The door shut behind them with a cheerful jingle — Amelia's laugh echoing faintly as she and Sunny disappeared down the street, swept up in celebration.
Laura remained still, watching through the tall studio window. Sunlight spilled in, casting long shadows on the floor, but her gaze lingered only on the two girls walking away.
Axel stepped up beside her, silent for a moment before resting a steady hand on her shoulder.
"It takes guts to call a record like that," he said softly. "You really are an amazing negotiator. But I knew that already."
Laura didn't answer — not with words. Just the faintest twitch of her shoulders, almost like a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Then he felt it — the shift. The slight give in her posture. How her weight seemed to shift subtly, as if the energy that had been holding her upright all morning had suddenly let go.
He didn't comment on it. He just gently guided her toward the couch.
By the time she sat down, her hands had found her lap, fingers loosely curled. She stared at them for a moment before finally speaking — her voice quieter now, not nearly as composed as it had been minutes earlier.
"Don't worry about the interview," Axel said calmly, crouching down beside her. "I'll be next to you the whole time."
There was a pause.
Then Laura placed her hand over his where it rested on her knee — a quiet gesture, deliberate and grounding.
"…Thanks," she murmured. "I'll need you."
Axel simply nodded, thumb brushing lightly against the back of her hand. He didn't try to fix her. Didn't say anything more than what mattered.
He was just there.
---
Sunny had practically bolted back to her apartment after leaving the studio, determination in every step. Zane was coming back — for real this time — and if he was going to see her place again, she wanted it to look presentable, not like the post-popcorn disaster zone it had become over the last two days.
Amelia had followed, naturally. After all, she had insisted on staying the night last night — "emotional support sleepover," she'd called it. So helping clean up? That was part of the package.
At first, the energy was electric. They blasted music, flung open the windows, and scrubbed every surface that dared to gather dust. Amelia danced with a mop. Sunny lip-synced dramatically into a spray bottle. They folded laundry, wiped the counters, vacuumed the rug, and even arranged the bookshelf by color. It was ridiculous. And perfect.
Once they were finally done, they both collapsed on the now neatly pulled in couch, limbs tangled in exhaustion, giggling over how Amelia had somehow managed to get soap in her hair.
"I swear your vacuum has opinions," Amelia muttered, catching her breath. "It tried to eat my sock."
Sunny snorted. "That thing's possessed, I swear."
---
After a long moment of simply enjoying the clean air and quiet space, Amelia perked up. "Alright. We earned it. Time to celebrate."
Sunny tilted her head. "With what?"
"Something delicious, obviously. But not too messy — we just cleaned. So no ramen."
Sunny looked thoughtful. "Sushi?"
"Too risky."
"Crepes?"
"…Ooh. Okay, yeah. Fancy crepes. With strawberries and that chocolate drizzle."
"Sold," Sunny grinned.
---
They headed out together, walking under a sky that had begun to blush orange. The corner café Amelia had in mind was small and cozy, known for its delicate crepes and cute seasonal toppings. They picked out two boxes to-go — one with banana and caramel, the other with matcha and red bean paste. It was Amelia's treat, of course.
"Consider it a pre-welcome-home party," she said.
Back at the apartment, they sat cross-legged on the floor, crepe boxes open in front of them as the soft hum of a comfort show played in the background. At first, it was just idle commentary, bites between laughs. But at some point, Amelia went quiet.
She was watching Sunny — the way her eyes lit up when she talked about how the studio smelled today, how Laura had actually smiled, how she couldn't believe Zane was really coming back.
That's when the weight settled in.
Zane was coming back.
Amelia's thoughts flickered back — to Nico. To how he looked at Sunny lately. How her older brother's stupid, hopeless crush wasn't so hopeless anymore. They'd spent time together, the four of them. And… it had been sweet.
But now?
This changed things.
A pang of protectiveness tugged at her chest… and something else too. Maybe it was discomfort. Maybe fear. Maybe just that annoying itch of not knowing what would happen next.
But then she remembered.
The ramen shop. The way she'd sneak away and spy at Sunny and Nico from a distance. And how Amber had caught her red-handed.
Amber had looked her dead in the eye and said:"You can't decide this for her. Let Sunny choose."
It hadn't been that dramatic — no dramatic lighting, no intense music swell. Amber had said it calmly. Almost gently. But to Amelia, it felt dramatic. Like a line that hit straight in the gut.
Because it was true. And she hated how much it echoed in her head even now.
She'd hated how right Amber was in that moment.
---
Amelia blinked, returning to the present — to Sunny, who was now humming softly and cutting her last bite of crepe with the side of her fork. Still the same girl. Still sweet. Still hers in a way only best friends could be.
So Amelia just smiled. Swallowed her worries for now. Because even if things shifted, even if Sunny's heart did lean toward Zane… Amelia wasn't going anywhere. And Nico would survive.
She just wanted Sunny to be happy.
"…You okay?" Sunny asked softly, picking up on her stillness.
Amelia smiled again, more grounded this time. "Yeah. Just thinking about how incredible these crepes are."
Sunny gave a little laugh, leaning her head against Amelia's shoulder. "You're such a dork."
"Your dork," Amelia said, bumping her gently.
And for the rest of the afternoon, they let the happiness stay.
---
The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the fan in the corner. Zane lay sprawled across the studio's worn-out couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His phone buzzed beside him — a call from his manager.
He sighed and picked it up. "Hey."
"Zane," his voice came through, brisk but not unfriendly. "Got something for you."
He sat up slowly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "Another label thing?"
"Nope. Actually... Euphony Trio reached out."
His breath caught.
"They are doing a big follow-up interview, and they want everyone involved in the collab to attend. Laura — their leader — arranged it. Very proper. It'll be in-person. Tokyo."
"…What?"
"You're cleared. Two weeks off. Train leaves tonight, 7 PM."
Zane blinked. "Wait, wait. You're saying I'm going back? To Tokyo?"
"To Tokyo. For two weeks."
"To them?"
There was a pause on the line. Then, "Yes, Zane. To them."
He stared at the wall in disbelief, phone still to his ear, heart suddenly pounding.
Back to Tokyo.Back to the studio.Back to her.
---
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, phone slowly lowering to his lap.
Sunny.
Her face flickered in his mind — from that last video call. The easy laughter they shared, the way she smiled even when tired. How normal it all felt… until he mentioned he'd be gone for a whole year.
She'd gone quiet after that.
Not cold. Not upset. Just… quiet. Like the wind had gone out of her. And he couldn't blame her. What were they supposed to be now, anyway? What could they be, with all this distance?
It had been a little over six weeks.
Would she still be waiting?
Or had she moved on?
Zane closed his eyes, lips parting for a long breath.
He didn't have the answer.
---
At 7:03 PM, the train slid out of the station.
Zane sat near the window, crossbody bag at his side, suitcase stowed above. He watched the lights blur past, watched the sky darken with every mile. The landscape shifted. His thoughts didn't.
He'd be there in 12 hours.
And whatever waited for him in the morning… he'd face it.
Maybe she would be there.Maybe she wouldn't.
But he was going either way.
---
The train hissed softly as it pulled into the station, its brakes letting out a long exhale — as if it, too, was tired from the journey. The early morning light spilled golden across the platform, casting long shadows and bathing everything in the warmth of summer's dawn.
Zane sat by the window, chin in hand, just as he had on the day he left. The same rust-red flannel, the same black hoodie underneath. A crossbody bag rested against his chest, and his suitcase leaned beside his leg. He looked out at the glowing skyline, heart thudding as the station came into view.
He was here again.
But would she be?
The doors slid open. Zane stepped off the train, hesitant. The wind tousled his hair as he scanned the platform, unsure if he was ready for whatever came next.
And then he saw her.
Running.
Sunny.
Her hair slightly windswept, her sandals thudding against the concrete, eyes wide and already filled with tears.
Zane's breath caught. He froze at first — startled, unsure — but then his body moved before his mind caught up. His arms opened instinctively.
And she crashed into him.
It wasn't graceful. Her momentum nearly knocked them both over, but Zane steadied them. He held her tightly, grounding her — grounding himself.
She clung to him like she was afraid he'd disappear again.
And she cried.
"Zane," she breathed into his chest. "Zane…"
His arms tightened around her. He'd imagined this moment a hundred times — but it was never like this. Not with the way her voice cracked. Not with the way she trembled. Not with the way he suddenly felt something warm prick at the corners of his eyes.
Sunny pulled back, barely. Just enough to see his face.
"…Wait," she said, blinking at him, "are you—?"
Zane smiled softly. A tear slid down his cheek.
"Yeah," he whispered. "You got me."
And that was the first time he ever cried in front of her.
But it wasn't the kind of crying that hurt.
It was the kind that healed.
---
Sunny stared at him — at the tear tracing his cheek, at the way his smile trembled just a little.
She had never seen him like this.
And yet, it didn't feel foreign. It felt right. Like they were finally on the same page, the same rhythm. No more missed beats. No more distance.
Just... them.
She cupped his face gently, fingers brushing the side of his jaw. He leaned into her touch like he'd been waiting for it — needing it.
Then, without another word, she kissed him.
And it wasn't hesitant.
It wasn't shy.
It was everything.
Everything he hadn't said when he left.Everything she hadn't admitted in her messages.Everything they didn't know how to put into words — poured into the space between their lips.
It was breathless. Fierce. Tender.
Like rediscovering a part of yourself you thought you lost.
Zane's hand slid to the back of her head, pulling her closer. She melted into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his flannel jacket, her body pressed against his like she was trying to make up for every second they'd spent apart.
When they finally pulled away, Sunny kept her forehead against his, her breath catching in quiet, teary laughter.
"…It's good to have you back," she whispered.
Zane didn't let go. Not even a little.
"It's good to be back," he whispered back — and this time, his voice was steady.
Hopeful.
Home.
---
The sun had fully risen by the time they began walking — the sky bathed in warm pastels, the streets slowly coming to life. A soft summer breeze tugged at Sunny's hair as she walked beside him, her hand firmly clasped in his. Neither of them said much at first, but that was okay.
Their silence wasn't awkward.
It was full.
Full of glances. Of thumb brushes. Of little smiles they couldn't quite hide.
They wandered slowly through the quiet streets, occasionally brushing shoulders, sometimes stopping for no reason at all just to look at each other. Their steps were light — almost dreamlike. As if neither of them wanted to break the spell.
"I still can't believe you're here," Sunny said softly, after a while.
Zane smiled, squeezing her hand. "I was starting to think I'd never get to see you again."
She flushed, looking away — but didn't let go. In fact, her grip tightened.
They walked a little farther, passing shuttered storefronts and blooming flowerbeds, when Zane suddenly glanced at her sideways.
"…Wait. Have you eaten?"
Sunny blinked. "Oh… no. Not yet."
He stopped walking. "What?"
She smiled sheepishly. "I wanted to clean first… and then I ran out to find you…"
Zane gave her a playful, almost offended look. "You didn't eat just to meet me?"
She laughed. "I didn't want to be late."
Zane shook his head, mock serious. "Unacceptable."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I'm fixing it," he said simply — then took out his phone and searched quickly. "Aha. There. A breakfast buffet. Fancy. Local. Open early."
"Zane…"
He grinned, already tugging her along again. "My treat."
Before she could protest, he stopped in front of a charming glass-fronted restaurant, sunlight glinting off the signage. He turned, gave a wink. And then he held the door for her like a gentleman with a mock bow as she passed through, giggling.
Inside, the soft clinking of cutlery and smell of fresh coffee greeted them. Warm light filled the room. A perfect summer morning.
And for the first time in weeks, they sat together — across a table instead of a screen. No countdown clock. No pending goodbyes.
Just breakfast.
And everything ahead of them.
---
The breakfast lingered long after the plates were cleared — laughter over mango juice, gentle teasing between bites of fluffy pancakes. They talked about everything and nothing. What Zane missed. What Sunny had been up to. Favorite songs. Random dreams. At one point, she caught him staring — soft and thoughtful — and he didn't even try to look away.
When they got to her apartment, Zane paused in the doorway. His eyes scanned the space — clean, warm, cozy.
"…You cleaned," he said with a smirk. "All of this, for me?"
Sunny's cheeks flushed pink. She tried to deflect, but instead, she stepped closer and kissed him — quick at first, then deeper.
He smiled against her lips.
But then neither of them pulled back.
They kissed again, slower this time. Then again, more insistent. It was as if all the weeks they spent apart rushed into that one moment, collapsing space between them.
Sunny's fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt.
Zane's hands found her waist.
And suddenly, they weren't standing anymore.
The couch welcomed them as if it had been waiting. Kisses grew messy. Hands grew bolder. There were murmured names, shared breaths, lingering touches that didn't stop — not this time.
They weren't in a rush.
They had all morning.
And for the first time since they'd parted, they let themselves be selfish.
They let themselves fall.
---
But no rush.
No rush at all.
Zane wasn't in a hurry — not this time. Every kiss was deliberate, every touch gentle, as if he was memorizing her all over again. He didn't reach for her like something to possess — he reached for her like something sacred. Something he had lost. Something he feared he might never hold again.
This wasn't about him.
It was about her.
How she had waited. How she had ached.
How he had left — chasing a future that suddenly felt cold without her in it. How he had swallowed guilt and silence until it turned into something heavier. How he had missed her so deeply it carved hollows in his chest. How the loneliness had grown loud enough that even the stage lights couldn't drown it out. How the doctors said he might feel better in time, but it didn't matter — because nothing they gave him ever felt like her.
Now, finally… she was in his arms again. Warm. Real. Alive.
Her breath hitched when he brushed a strand of hair from her face. He leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, against her skin. "For everything."
Sunny looked up at him — eyes glassy, but steady. "I know."
And that was enough.
He kissed her again. Slower. Deeper.
And as the morning sun crept through the window and painted golden light across the couch, Zane took his time — not to take from her, but to give.
To remind her how deeply he loved her.
To remind himself that this — she — was real.
And he wasn't going to let her go again.
---
That day, they were all over each other.
Not out of urgency.
Not out of lust.
But out of sheer, aching relief.
It was as if some invisible thread had snapped the moment they saw each other — all that built-up longing and sorrow unraveling into touch. Into breath. Into closeness.
Zane's penthouse would be ready after 3 p.m. — his manager had arranged everything. But he didn't care. He didn't even check the time. Nothing else mattered.
Not when she was in his arms again.
They barely moved from the couch. Hours slipped by in a haze of murmured words and shared warmth. Sometimes they talked. Sometimes they just looked at each other — quiet, unblinking, like they were afraid this was all just a dream.
Zane kept tracing his fingers along her arm. Her collarbone. Her waist. Not to tease — just to remember. To ground himself in the fact that she was here.
That he was here.
And every time he whispered something — "I missed you.""I'm sorry.""You're everything." — she would hush him with a kiss. Soft, slow, deep. As if the only answer he needed was this.
His voice was hoarse when he finally said, "You don't know how many nights I couldn't sleep. I'd picture you, right here, just like this…"
Sunny brushed her nose against his. "You could've called."
"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared you'd moved on. Scared I didn't deserve to come back."
Her hands cradled his face. Her eyes were glassy again. "Zane… you never stopped being mine."
His throat tightened.
So he kissed her again.
---
The rest of the day passed in soft waves — confessions between kisses, laughter between tears. They stayed wrapped in blankets, arms and legs tangled like they couldn't stand the idea of parting even for a second.
It wasn't flashy.
It wasn't dramatic.
It was just them — raw, real, and finally together again.
And as the golden light of afternoon spilled in through the windows, Zane thought:
If this is all I have for the next two weeks… it's already more than I deserve.
---
Evening eventually found them, soft and golden, casting a calm over the city. Zane hadn't wanted to leave her side for even a minute, but there were things he had to do — check in, collect his keycard, leave his bags with reception.
But at least he wasn't alone.
Sunny walked with him — her hand looped through his, their fingers locked so tightly it felt like a silent promise. Neither of them said much during the walk. There wasn't a need to. The quiet between them was full. Safe.
When they reached the lobby, Zane stepped up to the desk while Sunny lingered a few paces behind, arms folded loosely as she watched him. The clerk greeted him with professional cheer, confirmed his penthouse suite was ready, and handed over the card.
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. Kusanari."
Zane gave a polite nod, then turned — and the look in Sunny's eyes made his heart skip.
---
They didn't speak as they stepped into the elevator.
The moment the doors slid shut with a soft hiss, the silence snapped.
Sunny launched into him the moment the elevator doors closed, arms flung tight around his neck. Zane caught her without hesitation, his lips crashing against hers like he'd been starving for her all over again. They'd already had each other once today — but it wasn't enough. Not nearly.
This time it wasn't desperate because of absence. It was desperate because of want.
Their bodies moved in sync, already familiar now. Zane spun her gently, pressing her back against the mirrored wall. Her breath hitched when his hands found her hips — then her thighs — lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around him with practiced ease, like her body already knew exactly where it belonged.
There were no more questions.
No more hesitations.
Just heat. Familiar, addictive heat.
Her hands tugged at his shirt collar, his mouth dragged down her jaw to her throat. She gasped softly, head tilting, giving him space to keep going.
They moved quickly. Recklessly.
Every movement laced with urgency, but also with intimacy — like they weren't just indulging, but remembering.
The way she whispered his name.
The way he groaned softly into her shoulder.
The way they lost themselves, again.
They reached the edge almost too fast — because it had been building, simmering, since the moment they saw each other at the station. This wasn't release. This was overflow.
When it ended, Zane leaned his forehead to hers, breathing hard. Their skin was flushed. Sunny's hair was mussed, and Zane's hands were still trembling slightly.
Then came the soft ding.
The elevator had reached his floor.
They exchanged a breathless, wordless look — half laugh, half "what just happened" — and began quickly straightening clothes, smoothing hair. Sunny grinned, flushed and glowing.
Zane shook his head with a quiet chuckle. "I don't even know what to say."
She leaned in, brushing her lips against his cheek. "Then don't."
And they stepped out, fingers lacing together once more — flushed, a little rumpled, but smiling like idiots in love.
---
The city twinkled outside the penthouse windows, but inside it was just the two of them — side by side in Zane's expansive kitchen, surrounded by the soft aroma of garlic, tomato, and whatever else Sunny had decided to throw into the pot.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Zane asked, peering over her shoulder with mock suspicion.
Sunny elbowed him playfully. "You doubt me?"
"Didn't you once burn porridge?"
"That was one time! I got..distracted!"
Zane grinned, leaning in to steal a kiss as she stirred the sauce. "It's fine. I'd burn porridge for you too."
They laughed, the kind that echoes off marble countertops and fills the corners of a home with something warmer than light. Between seasoning, stirring, and sneaking bites off each other's plates, the kitchen glowed — not with the recessed lighting, but with the feeling of being together again.
---
When dinner was ready, they ate by candlelight on the oversized couch in front of his massive wall-mounted screen.
"A screen this big should be illegal," Sunny said with a grin, tucking herself into his side. "You could open a cinema."
"Maybe I will. Just for you."
The film they picked was romantic — soft, classic, full of yearning and slow-burn tension. They were wrapped in each other's arms, warmth settling between them like a blanket… until the scene on-screen shifted. A kiss. Hands trailing over shoulders. Clothes coming undone.
Sunny shifted a little. So did Zane.
Their eyes met. The movie kept playing.
But they weren't watching anymore.
Their lips met again — slower this time, deeper. Familiar now, but still full of urgency. They sank further into the couch as if it could swallow them whole. Clothes were peeled away again. Breathless laughs between kisses. Hands trailing skin that already knew its way.
The third time wasn't like the first two.
It was quieter. Lingering.
Less about catching up, more about staying close — like every movement was a promise that they weren't going to be apart again. Not like before.
---
Afterward, they stayed tangled. Skin to skin. Legs entwined. Zane lay beneath her, arm curled around her back, the other gently combing through her hair as she rested her cheek against his chest.
Despite the travel, despite the exhaustion tugging at his limbs, he stayed awake. Listening to her breathe. Memorizing the weight of her on him. The way her hair tickled his skin. The faint curve of her smile as she drifted to sleep.
He didn't want to blink.
Didn't want to miss this.
Didn't want to risk it vanishing when he opened his eyes again.
---
Eventually, when her breathing evened out completely and her body softened with sleep, he moved. Carefully. Quietly.
He slid out from under her, pulled on his pants, and lifted her gently into his arms.
She stirred only once, just enough to nuzzle closer into his shoulder.
"You're okay," he whispered. "I got you."
He carried her to the bedroom, its dim glow welcoming and warm. Laid her down gently on the bed, pulling the blankets over her like she was made of something rare and fragile.
Then he climbed in beside her. Wrapped her in his arms again.
Pressed a kiss to her temple.
"You really are everything, Sunshine," he whispered.
And this time, when sleep came for him, he let it.Because for the first time in weeks…he was here, with her.And he wasn't going anywhere.