Archive of Our Own

[Subaru]

University is stressful. There's not many other ways to put it. One second, you're buried beneath a mountain of assignments, the next you're blindsided by a test that appears as suddenly as a snowstorm in the summer. The constant pressure feels like a tight collar around my neck, never quite letting me breathe as freely as I want to.

Still, not everything has been bleak. Some things, surprisingly, have been going well. I have not been navigating this place entirely on my own. One of Tsumugi-kun’s friends had decided, almost by coincidence, to apply to the very same school I had been dreaming of attending.

His name was…?

Natsusawa-kun. Yes, Natsusawa-kun.

Honestly, we did not talk much at first. He sat only a few seats away according to the seating plan, yet an invisible barrier seemed to separate us. Speaking to someone like him felt awkward, almost like trying to strike up a conversation with a rock.

Most of the time he kept his head down, moving his pencil in slow, practiced strokes across the pages of his sketchbook. I could not fault him for that. Becoming an artist was no easy road, and I knew that better than most. It was reasonable for him to be so shut out.

In fact, I have had my own quiet obsession as well. Since last year, I had been tracking the works of a faceless artist who never showed signs of a name. Their pieces appeared online like lost puzzle pieces, each one more breathtaking than the last.

Every time I saw one of their drawings, my motivation surged. Their colours blended together, born to exist side by side, every shade balanced with such precision that the whole image felt alive. I would stare at the screen for hours on end, searching for even the smallest flaw, yet there was never anything to find.

I often caught myself wishing that I could meet them one day. Just once, to see the person behind those perfect artworks.

Back in reality, however, the unit our professor was teaching dragged on like an endless road. I loved learning about art, truly I did, but this particular subject felt dull in a way I could not quite explain.

Perhaps it was the way he lectured. His voice usually droned in a steady monotone. Or, perhaps it was the suffocating atmosphere of the classroom itself. Time seemed to crawl there, like each minute was being stretched to the brim.

Somehow, during all of this, Natsusawa-kun and I had begun to grow acquainted. It had taken every ounce of courage I possessed to approach him the first time, but when I finally did, he turned out to be far kinder and far less intimidating than I had imagined. Our conversations were hesitant at first, but grew more smooth over time.

I never had male friends before. The way boys had treated me in the past had left a bitter aftertaste I struggled to forget. Tsumugi-kun had been the first exception, encouraging me to reach out to others. Without him, I doubted I would have ever gathered the nerve to speak to Natsusawa-kun at all, or even attend a co-ed university.

“Are you busy over the weekend?” I asked one afternoon while we sat across from each other in the cafeteria. We had started eating lunch together recently in an effort to strengthen our friendship, and so far, things had been going better than I had hoped.

Natsusawa-kun looked up from his food, surprised like I had asked some absurd question. “N-No… not that I remember, at least. Why?”

I fidgeted with the edge of my sleeve, suddenly hyper-aware of how my voice sounded. “I was hoping we could meet up to work on the project Senju-sensei assigned us. I've been having some trouble with it lately. I hope that does not trouble you…”

“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed almost immediately when it turned out I wanted to work on an assignment with him. “Of course, I’m up for it. I don't think it interferes with my schedule.”

I felt cool water spill over my scalp, relieving me. “Then… What day works best for you?”

“Hm…?” He hummed softly, glancing down at his fingers like he was using them to map out the days of the week. “How does… Sunday sound to you?”

I quickly ran through my own timetable in my head, mentally flipping through the pages of my planner. Sunday was free and perfect.

“Sunday sounds good,” I replied, trying to keep the eagerness out of my voice.

“It is a deal then,” he said, offering a small, shy smile. “Could you drop by the school library on that day?”

“Of course," I quickly agreed. Once we finished up our lunches, we made our way back to our lectures, ready for whatever else the afternoon had prepared for us.

[Saku]

"Are you busy over the weekend?"

I nearly choked on my food. I had to cover my mouth, coughing lightly as I forced the bite down, all while trying (and failing) to look normal.

Hoshina-san.

Her name echoed in my mind far more often than it should. Lately, it felt like she had taken up permanent residence there. It was embarrassing; how easily my thoughts drifted to her, how her face surfaced without warning. Even now, sitting across from her in the crowded cafeteria, I could feel my heartbeat drumming against my chest.

Heat crept up my neck, pooling in my cheeks. I looked up then lowered my gaze, pretending to focus on my tray, as if it would calm the sudden storm inside me.

She tilted her head slightly, waiting for my answer. The casualness of her posture only made it worse.

"Not that I remember, at least." I answered, trying to sound casual.

Hoshina-san.

I remembered the first time I met her. She had been with Rintaro and Waguri-san back then. She was standing just a step behind him, half-listening to whatever he was saying. He introduced her offhandedly, mentioning she was a Kikyo student and that she was Waguri-san's best friend. That alone placed her somewhere distant in my mind, part of a separate world that only occasionally overlapped with mine.

We hardly spoke back then. A greeting here and a nod there, usually when she was with Waguri-san. Nothing meaningful. I hadn't cared enough to start a conversation, and she didn't seem interested either. She was too closed-off and too guarded.

We were just two people orbiting the same neighborhood without ever colliding.

At least, that's how it was supposed to stay.

She asked me to meet up over the weekend to work on the project Senju-sensei had assigned to us. Not that I was expecting anything else.

Still, the words lingered with me long after we parted ways. I went home that day trying to process the conversation in my head, replaying it in fragments. The way she spoke and the smile she wore. It all looped endlessly, like a scene I couldn't stop rewinding.

I opened my notebook and let my pencil move before I could overthink it.

At first, it was just idle doodling, loose line and unfinished shapes on paper. But soon, the lines started forming something more familiar. The curve of her eyes, the slope of her nose. The way her smile never fully showed, like she was holding something back.

I flipped the page and drew again. And again. And again.

I didn't realize how much time had passed until my wrist started to ache. The notebook that once held scattered sketches was now filled with her: different angles, different expressions, impressions all drawn from memory. None of them are perfect, but each one chasing the same feeling I couldn't quite capture.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I had become obsessed.

All my thoughts poured into that single notebook, ink and graphite replacing the words I didn't have the courage to say.

I had been keeping a secret since high school. A separate identity I never told anyone about. Online, I went by a name, Heliades. No personal details and photos that could trace back to me. Just my art, posted quietly into the void of the internet.

It started as a simple outlet. A place to dump emotions through art that I couldn't express out loud. But over time, people began noticing. My work gained traction, comments piling up under posts I never expected anyone to see.

I even started getting buyers. People who saw my pieces as something more than just sketches buried in anonymity.

Most of what I painted were landscapes and animals. Wide skies fading into dusk, empty fields bending under the wind, stray cats perched on rooftops, or birds mid-flight against muted horizons. They were easier… honest and uncomplicated.

Landscapes never questioned you. Animals move on instinct. You didn't have to guess what they were thinking. You only had to observe.

But people were different.

They smiled while hiding things. Spoke while meaning something else. Their expressions shifted in ways that felt impossible to pin down. One wrong line, and the entire feeling could disappear. Drawing them felt like trying to capture smoke with my hands.

That's why I avoided painting or sketching people whenever I could.

Although recently…

I found myself breaking that rule. Over and over again.

My pencil moved almost automatically, tracing familiar features from memory. I'd erase, redraw, adjust, never satisfied yet unable to stop. Each sketch felt like I was getting closer to something, though I didn't know what.

Closer to understanding her, maybe?

Hoshina-san

I let out a frustrated breath before closing the notebook and lying on my bed. I covered my eyes with my arms, trying to lull the thoughts away.

[Subaru]

I stepped into the assembly hall, my eyes scanning the sea of students in search of Natsusawa-kun. Finding him was rarely a difficult task, as wherever he went, admiration for his looks followed, clinging to him like perfume.

There was always a faint buzz of voices nearby. Exchanges of praises behind hands used to cover mouths. Girls, especially, seemed drawn to him as if he were something luminous. They were essentially moths attracted to a bright light.

It hadn't taken too long before I heard it. There was a ripple of excitement through the crowd that stood out from the usual chatter. I turned toward the sound instinctively, and there he was, exactly where I had expected. He leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling at ease. He acted as if the comments around him meant nothing.

We had never really spoken during our days in high school. Our words had existed on entirely different planes. I attended the notorious Kikyo Private Academy, known as a place of prestige and elegance, while he spent his days at Chidori Public High, a school full of students that could never compare to his pace.

The only times we'd ever exchange words was during our group outings carefully arranged by Kaoruko and Tsumugi-kun. Without them, I doubt our paths would have crossed at all.

Back then, Natsusawa-kun had carried an aura around him that made it difficult to approach him. There was something almost unsettling in his expression, making it difficult to tell what he was thinking. However, over the months, he grew more warm and confident, showing signs of emotion when it mattered.

So when I discovered that he had chosen to pursue his studies at T-University, it felt as though my heart had done a back-flip. That university had always been a goal throughout my life. It was a distant finish line that I'd been chasing during my high school years. My older sister had once attended her classes in these same halls, and ever since, I had followed in her footsteps, hoping they would lead me to that same level of success.

However, T-University was… a co-ed university. It made me feel uneasy in the past. My past experiences with boys and men had left scars that felt almost impossible to shake off. They were memories that I despised clinging to my skin.

Still, Tsumugi-kun and his friends had slowly changed my way of perception. They showed me that not every man carried cruelty in his words, or mockery in his eyes. Some of them were gentle and patient, and would look at me and my silver hair without seeing anything strange.

Knowing that Natsusawa-kun was here too brought me a sense of comfort. Even if we barely spoke back then, his presence was an anchor for me. It meant that I would never truly be alone, that there would be one familiar face I could approach.

I exhaled softly, pulling myself out of the spiral of my thoughts. They had a way of stretching on for eternity if I allowed them.

I shouldn't be standing here any longer. I took a step forward, then another, weaving through the crowd. My heartbeat quickened, though I couldn't quite tell why.

"Natsusawa-kun!"

[Saku]

I was sitting at the back of the large assembly hall when I first caught sight of her in the crowd. She wasn't particularly loud or attention-grabbing, aside from her silver hair, there was nothing that demanded a second look. If anything, she blended in with everyone else. And yet, my eyes found her anyway, as if they already knew where to look.

We had never really been acquainted back in high school. We studied at different schools, lived in overlapping but separate worlds. Sometimes I'd see her during inter-school events or passing through the same streets after dismissal, always surrounded by familiar faces that weren't mine. Close enough to recognize, too far to approach.

There was never a natural moment to bridge that distance.

Still, I knew one thing about her.

Rintaro once mentioned she had trouble with men. He didn't elaborate but just said it casually, like it wasn't his story to tell. I never pressed him for details; maybe I didn't want to pry. Or maybe I was afraid that knowing more would make me feel obligated to act differently around her.

So, I kept my distance.

I told myself it was out of consideration. If she was uncomfortable around guys, then approaching her without reason would only make things worse, right? At least, that's what convinced myself.

Which is why seeing her here surprised me.

A co-ed university. T-university, of all places. The campus was practically overflowing with people: crowded hallways, mixed groupings, casual conversations that were impossible to avoid. It didn't seem like the kind of environment someone with that kind of "trouble" would willingly choose.

I found myself wondering why.

I wanted to ask. The question sat at the edge of my thoughts, persistent and heavy. Why this school? Why put yourself in a place like this? Has something changed? Or had I misunderstood her entirely? But most importantly, why choose Fine Arts?

Even back then, I'd been curious about the story behind it. The lore of her discomfort that Rintaro never explained and the reason she chose art of all things. I had always pictured her in a different program. Law, maybe?

Yes… she looked more like a lawyer than an artist.

But curiosity alone wasn't enough to justify approaching her. So instead, I watched from afar, trying to piece together an answer on my own.

When I saw her in class, she seemed… fine. She spoke to guys when she had to. Group discussion, passing comments, polite exchanges. Nothing awkward, nothing visibly strained. But there was still a pattern. When the conversation ended, she naturally drifted back to the girls.

Her closest circle was always the same; familiar faces forming a soft barrier around her. It wasn't avoidance, but more like a preference. A boundary that only revealed itself if you were paying attention.

I think that was when I started trying to figure her out.

Without talking to her. Without doing anything. Just observing, collecting small details like they might eventually form a complete picture.

It felt harmless at the time.

But that was when it started.

At first, it was just harmless doodles in the margins of my notebook—idle sketches to pass the time. But over time, it became something more. I found myself drawing her whenever I saw her in class, tracing the curve of her jaw, the way her hair caught in the light, the subtle expressions that flitted across her face.

I could read her moods in the lines I drew. The slightest tightening of her lips when she was uncomfortable, a soft lift at the corners when something amused her. Slowly, I noticed something strange: her unease around guys was fading.

She seemed… lighter, freer.

And yet, somehow, that frustrated me. It confused me, too. Why should seeing her ease around guys feel like a loss? I didn't understand it but I couldn't stop noticing. But maybe because it wasn't me?

So, when she talked to me for the first time, I was completely off-guard.

"Hello," she said one afternoon after class as I was cleaning my desk. My hand jerked instinctively, and I quickly hid the notebook where I'd been sketching her, terrified she might catch a glimpse and think I was some kind of a creep.

Of course, it was creepy.

"Oh… hey," I said, trying to sound casual, my throat suddenly dry. "Do you need anything?"

"Oh. Oh!" she gasped, like she hadn't really planned on starting a conversation.

I couldn't even explain why, but my chest felt lighter just hearing her voice.

"I don't need anything," she said, fidgeting slightly. "I just… wanted to say hi."

My stomach flipped. She was talking to me, really talking to me. I forced a smile, trying to act nonchalant, but my heart was hammering like it had a rhythm of its own.

"Ah, okay. Hello." I managed, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Sorry for talking to you all of a sudden," she added as I started walking. I thought she might stop there, but she fell into step beside me, matching my pace down the hallway. My mind raced. Did she always do this? Or was it just… me?

"Oh… I forgot my bag," she exclaimed, darting back toward the classroom.

I froze. Should I wait for her? My instincts screamed yes, even though I had no idea what I was supposed to do. My heart was already pounding, each beat louder than the last, and yet a thrill ran through me that I couldn't hide.

When she returned, slightly out of breath, she smiled apologetically. "Sorry… so, want to have lunch with me?"

I blinked, dumbfounded. Lunch? With me? My chest tightened, a strange mix of disbelief and joy washing over me.

"Uh… yeah. Sure?" I said, my voice was almost too loud, and my heart skipped a beat with each syllable.

Before I could even ask why, her friend bumped and nudged her. "Hey, Subaru. Let's eat lunch."

I melted into the background, pretending to stay calm and walked away, thinking her invitation wouldn’t hold anymore now that her friend had asked her. But then I heard her voice again. “I can’t today! I’ll eat lunch with Natsusawa-kun.”

I turned sharply. “Natsusawa-kun?” I muttered under my breath, a grin already tugging at my lips.

“Huh? Where’d he go?” she asked, scanning the hallway. Then, spotting me, she broke into a small run. “Oh! Natsusawa-kun! Wait!”

My pulse raced, almost painfully. I couldn’t help but grin wider, chest hammering, stomach fluttering, and every nerve in me alive. She was actually running… towards me. And somehow, in that moment, everything else blurred out.

Why was my heart doing this? Why did a simple lunch invitation make me feel like the world had shifted?

I had no idea but I couldn’t stop smiling.

During that lunch, I learned more about her than I ever had from watching at a distance. She told me she chose T-University because she wanted to follow in her sister’s footsteps. But there was another reason, too. She admitted it quietly, almost like she was testing the words as she said them. She wanted to learn how to communicate with boys. To grow out of her fear, little by little.

“Is that why you asked me out for lunch?” I asked. My curiosity had been building since she first called out to me, and this felt like the only chance I’d get to understand her.

“One of the reasons, yes,” she said, nodding.

“The main reason being?” I pressed, trying to keep my tone light.

Hoshina-san smiled, the kind that looked half shy, half certain. “The main reason is… I’ve been inspired by your work in class recently. There’s something about it that feels oddly familiar.”

My fingers tightened slightly around my chopsticks. “Familiar… how?”

“Well,” she continued, glancing down at her food before looking back up at me, “to tell you the truth, I’ve been following an artist who inspired me for a long time. I really love their work. It’s actually the reason I wanted to become an artist in the first place.”

“Really…” My heart gave a small, uneven beat. I wanted to ask who because I wanted to know what kind of artist she admired. But something about it felt too personal, like stepping into territory I hadn’t earned yet.

“Anyway,” she said, smiling again, “I really love your work. It speaks to me in the same way his does. Quiet, but emotional. Like there’s always something you’re not saying, but you can feel it anyway.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t know what to say. No one had ever described my drawings like that before.

“And sometimes,” she added thoughtfully, “the way you draw expressions… it feels like you’re observing someone very carefully and trying to understand them.”

“I actually don’t like drawing people,” I said, shrugging lightly. “They’re hard to understand, so I am trying a lot. Whenever we get a portrait assignment, I don’t really put my heart into it.”

“Wow,” she breathed, eyes widening a little. “Even your reasons are the same. It’d be exciting if I found out you were the artist I fell in love with.”

She laughed after saying it, casual and unguarded, like she hadn’t realized the weight of her own words.

But my heart lurched violently in my chest.

Fell in love with.

The phrase echoed louder than it should have, drowning out the cafeteria noise. I knew she meant the artist (whoever they were) but hearing it like that, directed so close to me, made my pulse race uncontrollably.

I forced a small laugh, trying to steady myself. “That’d be… quite the coincidence.”

“Right?” she said, smiling, completely unaware of the storm she’d just stirred.

Meanwhile, I gripped my cup a little tighter, hoping she wouldn’t notice how warm my face had gotten. My heart was still pounding, each beat heavier than the last, and I couldn’t tell if it was from excitement… or from the strange, fragile hope her words had planted.

[Subaru]

Today, I am meeting Natsusawa-kun for our promised gathering at the library. It has only been a few days since we arranged it, yet the anticipation within me felt like it was about to burst like a balloon.

As I step inside, the familiar silence of the library coated around me reverently. The sound of scribbling and note-taking surrounded me, grounding me against the carpet. I wasted no time and began searching for him, my eyes weaving through the rows of scattered students.

He had sent me his location just minutes earlier, so finding him should have been a simple task. Besides, he always had a way of standing out, even if it was in a crowd.

Then, I spotted him. His long bangs fell loosely across his face, casting shadows over his lustrous eyes as he leaned into his palm. His other hand moved with precision, his mechanical pencil tracing across the page, guided with instinct refined over years of drawing.

"Natsusawa-kun!"

He lifted his head slightly, his gaze focusing onto me. “Oh, Hoshina-san. Hey.”

There's something different about him these days. Back then, he had always seemed distant from me, like he was standing behind a pane of glass that I couldn't crack. However, I never blamed him for it. We were strangers still learning how to exist around each other.

But now, that barrier feels thinner. I could finally reach my hand through it. It was like a new personality had taken over within him, pushing aside the colder side he once carried. He feels more open and human now, like light had finally been let into a pitch black room.

I took the seat beside him and began unpacking my materials, placing each item on the table. As I did, I caught him glimpsing in my direction, his eyes full of secrets impossible to decode.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, a hint of concern seeping into my voice.

He quickly raised a hand to dismiss me. “Not at all. I was just… amazed. By how tidy and organized you are.”

“Oh?” I respond, unsure whether to laugh or feel embarrassed. The rush of a reddish hue to my cheeks made that decision for me. “I just like to keep everything within reach. It helps me think more clearly.”

“I see,” he murmured, his tone the slightest bit awkward that I could notice it. He straightened his posture and turned back to his work, trying to regain the rhythm he had woven into.

“Well,” he said softly, “shall we begin?”

“Yeah. Let’s start.”

Forty minutes pass by in a heartbeat, like sand slipping through an hour glass. The blank pages that once sat before the two of us has begun to take shape and form. We've outlined our ideas, mapping them carefully, and have started to bring the first details of the canvas to life.

Then, Natsusawa-kun rose from his seat, stretching his arms above his head. The movement is languid, like he was shaking off the weight of concentration he had to lock into.

His gaze shifted toward me, watching as I continued refining the edges of my work, my pencil tracing cautiously around the margins of the paper.

“I’m going to head to the bathroom for a moment,” he says, already turning away. “Try not to get too far ahead without me.”

“Alright,” I reply, my focus returning to the page. Working beside him feels… reassuring.

There's this silent comfort within his presence, like sitting beneath a tree on a sunny day, where you're shielded from the harshness of the sun. Our ideas seem to come to life easier when together, especially with his feedback guiding me when I hesitate.

As I adjust my materials, I notice his sketchbook has slipped slightly beneath his canvas. Without thinking much of it, I reach over to move it back into place. I would hate for the fresh paint on his canvas to get ruined.

But then something caught my eye. It felt misplaced. It was a page, half exposed, filled with drawings that feel… familiar.

I paused, my fingers hovering as my eyes traced the lines. The style, the way the pencil strokes curve and press into the paper, the balance of each composition type. It felt unmistakable and unbelievable. My chest tensed as a thought began to accumulate in my head.

These drawings… They resemble the works I have been following for so long. The ones that inspire me to do better.

No. That can't be right. Natsusawa-kun could not possibly be that person.

But the resemblance… it was impossible for me to ignore it.

Before I could fully process it, something else caught me. Several pages, revealed and scattered like secrets never meant to be exposed, are sketches of… me.

They weren't rough or careless. Each sketch was detailed, deliberate, and captured the most minor details of my features with unsettling accuracy. The curve of my eyes, the fall of my hair, and even… the expressions I never realized I wore. It felt like looking into a mirror of graphite.

Then in one of the pages, I saw a signature. That's the very signature, identical to that one I've seen countless times online. The curve in its scribbles was unmistakable.

I froze. What?

I didn't know how to feel in the heat of the moment. Surprise, then confusion, then excitement, then confusion once more. These emotions cycle through me with little effort.

I gently closed the sketchbook, afraid it might reveal more things that I shouldn't know. The images and the signature, however, refused to leave my mind. They pressed against my thoughts, persistent to the point that it started to somewhat annoy me.

Why would he draw me like that?

It wasn't that I was upset or anything. If anything, there was a strange sense of gratitude in knowing I could be of use to him, even in this strange way. It still felt unlike him to do so. He's never seemed like the type to go out of his way for something so… personal.

Perhaps it has something to do with the false mask he always wears, the one that hides more about him than it should. However, that isn't in my place to investigate.

I exhale softly, trying to relax the swirl of ideas within me. Maybe there is a simple explanation. Maybe I am overthinking it.

Then, the crunch of footsteps appeared behind me. I lift my head, and there he is, returning as if nothing had changed at all.

Maybe… I should ask him myself.

[Saku]

I am in love with Hoshina-san.

It took me a while to realize it and longer still to admit it to myself. But after months of filling my notebooks with sketches of her, it should have been obvious. The curve of her smile, the way her brows knit together when she concentrated, the quiet ease in her expression when she laughed. I had memorized them all without meaning to.

Somewhere along the way, she stopped being just a subject I observed and became someone I waited for.

Every time she invited me to lunch, I noticed something new. Details that felt like I was slowly studying a subject I could never finish. The colors she gravitated toward without realizing it, the way she arranged her food like she was balancing a composition, how her expressions shifted subtly depending on the conversation.

I found myself memorizing the tilt of her head, the rhythm of her gestures, the pauses before she spoke.

They were small things, the kind you wouldn’t normally pay attention to. But to me, they felt like layers of a painting building over time. Each observation adding depth, warmth, and meaning. And with every new detail I captured, my feelings grew clearer, heavier, and harder to ignore.

Still, I wouldn’t confess.

The thought of asking her out felt like throwing a stone into darkness and hoping it wouldn’t shatter something fragile. She was getting better and slowly overcoming her fear of men. She spoke more comfortably and laughed more easily. I didn’t want to risk undoing that progress by placing my feelings in front of her. 

What if I became another reason for her to retreat?

So I decided to keep it to myself. At least until she was sure of herself. Until I was certain my presence wouldn’t weigh on her.

That was the plan.

So why was she looking at me like that?

I had excused myself to the bathroom earlier, telling her I needed a moment. The truth was, being alone with her for too long might make my composure slip. My heart wouldn't settle, and I was afraid that in one careless moment, something inside me would crack and spill the feelings I had so hard to hide. I needed distance, even briefly, just to steady myself.

But when I returned, something in the air had shifted. Her eyes lingered a little too long, as if she were trying to read something buried deep inside me. It made my chest tighten and the space between us felt thinner.

And her gaze hadn’t changed.

It was questioning like she was trying to reach the very deep part of me.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" I asked, attempting to sound casual and maybe even teasing.

But her eyes remained. She didn't answer, but she was serious. And I had no idea what had happened while I was gone.

I sat back down and picked up my pen, pretending to return to the piece I'd left unfinished. The paper in front of me blurred slightly as I tried to steady my hand. I forced my eyes to follow the lines I'd already sketched, adding light strokes here and there, acting as if nothing was wrong.

But she was still staring.

I could feel it without even looking. It pressed against my skin which made me hyper aware of every small movement. My heart thudded loudly in my chest, each beat making it harder to keep my hand steady.

Why is she still looking? Did I do something? Did I say something?

I swallowed and kept drawing but the lines started losing their confidence. My pen hovered more than it moved. My shoulders stiffened and the air between us felt heavier.

"Seriously, Hoshina-san…" I said at last, forcing a small chuckle that didn't quite sound like mine. "What's up? You've been staring at me the whole time."

My tone sounded normal, at least I hoped it did, but my grip on the pen had tightened, and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.

She didn't answer and the silence stretched.

My eyes drifted down, searching for something… anything to anchor myself. That was when I noticed the notebook. It wasn't there where I had left it.

I was sure I had tucked it slightly under my sketch pad before going to the bathroom, careful enough that she wouldn't see it. But now it sat closer to the edge of the table, shifted just enough to make my stomach twist. The cover was slightly open too.

My heart dropped. In an instant, everything clicked into place. I was too confident, believing I'd hidden it well enough.

When she noticed that I had realized it, she let out a breath, like she'd been holding it the entire time.

"Natsusawa-kun…" she began softly. "I'm sorry for being nosy. I think I opened something that was meant to be a secret."

My throat tightened. "Did you see… everything?"

I already knew the answer. Still, a small, desperate part of me hoped she hadn't.

"Yes," she said, her voice gentle but certain. "Every page. I'm sorry."

I bit my lip and lowered my head, my fingers curling slightly against the table. I didn't even have an excuse. The air in my lungs seemed to vanish all at once, leaving me hollow and lightheaded. My thoughts scattered in every direction, but they all circled back to the same fear: she was going to hate me for this.

It was creepy. I knew that. Filling pages with sketches of her without her knowing, memorizing expressions, drawing her over and over even though I avoided sketching people whenever I could. I shouldn't have done it in the first place. And knowing she had seen everything… I wondered if I should've kept my distance from the beginning.

Maybe I shouldn't have tried to approach her.

Maybe I shouldn't have kept saying yes every time she invited me.

Maybe I should've just stayed where I was, watching from afar, where it was harmless.

Now, all of that felt like a mistake unraveling at once.

“I’m sorry, Hoshina-san,” I said after a long moment. The words felt heavy, but they were the only ones I could manage. I stood up and began gathering my things, avoiding her eyes.

I continued quietly, “You don’t have to apologize. I only did it because… you caught my attention. I know it was inappropriate. I crossed a line.”

“W-what… wait. Where are you going?” she asked.

That was when I finally looked at her.

She didn’t seem angry like I expected. Instead, she looked surprised, almost alarmed, as if she hadn’t anticipated my reaction at all. The confusion only made me more nervous.

“I never told you to leave,” she said softly. “Please stay, Natsusawa-kun.”

I hesitated, then slowly sat back down. My hands rested awkwardly on the table, unsure of what to do. “I don’t even know what to explain to you…”

She gave me a small, reassuring smile. “I was trying to figure something out. Sorry if it seemed like I was upset.”

“I mean… you’re supposed to be.” I muttered.

“I get that, but…” She took a breath, steadying herself. “Do you remember the first lunch we had together?”

Why would I forget?

“Yes.”

“Do you remember me telling you that I was inspired by an artist? That’s why I pursued art?”

I nodded. I remembered clearly how she spoke about them with admiration, how I had wondered who they were but stopped myself from asking.

“Can I borrow your notebook?” she asked, extending her hands toward it.

“Huh?”

She chuckled softly and leaned forward, reaching for it before I could respond. My thoughts stumbled over themselves. I didn’t understand what was happening. 

Just moments ago, I had convinced myself that everything between us would fall apart after today. That the lunches, the conversations, and the familiarity would disappear by tomorrow. But that didn’t seem to be the direction this was going.

She opened the notebook carefully. My heart thudded louder with every page she flipped, the sound echoing in my ears as her eyes scanned the sketches, searching for something specific. 

Then she paused. A small smile tugged at her lips.

She turned the notebook toward me.

It was an unfinished sketch of her, loose lines framing her profile. I felt embarrassed but her finger pointed toward the margin near the bottom of the page.

“I recognized this signature,” she said quietly. “I’ve been following them for so long.”

Something inside me clicked.

That was my official signature. The one I used when I posted my works anonymously. I must have signed that page without thinking. Just a habit and something automatic. And now she had seen it.

“It might be nosy… or presumptuous of me to ask,” she continued as she sat back down, still holding the notebook between us. “I know they don’t reveal themselves to anyone. But I just want to confirm, Natsusawa-kun…”

I inhaled slowly. My chest felt tight, like the air had thickened. My fingers curled slightly against the table, and I could feel my pulse racing.

She looked at me, eyes steady but gentle.

“Are you… Heliades?”

I froze, trying to process what she had just asked.

Am I Heliades?

I’d been using that name since high school, since the first time I uploaded my work anonymously, unsure if anyone would even look at it. Then I remembered our first lunch together: her voice, the quiet admiration in her eyes, the way she said she had fallen in love with that artist’s work… how that artist inspired her to pursue art.

That was me.

If I answered, everything would change. If I denied it, I’d be lying to her directly. Either way, there was no returning to before.

I exhaled slowly, trying to steady the sudden rush of thoughts. “You know…” I began, my voice quieter than I intended. “Art has been my passion for as long as I can remember. I don’t even know when I started… maybe when I was five or six.”

She didn’t interrupt. She leaned forward slightly, her hands folded together on the table, eyes fixed on me with a kind of careful attention that made it impossible to look away. There was no impatience in her expression as if she was afraid of missing even a single word.

“In middle school… I was depressed for a while,” I continued. “I was often misunderstood by people around me. It felt like whatever I tried to say never came out the right way.”

I paused, glancing down briefly before meeting her gaze again.

“I carried that into high school. And eventually… I didn’t know how to handle it anymore. Then one day, I found my old sketchbook and decided to try drawing again. At first, every page was a portrait. I thought if I studied people enough, maybe I’d finally understand them.”

I let out a small breath. “But people kept disappointing me. Or maybe I kept failing to understand them. So I tried something else. Landscapes. Empty scenes. Quiet places. And somehow… I felt more alive drawing those. Like I could finally breathe.”

“I started posting them online just to see how others would react. I didn’t expect anything from it, but somehow… it gained traction. People started recognizing the name. Following it and it helped me in more ways than I can explain. Art helped me through that phase.”

I swallowed. My chest felt lighter and heavier at the same time.

“So, I’ll never deny that, Hoshina-san…” I said softly. “I am Heliades.”

She didn’t say anything. Her eyes widened slightly, but she remained still, letting me continue.

“But recently, someone caught my attention,” I said, my voice growing steadier. “She was guarded, reserved, and hard to read. For some reason, I wanted to understand her.”

A faint smile formed on my lips. I could feel my heartbeat again, loud but no longer something I wanted to suppress. If I had come this far, there was no point in holding back anymore.

“That curiosity led me to sketch a portrait again… for the first time in years.”

I looked at her directly.

“That someone was you, Hoshina-san.”

Her expression softened, and I felt something settle inside me like a decision finally taking shape.

“So I was surprised when you asked me out for lunch. Every time we talked, I learned something new about you. At first, my curiosity was satisfied… but then it wasn’t anymore. It turned into something else. Something heavier.”

“The more my feelings grew, the more I kept sketching you. Without realizing it, that notebook filled up… with you.”

I tightened my grip slightly against the edge of the table. “I’m sorry. I never intended to tell you. Or reveal anything.”

The words hung between us. My heart pounded hard enough that I was sure she could hear it. But this time, I didn’t look away.

“But I like you, Hoshina-san…” I said, biting my lip as the words felt too small and insufficient.

I shook my head slightly. “No… that’s not right.”

I drew in a breath, the last bit of hesitation dissolving.

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

[Subaru]

“I love you. I’m in love with you.”

For a moment, my heart forgot how to behave. It slammed against my ribs like a unbehaved bird trapped in a cage, desperate to escape. Somehow, against all odds, I managed to compose myself, gathering the scattered pieces of my thoughts before they could completely fall apart.

I had suspected this to be the truth the moment I saw those drawings. Strangely, it didn't frighten me at all. If anything, it stirred something blazing within my chest. The realization of him being the artist I've been following all these years only deepened my admiration.

To think that someone as talented as Natsusawa-kun, or rather, Heliades, had turned his attention toward portrait work again… and that I, Hoshina Subaru, somehow had become part of that inspiration. It was a lot.

“Natsusawa-kun…” I whispered, my gaze fixed stubbornly on the carpet beneath us. Maybe its dull patterns had suddenly become a subject worth studying.

“Yeah…” he replied, his voice tinged with a faint tang of awkwardness. I can almost picture it without looking at him. The way his hand would drift to the back of his neck, as his fingers brushed and played with the hair strands sitting against his skin. It was a signature gesture that would appear whenever he was at a loss of words.

The truth is, my feelings for him have not been void. Over these past months, they have bloomed quietly, hidden in the shadows of my brain. They were unnoticed until it had already been too late to turn back. I felt far closer to him now, drawn in by something magnetic I couldn't easily name. Somewhere along the way, those feelings were impossible to quell.

As much as it pained to admit, there were moments, these small and usually irrelevant ones, where jealousy would take over me uninvited. When other girls spoke to him, or when they laughed too easily at something he said, or when he handed them a pen or leaned in just a little too close. Each time, it would sting my heart aggressively, before I forced that sensation away.

I never allowed it to show. I had no right to feel that way. Not when we were nothing more than friends.

However, here he was, sitting in front of me confessing his love.

“Over these past months… I've been changing,” I began, my voice lower than I had intended. It was like life had been sucked out of me. “Before, I thought it would be impossible for me to ever build a relationship. To love a man.”

Those words were heavy, like the weight of several stones sat on my tongue. I drew in a slow breath, only to feel it catch midway, a lump forming stubbornly in my throat. I swallowed it down, and pressed on.

“Natsusawa-kun, you changed that for me. You showed me that I could feel safe around someone like you. That not everyone would look at me and see something to mock or tear apart.”

My fingers drifted absentmindedly across the wooden table, tracing its carved edges, in search of something to keep my mind at ease.

“Because of you, I found the courage to remain here, and continue my studies. To stand in a place like this without feeling like I don't belong in that said place."

My heart drummed louder now, each thud echoing infinitely in my ears. My next words gathered at a snail's pace, forming particle by particle.

“I love you too, Natsusawa-kun.” The confession I've been suppressing slipped out. “I don't really know how else to say it. I feel the same way you feel. You are… someone I treasure deeply. And I want you to remain by my side, for as long as you are willing.”

When my voice faded, the space between us turned freezing cold. Silence settled in, and it felt as though even the air had paused for us, waiting for our next moves. I found myself focusing on anything but him, including the lights above us, the artwork I had been working on, and even my own shoes.

Then, I glanced up just in time to see him lift his head, brushing aside the curtain of bangs that usually shielded his face from everything.

And for the first time, I saw his eyes clearly. They were… beautiful.

There were no other words that fit the description. His eyes caught the light in a way that felt unfair. It almost felt like a waste that he kept them concealed all the time, though perhaps it was a blessing in disguise as well. If he did not, I was certain even more people would be drawn to him.

“Wow,” he uttered, his voice topped with a sense of disbelief. “And here I was, worrying that you might reject me. I am… relieved.”

“Relieved… for what?” I ask, my voice lowering an octave.

“That you feel the same way, Hoshina-san. You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

A small smile found its way onto my lips. “Well… it would have been impossible for me to reject Heliades.”

The moment his online username left my mouth, he fixed onto me with a sharp look, his eyes pressing together suspiciously.

“Not that that was the reason I fell for you,” I quickly added, a faint blush rising to my cheeks. “Though… it still feels unreal, knowing it's you.”

“Yeah,” he replied, chuckling in one of the few times I've seen him do so. “I never thought anyone would figure it out. I should commend you for that, Hoshina-san.”

I lift my hand and give myself a small, playful pat on the shoulder. Turning back toward our project, I tried to steady the uncontrollable loveliness in my heart.

“Well then,” I say, letting out a soft breath to ease the tension, “shall we continue where we left off?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. Without thought, I came closer to him. Our shoulders nearly brushed, the space between us shrinking until it was almost non-existent. His presence made a word for itself. That he was here.

That'd he would always be here.

We begin discussing the finer details of the piece again, passing ideas like exchanging presents. Everything else could wait. Sorting out our newfound relationship was a problem for the future.

For now, I just want to finish this damned project that's been making my back ache for ages.

[Saku]

My phone pinged softly beside me. I glanced at the screen and saw Subaru’s name lighting up my notifications.

Subaru: I’m at the train station. I’ll see you soon.

A small smile formed on my lips. I typed back, Okay. Take care. Love you.

The reply came almost instantly with a sticker of a bunny holding a heart, cheeks flushed pink. I let out a quiet laugh. Recently, she’d been sending a lot of those. Yuzuhara-san had apparently introduced her to stickers, and ever since, Subaru had been enthusiastically using them for everything.

A second message followed.

Subaru: Love you too.

My chest warmed.

Subaru and I had been together for a year now, and somehow, the days still felt new. We learned more about each other through more lunches, shared walks, small disagreements, and long conversations that stretched late into the night. And alongside that, there was an artwork I had been working on for months, adding to it little by little.

I put my phone down and turned my attention back to my laptop. The blank title field blinked at me as I stared at the finished piece on screen.

It was an evening landscape. Deep blues fading into muted violets, the silhouettes of trees stretching long across the ground. The moon hung high at the center, its glow soft but luminous, casting a gentle light over the scene.

In the middle stood a girl, her back turned. Her hands were hidden behind her, holding a single white rose. Her head tilted slightly toward the moon, silver hair flowing quietly with the night wind, catching faint traces of light like threads of starlight. She looked small against the vast sky, yet she was the very heart of the painting.

I smiled, fingers hovering over the keyboard, then began to type.

The Girl of Silver and Starlight

An artwork dedicated to her.
By Heliades.

I pressed post, watched the upload complete, and gently closed my laptop.