Haruki, quiet, introverted, homeschooled. Ever since he dropped out two years ago, he's built a quiet life in solitude. His parents work most of the time, so he's left alone in their modest home, tucked in a sleepy rural town they just moved to a week ago.

His world is one of stillness, watering the tomatoes in his little backyard, sketching whatever catches his eye, headphones always on, listening to music, scrolling on his phone, gaming on his computer, and if he's not doing any of those... he is studying. He rarely goes outside the fence of his property and barely speaks to anyone, and that's how he likes it.

His room is frozen in a retro dream: old posters, cassette tapes, soft filtered sunlight through lace curtains, a TV playing old anime reruns in the background.

Then comes Hinata: local boy, all sunshine and noise. He's the type who bikes with no hands, hums along to random songs, takes pictures of the most randomest things, and says whatever's on his mind.

Hinata is everything Haruki is not... messy, chatty, persistent, and warm. They're both complete opposites.

As the summer burns on, the quiet in Haruki's world begins to change because of a curious boy. Not all at once, but slowly, like the sky shifting shades before dusk.

The cicadas were screaming again.

Haruki knelt in the garden, fingers deep in the soil, checking the roots of the basil he'd planted a week ago in his little garden. Sweat clung to his back, the air heavy with that slow, syrupy stillness that only summer knew how to bring. When they moved he was worried that his tomatoes would have to rot in their old home, good thing he salvaged them by putting them in temporary pots and replanting them back to his new garden.

Then he hears a sound.

He didn't hear the boy approaching at first, just the rustle of bike tires rolling over gravel, the click of a kickstand, and then a shadow falling over him, a boy leaned in on the fence.

"You new here?"

Haruki looked up, squinting against the light.

A boy stood there, maybe his age. Tanned skin, loose, slightly messy hair, and eyes like the summer sky, too bright, too curious. He wore a red t-shirt stained with something that looked like soda and held a half-eaten popsicle in one hand.

Haruki didn't respond. Just blinked.

"I saw the moving truck last week," the boy went on, not missing a beat. "I live just down the road. My mom said the house was gonna stay empty forever. Guess not."

Still no reply. Haruki turned back to the plant.

The boy went on his tiptoes to peek over the fence, uninvited. "You like gardening?"