Hot Chocolate and Cola

This suffocating air. Uncomfortable. Rotten. But it always kept me from the real world—the only atmosphere I could survive in.

It’s ugly.

I hated it then. Still do.

But I get it. I relate to it more than I’d like to admit.

My footsteps echo down the hallway. Quiet.

Lunchtime came and went… That was my chance.

And, of course, I blew it.

Of course. Classic Ichijo.

The clock ticks—5:35 PM.

Afterglow spills through the window, painting the walls with dying warmth.

The hallway’s empty.

But in the distance—I see someone.

Her hairclip—once catching the sun, now looks dull. Its light doesn’t shine.

Her hair falls like a curtain of sky—soft, long, and endless—but now, even the sunlight turns away.

The same keychains that once hung from her bag are now hidden away. Nowhere to be seen. Just like she became.

Ao.

Why do I even have to do this?

Her eyes are pointed outside, drifting away—drawn to the vast horizon of the orange sky.

I tried to approach her. Hot chocolate in hand.

“Hey.”

Each step I took, the air thickens. My fingers twitch. My throat tightens. No words come out, so I just raised my hand in a half-hearted wave.

She doesn’t respond.

“…Fancy seeing you here,” I said. Awkward smile and all. I even waved. Like an idiot. Like that would fix anything.

She turns to me.

“This is a school, Ichijo.” She smiled softly. Gentle. “Of course we’d be seeing each other here.”

I stand there, eyes widened. “So you’re talking to me now?” I mumbled.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing…”

“What are you doing here, standing all alone?” I asked.

“Never thought you’d be the type to care about other people.”

“I’m just thinking about things.”

“Ms. Ao Hoshikawa, who do you even think I am?”

“The world’s loneliest loner, I guess?”

“Indeed I am.” I looked at the same window Ao was staring from. “But even the world’s loneliest loner can care sometimes.”

“I see.” She turned her gaze back to the sky.

I look back at her.

I offer the hot chocolate. Brand name facing up.

“You can have this.”

“Ichijo.”

She glances at the can. Her smile softens. Then she lets out a chuckle.

“Haven’t I told you already that a cola would be better?”

She says it like a joke, but it’s not.

“What’s wrong with hot chocolate?”

“It’s bitter. Doesn’t taste right.”

“Hey. Don’t diss my girl Kokoa-chan.”

“At least she’s loved by some, even if hated by others.”

“What are you even talking about?”

I glanced down at the can.

“So what if people don’t like you?”

“It’s better to be bitter and real—at least someone out there will care.”

“Better that than being sweet and fake and getting drained by liars.”

I looked back at Ao.

“That’s why she can smile like she does. Because she knows she’s being loved just by being herself.”

“…Are you talking about me right now?” She glances at me. Calmly. She’s even smiling. Not angry. Just curious. Just wondering.

She took the hot chocolate in my hand. She opened the can and took a sip. Her head recoiled like a snake bit her, or something.

“Who knows?” I shrugged.

“I was just differentiating hot chocolate and cola.”

“…Is that so.” She let out a quiet sigh—one that sounded more like disappointed than surprised.

“That’s really like you, Ichijo.”

“What is?”

She looks back to the sky.

“Your words. The way you speak and act. It’s all screaming ‘Ichijo’.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

…

“I’m saying that you act however you want to.” She glanced at me—then raised her hands to point at me.

“And somehow, you also act like you have no care of the world.”

“You’re mean, bitter. You’re no sweet at all. Not even a sugar packet’s worth.”

She smiled.

“But you are honest.”

“And that’s what makes you ‘Ichijo’.”

“Of course, I am what and who I am.”

“It’s not like I need to pretend like someone else.”

Her hands twitched. Her smile dropped down. She fell silent—and the air thickened.

She didn’t even try to argue. Or maybe she couldn’t.

…

“Must be so nice.”

“What’s nice?”

“You, Ichijo.”

“How you can act freely without care in the world.”

She looked down. The orange light brushes against her face. “How you don’t need to pretend at all.”

“It’s not like my life’s much better, you know.”

“Trust me. My life’s much worse than whatever you’re trying to imagine.”

“Well, maybe it does.”

She smiled—but her hands still clenched on the can like she was suppressing something.

“But… I still do think it’s much better.”

…

“Why do you think it’s better?” I asked.

“Just because.”

“Much better than what I’m having now, at least.”

“You mean about Sayaka and your friends?”

“Part of it, but yeah.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“But yeah, I get it.”

“Not like I had any friends in the first place, I guess.”

…

She finally emptied her hot chocolate. We didn’t talk after that. We just… walked away, and we’re now walking together in silence. Like it was a natural thing in the world.

I took a glance at Ao. It seemed like she’s still thinking about something.

Then she stopped.

I looked forward.

I see the same playground—bathed in afterglow.

Rusted swing. Quiet wind. Nature’s taken over most of it—clinging to the rusted bars like it’s trying to hold on.

Just like the first time. But feels different. Quieter. Warmer.

“Seems like we always end up here, huh.”

She walks ahead a little. Stops in front of the swing.

“It’s not bad.”

I look at the rusted swing. The wind creaks it slightly. Like an old man’s groan.

“Still ugly, though.”

She sat down first. On the same seat she used to.

I followed and sat down as well. On the same seat I used to.

“…Remember when you gave me hot chocolate here?”

She smiles faintly.

“I thought you were weird.”

“Weird? Seriously?”

“I thought it’s what people would do.”

“It’s what friends do, at least.”

“So I thought that we were friends already.”

She gripped the chains of the swing tightly.

“But… back then, at the mall…”

“When your sister asked…”

“You said I was not your friend.”

“That… hurt me more than I thought it would.”

I looked down at my shoes.

The swing creaked under me.

I stopped.

“We’re really not friends, though”

“You never asked to be one. I didn’t either. So… I don’t know.”

She glanced at me. Never said anything.

Then—

“Seriously? That’s your reason?” She then looked at the sky.

She smiled, and let out a quiet chuckle.

“You are bad at this, huh.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I get it.”

“But you have to know better, Ichijo.”

...

“Is that so…”

I reached my hand out to her. Asking for a handshake. “Friends…” I mumbled.

She turned to me. “What did you say?”

“Let’s be friends…then.”

Silence. But not the type that I hate.

It’s all just awkward silence.

“Friend’s shake hands, right?” I extend my arm further, but I look away like an idiot. Really, to hell with this.

She glanced at me, then my hand.

“Your hands are shaking” She chuckled.

“But still…” She looked at me. And let out the world’s brightest smile.

“…Took you long enough.”

And then, just like that, she shook my hand. No fireworks. No dramatic music. No warmth. Just real… and that’s enough. Just for once.

“So… we’re friends now?” she asked.

“…Yeah.”