The last morning of the retreat was surprisingly quiet.
No shouting. No running. Just the rustling of trees and the distant clink of breakfast trays. The camp felt like it had taken a deep breath overnight—one final inhale before everything ended.
Yuuji sat with his group under the awning near the fire pit. Ren was to his left, tracing patterns into the dirt with a twig. Ian stood by the map board, pretending not to stare at them. The rest of Group One were lounging lazily, half-awake and barely holding onto the last bits of peace.
Then the lead counselor's voice cut across the field.
"For your final activity, each of you will write an anonymous letter to someone in your group. Something you never said. Something you probably never will. It could be a thank you, an apology, or even just something honest."
Collective groans echoed.
Rio dramatically dropped to the floor. "Can't we just go back to suffering on rope bridges like normal people?"
Kenji snorted. "Or another death hike. That was fun."
But Yuuji felt his stomach tighten. He didn't hate writing—but he hated this. Truth wrapped in mystery? That was dangerous.
Pens were passed around. Slips of paper. Silence fell like snow.
Ren tapped his pen against his knee, then scrawled something quickly and folded it before even glancing up. As if getting it out fast would keep it from becoming too real.
Yuuji just… stared at the blank page.
What could he even say?
He glanced at Ren.
What didn't he say?
---
Eventually, he wrote:
> "You make me furious. You say stupid things. You disappear. You laugh too loudly and throw off the whole room.
And yet—
When you're gone, I start waiting for noise.
If I'm wrong about you, then fine. But I think I see who you are underneath the fire and smoke. And I don't want to look away."
He folded the letter slowly. Like folding a wound shut.
---
All the letters were dropped into a cloth bag. Randomly shuffled. Randomly passed out.
"Don't try to guess who it's from," the counselor said with a smile. "But you probably will anyway."
Yuuji unfolded his.
> "You make me want to try. That's terrifying.
Because if I try and it still breaks, it's my fault.
But I still want to try. With you."
He froze.
It was messy handwriting—rushed, but familiar. His fingers gripped the edges of the letter harder than he meant to.
He didn't look up. Didn't dare. He just swallowed hard and let the words brand themselves into memory.
---
A few feet away, Ren read his note in silence. Then again. Then one more time. His smile was small. Strange. Sad.
Will leaned over. "Yours deep?"
Ren shrugged. "Feels like a sucker punch. But a nice one."
"What's it say?"
He hesitated—then read aloud:
> "You leave before anyone has the chance to hurt you.
But some of us were never going to hurt you.
We just wanted you to stay."
The group went quiet.
Rio blinked. "Well. Damn."
Ian, sitting across the circle, didn't look up from his own letter, but there was a tightness to his jaw. Kenji and Ethan exchanged a quick look.
Yuuji didn't breathe.
Ren folded the paper and tucked it into his jacket like it was fragile.
---
Later, as everyone packed for departure, Yuuji wandered to the back of the lodge where Ren was sitting alone beneath the eaves, picking pine needles off his socks.
Ren glanced up. "That was fast."
Yuuji raised an eyebrow. "What was?"
"You coming to find me. Thought you'd avoid me after that whole… emotions-in-disguise moment."
"I didn't say it was me."
"You didn't have to."
A beat of silence.
"I got a letter too," Yuuji said. "Kinda ruined my emotional defenses for the day."
Ren chuckled under his breath. "Same."
Yuuji sat beside him. Close, but not touching.
"What are we gonna do when we get back?" Ren asked quietly. "Act like this never happened?"
"I don't want to," Yuuji replied. Then, softer: "But I don't know what to do either."
Ren turned his face up toward the sky. "You know what scares me most?"
"What?"
"That someone actually saw me and didn't flinch."
Yuuji looked at him. Not just his messy hair or scraped knuckles—but the tiny frown lines between his brows, the nervous tapping of his thumb, the way he curled inward slightly like he was bracing for rejection.
"I didn't flinch," Yuuji whispered.
Ren smiled.
It wasn't a full one. But it was real.
---
The bus rumbled in the distance.
The spell of the woods would soon be broken. There'd be no campfire to hide behind. No anonymous letters. Just school, uniforms, people watching, and the complicated dance of pretending things meant less than they did.
Yuuji stood. "Ready?"
Ren stood too. "Not really."
But he followed anyway.