When the Walls Crumble

Hana hadn’t planned on drinking that much. It was supposed to be a simple night out with some old friends from university. A few drinks, a little laughter, some catching up. But somewhere between the first and fourth glass, the alcohol had loosened something inside her. Maybe it was the stress of the past few weeks, or the weight of her unresolved feelings for Yuki, but as the night wore on, the cracks in her usually composed facade began to show.

The laughter around her felt distant, muffled by the haze creeping into her thoughts. Emi’s face kept flashing in her mind, uninvited but persistent, and with it came the storm of confusion, regret, and anger. The kiss, the betrayal, Yuki’s pained expression—it was all too much. The weight of it pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. She found herself standing, almost without realizing it, her legs unsteady under her as she navigated her way out of the bar.

The cool night air hit her face like a slap, but it did little to clear her foggy mind. Hana stumbled, trying to get her bearings, but her thoughts were jumbled, the past and the present colliding in an endless loop. Yuki… What had she done? What had she ruined?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a message from Yuki.

“Are you okay?”

Hana stared at the screen, her hand trembling as she tried to type a response. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to explain that she was falling apart inside, that the walls she had so carefully built around her heart were crumbling.

Instead, she typed back, “I’m fine. Just needed some air.”

But that was a lie. She wasn’t fine, not at all. And she couldn’t lie to herself anymore.

Without thinking, her thumb hovered over the contact for Yuki. She hadn’t meant to reach out, not like this. But the need to hear her voice, to feel some connection, some sense of reassurance, was overwhelming. She pressed the call button before she could talk herself out of it.

It rang once, twice, three times before Yuki picked up.

“Hana?” Her voice was soft, tentative, laced with concern. “What’s going on?”

Hana swallowed hard, feeling the tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She hadn’t meant to cry, but the alcohol made it impossible to keep everything locked inside. “I... I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, her voice cracking. “I can’t stop thinking about everything, about us, and about Emi, and I don’t know how to fix any of it.”

Yuki was silent for a moment. “Hana... where are you?”

“I’m… I’m walking,” Hana mumbled. “I don’t want to be alone, Yuki.”

The words came out before she could stop them, and they felt like a confession—a raw admission of how much she needed Yuki, even when she wasn’t sure how to navigate the mess they were in.

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you,” Yuki said, her voice firm but soft, like a promise.

Hana nodded, even though Yuki couldn’t see her. She didn’t know how long she stood there, swaying slightly on the street corner, before Yuki arrived. It felt like an eternity, and at the same time, only a few minutes.

When Yuki pulled up in her car, Hana’s heart gave a strange leap. She had never been more grateful to see her. Yuki got out, walking over quickly and wrapping an arm around Hana’s waist to steady her.

“Come on,” Yuki murmured, helping her into the passenger seat. “Let’s get you home.”

The drive was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Hana was too drunk to say much, and Yuki didn’t seem to mind the silence. She just focused on the road, her hands tight on the wheel, her profile softened by the streetlights.

When they arrived at Yuki’s apartment, Hana stumbled out of the car, leaning against Yuki for support. “I didn’t mean to… I just…” Hana trailed off, the words escaping her in a rush.

Yuki didn’t say anything right away. She just guided Hana inside, taking care of her like she always did—gently, with patience, as if she knew the weight of the world was pressing on Hana’s shoulders.

They reached the couch, and Yuki helped Hana sit down, sitting beside her. There was a moment of quiet, the weight of everything between them hanging in the air. Hana’s head was spinning, but her thoughts kept circling back to Yuki—how much she cared for her, how she didn’t want to screw things up, but how the fear of losing her seemed too much to handle.

“I’m sorry,” Hana whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I don’t want to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to fix everything.”

Yuki turned to her, her gaze soft but intense. “You don’t have to fix anything, Hana. You just have to be honest with me. That’s all I need.”

Hana looked into Yuki’s eyes, and for the first time that night, she felt something other than confusion. It was a spark of warmth, a glimmer of something real. She reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against Yuki’s hand.

Yuki didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her fingers interlace with Hana’s, holding her gently but firmly, like she was offering her a lifeline.

And then, without thinking, Hana leaned forward. The distance between them seemed to evaporate, and before either of them could second-guess it, Hana pressed her lips against Yuki’s. It was soft, hesitant at first, but then something inside Hana gave way, and the kiss deepened, urgent, desperate.

But as quickly as the kiss had begun, Hana felt her strength give out. The alcohol, the emotions, the exhaustion—it all hit her at once. She pulled back, her vision swimming, her head spinning.

“I’m sorry,” Hana whispered, pulling away. She could barely keep her eyes open, the world feeling fuzzy and distant.

Yuki’s hand gently cupped Hana’s face, guiding her head to rest against her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You don’t have to apologize. Just rest.”

Hana didn’t argue. She couldn’t. She was too far gone, the alcohol and emotions weighing too heavily on her. Within moments, her eyes fluttered closed, and she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, the soft rise and fall of Yuki’s chest the only thing that anchored her to the world.

Yuki sat there, holding Hana as she slept, her thumb lightly tracing circles on Hana’s hand. The kiss had been unexpected, and Yuki had felt a rush of warmth, of something more. But she knew this wasn’t the time to sort through the emotions that kiss had stirred up. Hana was vulnerable, and Yuki needed to be there for her—quietly, steadily, without pushing for answers.

As Hana’s breathing evened out in sleep, Yuki couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. They had both been through so much, both carried so many wounds, but in that moment, Yuki allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—they could heal together.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***