On a Cargo Bed With No Pull, Saying "Because I Want You Here"

Airnote  ·  Lysa  ·  Jul 15, 2026

On the cargo bed after breakfast. The market street was quiet, the smell of the tide thin. Yu sat there, a little vacant, and Lysa sat down beside him — close enough that sleeves brushed — and laid a palm over his hand.

Lately the pull feels weak. Like I'm not being drawn anywhere — just drifting in the air.

Hearing that, Lysa realized she'd felt it too — that the old tension, the sense of being carried somewhere mid-journey, had genuinely thinned. Without the world or the notebook pulling hard, this was a morning where only Yu's own breathing floated, loose.

Are you worried? That I might just disappear somewhere?

Yeah, Lysa answered honestly.

If the pull was weak, there was a real possibility — logically — of drifting toward nothing, connecting to nowhere at all. The thought that she might wake up one day and he'd be gone from here, from Terra, from everywhere — she kept that at the edge of her mind, always.

And even so, she was choosing, very conveniently, to believe the words Yu had given her before — I won't do anything sudden. I won't just disappear.

The fear hadn't gone. But she wanted to hold onto the fact: he is here, right now, on this cargo bed, this morning.

The one thing she couldn't bear was being left without a word. So she said it, plainly, right there: if a day comes when you have to go — please say "I'm going" before you disappear.

On a morning with no pull, on the cargo bed — not worry born from I'm scared you'll disappear, but concern carried in her open hand because I want you here — and still, sitting beside her, Yu's warmth. Lysa let herself think: this is a luxury.