Chapter Text
Public Astral High School.
In a certain world on a certain planet, that high school exists.
General course.
Co-educational.
Three-year system.
The academic year runs from April to March.
The uniform is a grey blazer with no particularly notable features.
The school spirit is free and vigorous.
There are many unique students.
It is such an ordinary high school.
May.
The Astral High School Student Council was about to reach a turning point.
"With that, I conclude today's regular meeting. ...Everyone, thank you for everything up until now."
"Hey now, it ain't fair for you to be the only one actin' like a senior. ...Y'all, I appreciate the help."
Student Council President, Argenti. Student Council Vice President, Boothill.
The two of them ran for the student council election in June of their first year, shortly after entering the school—though the circumstances leading to their candidacies differed—and assumed their current positions. They also gained a vote of confidence in the election during their second year, and have held these posts for a full two years.
Whether in their election speeches or their daily work, the charisma and dynamism of these two were overwhelming. Even a teacher who had served as the student council advisor for many years laughed, saying, "This generation might be talked about for years to come."
Now, they were already third-years.
Since they cannot run in the next student council election in June, it will effectively be a generational shift.
The current student council includes two treasurers and two secretaries besides the two of them, all of whom are second-years.
Today, during the final regular meeting, the student council room was filled with a somewhat sentimental atmosphere, a mix of regret over parting and anxiety about losing the two of them.
"Don't y'all go gettin' all mushy on me... We still got over half a year 'til graduation, after all..."
Unable to bear it, Boothill spoke up.
Since May began, he has been wearing a short-sleeved T-shirt instead of the uniform shirt, claiming it is too hot. Although it deviates from the uniform, the school rules are not explicitly defined, so no one can restrain him.
Since his first year, he had never properly worn the blazer or the tie. He wears his slacks low on his hips, and the heels of his loafers are tattered because he is always stepping on them. He also dislikes carrying a bag, leaving everything necessary for classes at school.
Even so, it was strange that when he did it, it did not look slovenly. His grades remained at a high standard, centered on the sciences and mathematics. Yet GPA was low because he did not attend classes.
On the other hand, Argenti, sitting next to him, was a student who should be called the model for everything.
Since his first year, his grades have always been within the top ten.
He has never been absent once, approaches everything with sincerity, and wears his uniform perfectly. He lends a hand to those in trouble, worked on improving school rules as the Student Council President, and energized events by building networks with other schools.
On top of that, he is strikingly handsome, has a calm demeanor, and there were even rumors that he was strong in a fight.
The phrase "He was the picture of perfection." seemed to exist for him.
The two appeared to be exact opposites, but in reality, their compatibility was good because their values of cherishing duty and humanity aligned. The reputation of them being the strongest duo was whispered not only within the school but also in other schools.
That is precisely why their retirement from the student council weighed heavily on the shoulders of their juniors. Besides the concern of whether they could properly succeed them, they were simply lonely.
"That is right. We will provide as much backup as possible for the next student council until graduation."
Argenti said this to mediate the situation, and the final regular meeting in which the two participated came to an end.
"President, excuse me, do you have a moment?"
As the juniors left one by one, Maria, one of the secretaries, called out to Argenti to stop him.
"Yes."
"Um, could we go to the classroom next door?"
"Certainly."
Maria's cheeks were flushed.
It was Boothill, watching the exchange, who grasped the gist of the business. He stopped mid-motion as he was about to stand up to go home and sat back down in his chair. Argenti's backpack remained on the seat next to him.
After a while, a tense voice began to be heard from the classroom next door.
In the quiet school building after school, even whispers that would normally be inaudible during the day echoed through.
"Um... I have liked you for a long time, President. ...Working hard together all this time... it made me like you even more. ...Could you... find it in yourself to like me back?"
He's a popular man, to be sure, Boothill thought.
Gender and school year did not matter when it came to liking Argenti. Boothill had witnessed this scene all over the school, and once a student even started a confession without hesitation while Boothill was right there talking to him.
Just from what Boothill knew, it was getting too tedious to count. In reality, he must have been confessed to by many more people.
And he would invariably answer like this.
"I offer unreserved praise for that courage of yours. However, it seems I cannot reciprocate."
A rejection phrase he had memorized.
Boothill found himself mumbling it under his breath in sync with the voice.
The fact that one would be rejected without hesitation after confessing to Argenti was supposedly famous, yet every student who confessed harbored the expectation that
maybe I will be the one he accepts.
Argenti possessed that kind of charm unconsciously.
Especially in this case, the disappointment would likely be immense, Boothill thought meddlesomely. Her devotion as a secretary was clear even from the sidelines. It could be said she was the junior closest to Argenti.
"...I am sorry. Please do not hate me..."
"I do not hate you."
Ah, you're makin' her cry, ain't ya.
Boothill frowned slightly and crossed his legs on top of the desk. He imagined that, right about now, Argenti was likely wiping away her tears with his own handkerchief.
"Thank you... very much. ...Take care."
The door to the next classroom opened, and Maria came out first. Boothill heard the sound of her passing by the student council room with quick steps.
A little later, Argenti returned to the student council room.
To Argenti, who looked somewhat dejected, Boothill grabbed the bag from the neighboring seat and threw it at him. It was sudden, but Argenti caught it with both arms.
"Let's get on home, too."
When Boothill said this while standing up from his seat, Argenti replied, "Yes."
An evening where large drops of rain drip down from a cloudy sky.
Boothill usually does not carry an umbrella, but since it had been this way since morning, he has a plastic umbrella he bought at the convenience store in front of the station. Argenti opened a deep crimson umbrella.
"It seems my loafers are going to be ruined."
Every time his feet were caught by the irregularities in the asphalt, Argenti muttered, hating the rain soaking into his shoes, but Boothill brushed it off with a shrug. Due to his rough way of wearing them, Boothill's loafers have long since been ruined.
"Speakin' of which, the regular meetin's was the last one, but there's still work to do, ain't there?"
Boothill asks while walking side by side on the road to the station.
"Yes. The paperwork has not been cleared yet."
At the concise reply, Boothill stealthily stole a glance at Argenti's expression from under his umbrella. That dignified profile looks as if he is no longer dwelling on the earlier confession. Though, no matter how he tries, he cannot know his inner thoughts.
There was a reason why Boothill had spoken up. There was something he wanted to confirm regarding the remaining student council work.
Unlike Boothill, who is in no other clubs and only has student council work, Argenti concurrently serves as the president of the art club. Surely, there must be work over there as well.
"If y'all got handover stuff for your club too, I'm fixin' to take care of the stuff over here myself."
He had thought it was a thoughtful proposal ever since he came up with it last night.
However, Argenti immediately shook his head from side to side.
"No, is this not the student council the two of us built together? I cannot dump everything on you at the very end."
The two of us?
It was the first time Boothill had heard Argenti say something like that.
Boothill himself knew that he and Argenti were seen as a duo by those around them, but he considered the actual contribution ratio to be eighty percent for Argenti and twenty percent for himself.
He falls short of Argenti in both charisma and dynamism. Boothill's self-assessment is that his only contribution is giving shape to Argenti's will.
That is precisely why he thought he would take on at least the remaining work, even if it was the administrative work he hated so much.
"Is that so. ...Then what're we gonna do? There ain't many days left 'til the next election..."
"Today is Thursday, so... how about after school next Monday?"
"Works for me."
The conversation breaks off.
As the station draws near and the foot traffic increases, making it difficult to walk side by side, Boothill moved behind Argenti.
Swaying hair, a straight back, a constant stride.
He has seen it all.
And yet.
"Is this not the student council the two of us built together?"
This is bad.
Argenti stops under the eaves of the station building and folds his umbrella.
With a delay, Boothill closed his umbrella too.
Waiting for that, Argenti smiles.
That voice from earlier won't leave my ears.
"Until then, then."
"Yeah, see ya later."
Turning away, Argenti hung his umbrella on his arm with his usual calm movements, took out his pass case from his bag pocket, and went through the ticket gate a step ahead. With a delay, Boothill also took out his pass from his pocket and held it over the gate.
Everything is about to end, and yet, at this late stage.
Boothill went up to platform 2, the opposite side of the stairs to platform 1 where Argenti had gone up. Standing at the boarding position and looking at the opposite platform, Argenti was waiting for the train directly in front of him.
"The train for track 1 is arriving. Please stand behind the yellow line—"
Before the announcement ends, a roar echoes and a mass of iron robs his field of vision.
Just before that.
The green eyes that had been looking elsewhere suddenly turned around, and their eyes met.
There was no time to look away.
Argenti smiled, and then, gave a small wave.
I never wanted to notice.
For three years, they had never been in the same class once.
He had never even gone to see the art club's exhibition, and they had never properly talked about hobbies or likes and dislikes.
Thinking that meeting and talking at school was enough, they didn't even exchange contact information.
Once the title of student council officer is gone, there is nothing connecting them.
I was supposed to be the only one who was different from the others.
The train has left, leaving the opposite platform empty.
Listening to the sound of rain hitting the tracks, Boothill gripped the handle of his umbrella tightly and looked down.
I was supposed to be different, and yet.
The sunny weekend took a turn, and Monday was raining again.
During the third-period history class, Argenti quietly looked down at the courtyard from the window.
When he drew this seat—the very back by the window—in the lottery back in April, Argenti thought he might have used up a lifetime's worth of luck. It was a prime seat in a third-floor classroom with a clear view of the courtyard.
Since his first year, whenever he got a window seat, he often looked down at the courtyard.
That was because Boothill frequently went out there to ditch class.
Since it is raining today, he will be over there.
Argenti's gaze turned toward the gazebo in the courtyard.
Boothill, sitting on a bench, was taking a nap with his legs kicked up on the table.
He was wearing a blackish T-shirt today as well.
When the two of them were first-years, the school rules regarding attire were much stricter. However, the one who overturned the established theory that poor adherence to dress codes equaled poor grades or character was Boothill himself. Conversely, there were plenty of students who dressed according to the rules but had poor behavior.
Because of that, when Argenti changed several school rules, he also significantly altered the regulations regarding attire. The fact that the faculty accepted this without issue was largely due to Boothill's influence.
I am certain there is no school rule saying it is alright to skip class, Argenti thought, but as he never once cautioned him while watching like this, he was undoubtedly an accomplice.
In their first year, during the first student council election.
Argenti, who had been prominent since his junior high days, received an enthusiastic request from the student council president at the time as soon as he entered the school: "I definitely want you to be the next student council president." That was the circumstance behind Argenti's candidacy.
On the day of the election, Boothill, who spoke first as a candidate for vice president, said this:
"Don't know who's gonna be president, but if I'm picked for vice president, I'll do enough work to match them votes."
Boothill had left the podium after saying only that despite having a three-minute time limit, but Argenti, drawn to his unconventionality and firm attitude, wanted to try working with him.
Since both the president and vice president positions were votes of confidence, they wouldn't fail unless something extraordinary happened. Argenti was inwardly anxious about how Boothill's aloof speech would be received, but somehow both of them gained confidence.
Classes, club activities, and casual conversations with classmates are all enjoyable.
Argenti took pride in the fact that he was savoring his high school life.
But more than anything, being with Boothill was fun.
Later, Argenti once asked Boothill, "Why did you run for vice president?"
"The math teacher set me up," Boothill replied.
"He took a likin' to me for some reason, trapped me with my own words, and went and wrote my name on the candidate list without askin'. Ain't that a low blow?"
Argenti felt a little lonely, thinking that student council work must be nothing more than a troublesome nuisance to Boothill.
Partly because of that, he had wanted to invite him to hang out, but he remained unable to do so. He had never heard a story of the lone wolf Boothill hanging out with anyone.
During the period from summer to autumn when events like the sports festival and culture festival continued, there were student council tasks almost every day, and sometimes even on holidays, providing many opportunities to see each other, so there was also the fact that he had been satisfied with that.
But, will today be the last of that, too?
A stray cat arrived at the gazebo and ended up waking Boothill. Watching him deal with it with a grumpy look, Argenti let a smile escape to an extent that those around him wouldn't notice.
He was looking forward to the promised time after school.
Looking up at the clock after taking his eyes off Boothill, the bell for the end of class rang exactly then.
Argenti's next subject for his class was chemistry.
Since the experiment was to be conducted in the chemistry lab, he stood up to move classrooms. It was just as he stepped out the door, cradling his textbook, notebook, and pen case against his chest.
"Hey, do you know where Boothill went?"
In the hallway in front of the next classroom—Boothill's class—a black-haired female student was pressing a brown-haired male student.
They were faces Argenti knew as well. Both were students in the same class as Boothill. The female student was Eri, and the male student was Kei.
Kei made a troubled sound as he took a step back.
"I told you, I don't know. What, you gonna confess to him?"
"Huh!? No! The teacher told me to go call him!"
"Alright, alright, I'll let you tell it that way... Ah,"
Kei's gaze, which had been searching for a timing to escape, caught Argenti. Argenti reflexively looked away, but it was already too late. As Kei walked over, Eri followed behind as if she had caught on.
"Argenti, hey, you don't happen to know where Boothill is ditching, do you? This one seems to be having a hard time, and I wanted to help her out."
"No, well..."
The scene of the courtyard flickered in Argenti's mind.
However, he did not want to say.
Boothill would surely find out that he had been secretly watching him, and more than anything, he did not want to take away Boothill's place of refuge.
As Argenti hesitated, Eri spoke up this time.
"Then, could you message him? Just say that the homeroom teacher is waiting in the career counseling room."
"Career... counseling?"
Argenti blinked at the unexpected words.
If that was the case—he thought, pulling out his smartphone before realizing.
He did not know the contact info.
Argenti put the smartphone back in his pocket and readjusted the tools for his lesson.
"I am sorry, I do not know his contact information. ...I could call out to him via the school social network, however..."
"Wait, what?"
Both Eri and Kei were taken aback and looked at each other.
The most famous duo in the school was saying they did not know each other's contact information.
The same possibility occurred to both of them at once.
Argenti actually knows the contact info, but he stopped himself from telling us because we did something wrong.
Eri opened her mouth as if to smooth things over in a hurry.
"S-Sorry, Argenti, when you're busy."
"My bad! Eri, I'll help you look for him. You're in a rush, right?"
"Eh, no, I'll just say I couldn't find him, so it's fine..."
"Anyway, let's—"
Kei, who was about to say let's go, suddenly raised his head and recognized a figure with a two-tone head behind Argenti. He raised one hand as if he had been saved. He was so happy that a quip slipped out.
"Boothill! We are looking for you. Wants to confess, apparently!"
Boothill, who had just come up the stairs and turned the corner, looked over at being called loudly and stopped for a moment.
In front of a classmate who said they wanted to confess stood Argenti.
Indeed, Argenti was looking down somewhat apologetically, slightly different from his usual dignified behavior.
From Boothill's position, Eri was hidden behind Argenti's shadow and could not be seen.
So, in other words, what does this...
Before the information processing in Boothill's brain could catch up,
"I'm tellin' you, that's not it!"
He heard Eri's voice.
Right, yeah. There's no way.
Boothill, finally understanding the situation, began walking again. Argenti, who turned around, had a look of relief on his face.
"What's up, y'all got business with me?"
Stopping next to Argenti, Boothill looked down at Eri.
"Yeah, the homeroom teacher said you can skip fourth period, so come to the career counseling room."
"Huh? That's a pain. I'll just go to class then. What's next?"
"PE!"
"That's a pain too..."
"Anyway, I did my part and told you! Let's go! Argenti, sorry for dragging you into this."
"See you!"
Eri and Kei left quickly, and the voltage in the hallway began to drop.
Boothill glanced at Argenti.
"Did you get caught up in that?"
Argenti also turned to Boothill.
"It was nothing much. ...Are you not going to the career counseling room?"
"Nah, I'll go. Runnin' away just makes more trouble in the long run."
Argenti wondered what kind of career counseling would require an individual interview to be set up.
"The deadline for submitting the career preference form was last week, was it not? What did you write?"
At the straight question from Argenti, Boothill hesitated for a moment.
"I'm plannin' on goin' on a journey. Prob'ly."
On a journey?
He thought he had spoken it aloud, but Argenti was silent.
It was neither employment nor further education.
Argenti had unconsciously assumed.
That surely even after graduation, even if their paths diverged, they would be able to meet and talk casually.
Argenti realized for the first time that he had, on his own, integrated Boothill into his life from here on.
The first bell rang.
"You're gonna be late, get goin'."
With a thump, Boothill's right hand patted Argenti's back.
By the time Argenti turned around, Boothill had already turned on his heel and was heading toward the stairs he had come up.
After school, Boothill was the first to arrive at the student council room.
The key must be borrowed from the staff room, so if the key is there, one knows they are the first to arrive.
He opened the door and entered, taking out several thick files from the cabinet in the back. He spread them out on the large central desk, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
What Boothill began was the verification of the ledgers for these past two years. He checked whether there were any discrepancies between the budgeted costs and actual costs bound in the files, cross-referencing the records with his memory of the actual event results.
For Boothill, this was agonizing work.
However, someone had to verify it so the juniors would not have trouble, and that someone could only be Boothill or Argenti, the only ones who had been in the student council for two consecutive years.
"I am sorry, homeroom ran long and I am late."
"Welcome back."
Boothill looked up and replied to Argenti, who arrived about ten minutes later.
"You have already started. I shall begin creating the handover documents."
"I'm countin' on ya. There's bound to be stuff only the President knows, after all."
The numerous reforms achieved by the student council cannot be discussed without Argenti's sense and wisdom. It was also their job as seniors to leave behind those personalized methods.
Argenti, opening his laptop at the President's desk, began to compile the how-to's in a draft document.
The sound of Boothill flipping through papers, the sound of Argenti typing, the sound of rain hitting the window, and the second hand of the wall clock.
A quiet time where irregular yet rhythmic sounds echoed.
By the time Boothill finished verifying the latest documents and looked up, the sun had set, and the sky, which had been dark to begin with, had grown even darker. Argenti also stopped his work and looked toward Boothill.
"Are you finished?"
"Yeah... The past stuff was fine, but I found one mistake in the recent ledgers. That stationery cost you paid outta pocket for the entrance ceremony preparations ain't in here."
"Ah... the application process was such a hassle that I said it was fine for me to cover it."
"It ain't fine. You still got the receipt?"
"I understand. ...Please wait a moment."
Argenti reached into the bag placed on the floor and took out his wallet. Looking at the beige leather item, Boothill realized it was the first time he had seen what kind of wallet Argenti owned. Taking out the receipt in question, Argenti stood up and walked over to Boothill.
"This is it."
"Mm."
Boothill took it, corrected the ledger, and wrote an additional application form. He handed the second copy, carbon-transferred, to Argenti.
"I'll file the application. You go pick up the cash yourself."
"Thank you very much."
Returning to his seat, Argenti put the copy of the application and his wallet into his bag, then left saying, "I shall go print the handover documents," taking his laptop toward the staff room where the printer was located.
Boothill, having finished his work, found himself restless and looked around the student council room once more.
There were scratches and graffiti left behind by their seniors, but not a single trace of their own presence remained anywhere in this room.
At first, it was a role forced upon him by a teacher, but it had been fun in its own way for Boothill.
The fact that club activities had become a bother, and the fact that he never felt like wanting to hang out with anyone, was all on account of the fulfilling time spent here.
Standing up, Boothill returned the files to the cabinet. Before long, Argenti returned with his laptop and the printed handover booklet.
"I am back. With this, our work is finally over, is it not?"
"...Reckon so."
Suddenly, a silence fell.
Argenti stowed his laptop in his bag, placed the handover document on the President's desk, and looked down.
"I could not say it in front of the juniors during last week's regular meeting, but... I feel lonely."
"......Yeah."
The day a junior was about to cry the day before the culture festival because the preparations were not going to be finished in time, and Argenti had told them, "We can make it if we all do it together." After sending the juniors home first and getting permission from the teacher, the two of them worked alone until quite a late hour. After it was over, neither of them was the type to say something thoughtful like "Let's grab a bite before we head home," so the way back in their state of exhaustion was silent.
During the final exams last March, the student council had organized a two-day study session. A thread on the school social network saying Boothill's way of teaching is real easy to understand and kind went viral, and Argenti had posted, Is it not? I too occasionally receive his help with math and physics, which only added fuel to the fire. The phrase Partner Flexing had been popular until spring break started, a memory still fresh.
The hard times, the fun times, it all started from this room.
"Shall we head home?"
Argenti spoke as he always did and slung his bag over his shoulder.
He neatly pushed back his chair and headed for the door. It was just as he placed his fingers on the handle, about to open it.
Suddenly, his wrist was pulled.
By the time he realized it, Boothill's serious face was right in front of him, and his back was pressed against the door.
"Um,"
Receiving Argenti's bewildered gaze, Boothill exhaled, his left hand still gripping Argenti's wrist and his right hand pressed against the door.
The feelings he had refused to admit for so long overflowed inside Boothill.
I didn't wanna part, I wanted to stay together longer, I wanted to see him even if it wasn't for student council work, I wanted to touch him, I wanted to kiss him. Whether he turned down all them confessions because he didn't have no interest in romance or because he had a lover, I didn't know the reason at all. Even so, I wanted a once-in-a-lifetime chance. Before I knew it, I'd gone and fallen in love. To keep quiet with these feelin's and let the curtain fall on such piddlin' administrative work—I absolutely, fucked well hated the idea.
"I know ya don't do the whole datin' thing."
"But,"
"I'm in love with ya."
So, let this bein' the end be a lie.
Boothill felt time come to a halt.
Even the sound of the rain that had been echoing the whole time did not bother him for a moment.
There was no sound at all; only Argenti's reaction appeared to move with excessive slowness.
Then, Argenti's face became the one he always wore when receiving a confession—an expression of being slightly troubled.
"Please forgive me."
I already knew this.
Immediately lowering his expectations, Boothill attempted to defend himself.
He had just built his own escape route.
Not dating anyone.
This partner of his had always been that way, after all.
"No, that is not it. It is just that I am much more cunning than you think."
Reading from his expression that Boothill was hurt, Argenti muttered painfully, moving past his troubled look.
"I have been waiting for a long time for you to say those words to me."
Finally, the sound of the rain returned to Boothill's ears.
A sound of rain far more violent than last week, than this afternoon, or even than a moment ago.
"...What'd you... What'd you just say...?"
"I have loved you for a long time. I am sorry I could not say it."
Boothill's eyes wavered.
"Ah, well... Sorry, what're you... what're you apologizin' for...?"
"For the fact that I could not say it first."
"Huh...? It's fine if I'm the one who's first, ain't it...?"
"But surely, I am the one who fell in love first."
"The one who falls in love first's gotta be the one to confess?"
"No, it is not as if that is a rule... but I think that if I had confessed back when I first fell for you, I certainly would have been rejected."
"Y'all can't know that for sure."
"Yes... what I wish to say is that you possess the courage that I did not have."
"Which means..."
Argenti took a step closer to Boothill.
Realizing he was trying to say something, Boothill closed his mouth with a slight tension. He waited for Argenti's words.
Like a flower blooming, Argenti spoke.
"I love you, too. Please be my boyfriend."
"...Yeah."
Boothill's answer was short.
He moved the palm that had been gripping the wrist to the back and pulled Argenti close. Argenti buried his face in the shoulder that was now so near and began to speak of the feelings he no longer needed to suppress.
"I have loved you for a long time, truly a long time. I first learned of you during your speech at the election and fell for you at first sight. When you were not in class, you were always in the courtyard, were you not? I looked forward to seeing you from the classroom window. Thank you for checking in on the juniors regarding their progress with student council work. I also knew that you were always finding the spots I could not reach and filling the gaps. The longer the time we spent together, the more I fell in love with you."
Boothill felt the corners of his eyes grow hot, but not wanting to shed tears, he set his lips in a firm line.
The election speech in his first year had been a half-hearted, reckless thing he spoke only because it felt like a bother.
Going to the courtyard when he wanted to ditch class was simply because it was a quicker way to be alone than searching for an empty classroom.
Checking in on the juniors was also just to distribute the burden placed on the President across the team as much as possible.
Those things that were "nothing more than that" to Boothill had resonated deeply with Argenti.
"Regarding the career path I heard about today—I wish to go with you."
Argenti wanted to convey that he was serious.
Even though he had felt so deeply, he still could not say it.
It was the same as the student council work.
The one who would build the path to realization was, after all, Boothill.
However, at Argenti's words, Boothill knitted his brows slightly.
"Don't do it, they'll spend a whole hour givin' ya career counselin'."
"I do not mind even then. What would they say to me?"
"Stuff like whether y'all intend to let your talent go to waste, or that there's this and that kind of potential... a bunch of horse-pucky."
"Talent and potential do not vanish just because one goes on a journey. Is that not so?"
Raising his face, Argenti gazed at Boothill.
Boothill gazed back at Argenti.
Neither could bridge the gap of a few centimeters.
Argenti closed his eyes, and finally, Boothill placed his hands on both of Argenti's cheeks.
Their lips overlapped softly, then parted.
The sound of footsteps coming down the hallway reached the ears of the two as they gazed at each other again.
Judging from the time, it was likely a teacher on patrol. It was annoying to have an interruption, but Boothill took a step back.
"Let's get on home."
"...Yes."
Over the heads of the two who left the school, there was a single plastic umbrella.
Argenti did not use his own umbrella, entering Boothill's instead.
They walked with their hot hands, which had been idle at their sides, clasped together.
Taking advantage of the fact that no one could see them in the heavy rain, Boothill pulled back the hand that had almost slipped away as they neared the station.
"I'm walkin' ya all the way home."
He said this because he did not want to look at a platform where Argenti was not present today, and Argenti squeezed his palm back and answered with a single phrase,
"I would be happy to."
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