Before I knew it, everyone was already asleep.
I lifted Yuzu's small body and laid her down in her own room, then returned to mine.
The moment I dropped onto my bed, the exhaustion should've hit me—but it didn't.
I laid still, eyes wide open, gazing blankly at the ceiling above me.
Minutes passed.
Still no sleep.
I sighed, turning my head to one side.
Reading a book crossed my mind, but my attention span was shot. I'd probably skim the first sentence, space out, and give up before the second.
My eyes drifted around the dim room. I didn't need the light to know where everything was.
A desk near the window. That's where I'd sometimes nap during lazy off-days, catching soft breezes through the cracks. It reminded me of the rare times I dozed off in class.
Somewhere between that desk and my bed stood a narrow bookshelf. Top shelf was stacked with dusty manga and a few worn-out novels from junior high. I hadn't opened them in ages. They were just memories now—like pressed flowers in a forgotten notebook.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated on the desk. Its screen lit up, followed by a soft, cutesy ringtone I didn't remember assigning.
Caller ID: Maki.
It was Mika.
We exchanged numbers the moment we got our phones. I pointed out once that she saved her name under "Maki" by mistake. She laughed and never bothered fixing it.
I sat up and answered.
"Sora here."
"Oh, hello!" Mika chirped, her voice clear through the speaker.
"What's wrong? Calling this late?"
"Well, I wanted some help with my math homework. Do you know the answer to number three?"
"…There's homework?"
"Oh, come on, not you too!" she groaned. "This is like the fourth person I called. Do none of you pay attention in class anymore?"
"Probably not. Honestly, I was too busy watching our teacher get mad at Hana for calling x 'a confused letter.'"
"She actually said that?"
"Loudly. I thought Morikawa-sensei was gonna throw the marker."
Mika laughed.
"God, I miss being in the same class as you."
"I know. Feels like junior high was forever ago."
There was a soft silence between us. I could almost picture her lying on her stomach with a textbook open and untouched.
"You still keep that pink planner?" I asked.
"Yeah. It's got a frog sticker now. His name is Pegu."
"That's… not a frog name."
"Don't judge my frog, Sora."
We both giggled. I missed this—random chatter about nothing. Something simple to fill the silence.
After a few more exchanges, she sighed.
"Guess I'll keep trying to figure this out. Thanks for nothing."
"You're welcome."
She hung up, and the room felt quiet again.
I contemplated on answering my forgotten homeroom, but I was too lazy to do so. I'll just copy off Mika tomorrow if she ever gets it.
I lay back down and stared at my phone.
Scrolling past some old apps, mindlessly. Messaging apps, photo gallery, games I hadn't touched in months. Nothing clicked.
Then I noticed something new.
It must've auto-downloaded in that app bundle I tapped the other night—one of those "aesthetic chatroom experiences."
I almost deleted it earlier, but now… curiosity stopped me.
I tapped.
The screen faded into black, then eased into soft colors. Blues and purples. Gentle ambient sounds—like water dripping slowly in a cave, or maybe quiet rain. One prompt blinked at the center of the screen:
Choose a chatroom.
I scrolled.
Rain That Never Stops
3AM Conversations
Room of Echoes
Each one sounded like poetry trying not to sound lonely.
After a minute, I tapped Room of Echoes.
A soft chime played.
The screen loaded slowly, and I was in.
Just like that.
Messages were already there—people talking in real time.
Some lines were short, others poetic.
None of them felt forced.
[midnightsy]: what's your favorite kind of silence?
[mirror_mind]: the kind after a storm
[someone]: mmm. the kind where you're finally alone in your own room
[hushnotes]: mine's shared silence. like sitting next to someone who gets it
I stared at the chat.
So that's how it worked. No intros, no rules.
Just people dropping thoughts like pebbles in a pond. Letting them ripple.
My thumb hovered over the text box again.
I wasn't even sure what my favorite kind of silence was. But maybe it didn't matter.
I typed:
[ChatterSky]: the kind that makes you feel like the world's holding its breath
And hit send.
There was a pause.
Then:
[midnightsy]: oh
[mirror_mind]: that's a nice one
[someone]: poetic much?
[hushnotes]: not bad for a first message, ChatterSky
I felt my lips twitch into a smile.
[ChatterSky]: thanks, I guess. new here.
[midnightsy]: welcome to the echo chamber
[hushnotes]: we're mostly night owls and overthinkers
[someone]: and maybe one ghost. unconfirmed.
[mirror_mind]: don't scare the newbie
[ChatterSky]: I can handle ghosts
[someone]: 😏 ok badass
[hushnotes]: careful, Room of Echoes has a reputation
[ChatterSky]: what kind of reputation?
[midnightsy]: people come here when they can't sleep. or don't want to.
[mirror_mind]: or when they're too full of thoughts but too tired to talk out loud
That one hit home.
I didn't reply right away. Just read. Absorbed.
There was something addicting about it. Not in the usual, scroll-until-your-brain-numbs way. But in the warmth of knowing that behind these vague usernames, there were people out there who felt the same quiet itch in their chest.
It made me want to stay.
[ChatterSky]: I think I'm in the right place then
[hushnotes]: aren't we all?
The messages slowed after that. A few said goodnight. A couple stuck around.
I kept the chat open but set my phone down on the pillow beside me. For the first time in a while, the ceiling above didn't seem so blank. The room didn't feel so still.
I wasn't really alone. Not tonight.
I pulled the blanket over my shoulder and yawned.
Maybe I'd say more tomorrow.
Maybe I wouldn't.
But for now, just being here was enough.