her into the living room.
It's warm here.
Cozy.
The TV plays some old cartoon at low volume. A half-finished cup of tea sits forgotten on the coffee table.
Kane flops onto the couch, tugging a blanket over her legs.
I sit down beside her, leaving just enough space between us to pretend it's casual.
(But I can feel the space burning.)
She rifles through the snack bag with exaggerated excitement, like it's Christmas morning.
"Ohhh my god, you remembered the spicy chips," she says, hugging the bag dramatically to her chest.
"Obviously," I say, smirking.Trying to sound normal.Trying not to sound like a guy who's memorizing every single little thing about her — just in case.
We sit there.
Watching cartoons.
Passing snacks back and forth.
And for a while, it almost feels normal.
Almost.
But then Kane shifts slightly, pressing a hand against her side like something hurts.
Just a small movement.Barely noticeable.
But I notice.
Of course I notice.
My chest tightens — that familiar ache, the fear I've been carrying like a second skin ever since I found out.
But Kane just grins at the TV like nothing happened.Like she's fine.Like she's invincible.
I don't say anything.
Instead, I grab the strawberry milk from the bag, pop the straw in, and hand it to her without a word.
Her fingers brush mine, lingering a second longer than they need to.
She looks at me then —really looks at me.
And there's something in her eyes.
Something tired.Something brave.Something scared, even if she'll never admit it.
"Thanks, dummy," she says softly, taking a sip.
I smile — small, shaky, real.
"Anytime, goblin."
We go back to watching cartoons.
But I don't really see the screen.
All I see is her.
All I hear is the silent, terrifying what if ringing in the back of my mind.
And somewhere deep inside me, I cling to the hope that this —this moment, this life, this girl —is not going to slip away so easily.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.