🧳✨ CHAPTER 13: THE POST-SLEEPOVER HEARTACHE

Subtitle: “Goodbye Is Too Big A Word For People Who Just Cuddled Under a Blanket”

Alternate Title: “If You Wanted Your Shirt Back, You Should’ve Thought Twice Before Letting Me Borrow It, Sucker.”

🌅 SCENE: The Morning After

The sun is out here DOING THE ABSOLUTE MOST.

She’s giving golden hour, she’s casting K-drama lens flares, she’s gently highlighting Ryoma’s white t-shirt hanging off Sakuno’s tiny frame like it’s the season finale of Soft Boy Gets Wrecked By Feelings.

Sakuno’s brushing her hair in front of the mirror. Joy clutched tight to her chest like a sparkly emotional support bear. Her cheeks are pink. Her soul is levitating.

And that t-shirt?

It is six sizes too big, falling off one shoulder, and an absolute menace to Ryoma’s sanity.

Cut to: Ryoma.
Leaning in the doorway. Arms crossed. Expression neutral but also 15% feral panic and 200% “I want her to never take that off.”

He’s not blinking. He’s in his “emotions are for the weak unless I’m watching her wear my clothes” era.

🛻 MEANWHILE, DOWNSTAIRS:

The Peanut Gallery Strikes Again™

Nanjiroh, shirtless as ever, slurping miso soup like it’s a drama livestream:

“My boy lost his shirt and his dignity. She’s too powerful. Respect.”

Rinko, dabbing her eyes with a sakura-printed tissue:

“That shirt’s hers now. That’s the law. Finders keepers, heartbreakers weep.”

Nanako, already typing a petition on her phone:

“If they don’t kiss before she gets in the car, I’m canceling love. Globally.”

🚪 THE FRONT DOOR GOODBYE

The car is waiting. The suitcase is packed. Joy is being clutched like a talisman.

Sakuno steps to the door, soft and sparkly and devastating.
She turns to Ryoma. The shirt is drowning her. She is Weaponized Softness™.
And Ryoma?
Oh, baby. He’s gutted. He’s standing there like she just punched his soul and kissed his forehead at the same time.

Sakuno (gentle, nervous, deadly cute):

“I’ll wash it before I give it back.”

Ryoma, instantly:

“Don’t.”
“It smells like me.”
“Keep it that way.”

Sakuno.exe has COMPLETELY. COLLAPSED.

She lets out a squeak. Not a scream. Not a sob. A squeak.
The sacred noise of a girl who just got emotionally obliterated by her crush in one line.
She bolts for the car like she’s smuggling stolen emotions and fabric softener across the border.

🚗 THE RIDE HOME

Sakuno is in the back seat, staring out the window like she’s the main character of a ballad called “The Girl Who Got Wrecked By A Boy And A Shirt.”

Joy is on her lap. The shirt is still hugging her body like a ghost of Ryoma’s feelings.

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And yes, she immediately starts writing.

“Dear Joy,
Ryoma told me to keep the shirt. I’m keeping it.
You may now consider it part of our long-distance relationship survival kit.”

P.S. It still smells like him.
P.P.S. I’m never washing it. Don’t judge me.

🏠 MEANWHILE, BACK AT ECHIZEN MANOR

Ryoma stands in the doorway. Watching the car disappear. He looks calm.
He is NOT calm.

Nanjiroh claps him on the back like he just won Wimbledon with pure restraint.

Nanjiroh:

“Proud of you, son. You didn’t beg her to stay once.”

Ryoma, deadpan, no hesitation:

“That’s what texting’s for.”

SOMEONE SEDATE HIM.
THIS BOY IS DOWN.
DOWN BAD.
DOWN TRAGIC.
DOWN TO WRITE LOVE POEMS IN JOY’S MARGINS.

And guess what? He does go back to his room. He does reread her entries (this boy literally copy text-to-speech pasted his favourite diary entries of Joy into his god damn notes app on his phone). He smiles at them like they’re handwritten proof that he’s lovable.

💌 BONUS SCENE: THAT NIGHT

Sakuno’s curled in bed. Joy in one hand. Shirt tucked around her like a human burrito of heartbreak and romantic delusion.

She nuzzles the collar. Closes her eyes. Whispers to the silence:

“Joy… if I die, tell him I said thank you for having good taste in laundry detergent.”

And then —

Ping.

Her phone lights up.

🟢 Echizen:

“Did Joy miss me today?”

🟣 Sakuno:

“Yes.
Her and I both did.”

Boom.
THE FEELS.
THE FLIRT.
THE LONG-DISTANCE SOFTNESS.

🎬 POST-CREDITS: THE SHIPPER TRIO LOSE IT AGAIN

Nanjiroh, pacing like a man possessed:

“I swear if he proposes via laundry basket I’m gonna cry.”

Nanako:

“Do you think they’ll name their first kid Joy?”

Rinko:

already designing the matching his-and-hers t-shirts
“I’m embroidering ‘Joy Approved’ onto their wedding veil.”