Archive of Our Own

The classroom buzzed with the usual morning chatter, a dozen conversations overlapping into a familiar blur of noise. Chairs scraped against the floor. Someone laughed too loudly near the windows. A pair of students argued over homework they definitely should have finished the night before.

It was the sort of ordinary morning that slipped by unnoticed.

Outside, the last traces of winter clung stubbornly to the air. Sunlight poured through the classroom windows, warm and golden, but every time the wind rattled the glass, Hirose could almost feel the lingering cold against his nose and cheeks. Spring was close enough to see, yet not quite close enough to touch.

It should be a nice day.

Buzz.

His phone vibrated.

Right.

Hirose pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen. A message from Hana. A small smile tugged at his lips before he could stop it.

"Good morning! Don't forget the worksheet for English today!"

Attached was a picture of her smiling face, half-hidden behind a convenience store bun.

He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the photo. Hana really was sweet. Kind, thoughtful, cute—every little thing she did seemed to come naturally to her. She remembered details most people would forget, checked in on him when she knew he was stressed, and somehow always managed to make even the simplest messages feel personal. She was exactly the kind of girl people dreamed about dating, the kind of girl he should have been thrilled to have.

Yet as he stared at the screen, a familiar unease settled in his chest. It wasn't strong enough to be called dread, nor sharp enough to be pain, but it lingered there all the same. Every message from her seemed to bring it back, leaving him with the uncomfortable feeling that something wasn't quite right. His thumb hovered over the screen as he searched for an explanation he never seemed able to find.

Why did he feel like he was forcing something?

The thought immediately made his stomach knot. Why couldn't he just relax and be happy?

Maybe there was something wrong with him.

The thought surfaced more often than he liked lately. Maybe he was taking her for granted. Maybe he was being selfish. Maybe he just needed more time to get used to things. Relationships were new to him, after all. It wasn't like there was some switch that flipped the moment you started dating someone.

Still...

Everyone always talked about relationships like they were exciting. Like the world suddenly became brighter. Like every text message made your heart race and every moment together felt special.

Hirose didn't feel that.

Not exactly.

He liked Hana. He really did. He enjoyed talking to her. He liked seeing her smile. The idea of hurting her made his chest ache.

But lately, whenever she asked if he wanted to spend time together after school, his first reaction wasn't excitement.

It was exhaustion.

The realization made him feel awful.

Not because he didn't want to see her. He just felt like there was never enough time anymore. Between school, club activities, studying, and now dating, the days seemed to disappear before he could even think about them. Sometimes he caught himself missing things he hadn't realized were important until they were gone. Hanging around after class. Walking home with friends. Stupid conversations that lasted way longer than they should have.

Things had changed so gradually he hadn't noticed until now.

With a quiet sigh, he locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. Maybe he was overthinking things again. He had a bad habit of doing that. His gaze drifted around the classroom, searching for anything to pull him out of his own head.

Anywhere but here. 

Anywhere but this endless loop of questions he couldn't answer.

Thankfully, before he could sink any deeper into them, the bell rang.

The familiar tune rang through the classroom chatter. Conversations died down almost immediately as students hurried back to their seats. At the front of the room, Sensei Otogiri tapped a textbook against his desk, drawing everyone's attention forward.

"Take your seats." He said as the last few students hurried to their respective chairs.

A wave of relief washed through Hirose.

Perfect.

For the next hour, someone else could tell him what to think about.

The steady drone of Otogiri's lecture proved surprisingly effective. Notes filled his notebook. Examples were written on the board. Time moved forward without demanding anything from him.

Then came the quiz.

A collective groan swept through the classroom.  

Stacks of papers began moving between rows.

Hirose accepted the pile from the student ahead of him, took one for himself, and passed the remainder backward without a second thought.

Simple. Easy. Predictable.

Hirose almost wished life could stay this straightforward. There was comfort in things that had clear answers. You read the question, showed your work, and got a grade. Even if you got it wrong, at least you knew why.

People weren't like that.

Relationships certainly weren't.

His pencil hovered over the page as his thoughts drifted away from the quiz. Hana's smiling face flashed through his mind again, followed immediately by the familiar knot of guilt in his stomach. She was kind. She cared about him. She deserved someone who could return those feelings without hesitation.

So why did he keep hesitating?

Maybe he was overthinking things. Maybe everyone felt this way at first. Maybe he just needed more time.

Still, lately it felt like he was constantly trying to convince himself of something he should have already known.

His gaze wandered across the classroom.

When was the last time he'd actually spent time with his friends? Not just seeing them during class or exchanging a few words between lessons. Actually hanging out. Going somewhere after school. Wasting an afternoon together for no reason other than they wanted to.

Takeuchi and Mukai still talked to him every day, sure. Oomori still tagged along on his walk to school. But lately it felt like every afternoon belonged to someone else. Every weekend too.

He couldn't even remember the last time he spoke to—

"Nakamura?"

The voice cut cleanly through his thoughts.

A student a few rows away was holding the remaining stack of quiz papers, staring at the empty desk behind him. For a moment, nobody reacted. The room seemed to pause as everyone's attention slowly shifted toward the back of the classroom.

Then Otogiri Sensei pushed back his chair and stood. A faint crease appeared between his brows.

"Again?” He muttered, then stood taller, directing the class, “Has anyone seen him today?"

Something cold settled unexpectedly in Hirose's chest.

His eyes drifted toward Nakamura's desk.

It was empty.

The chair was neatly pushed in beneath it. There was no bag hanging from the side, no books stacked on top, no sign that anyone had sat there at all. Just an empty seat.

Strange.

Because now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen Nakamura yesterday either.

Had he?

Hirose frowned. For some reason, he couldn't remember.

Why isn’t anyone else worried?

A brief note was made in the attendance book, 

Sensei wrote it off as he was absent, supposedly for another day. His classmates brushed it off since Nakamura disappeared to them normally anyways, but not Hirose. He tried thinking back on it, images of yesterday flashing through his mind, and yet somehow none of them had Nakamura at the least in the background. 

Everyone else seemed content to leave it at that.

To be fair, it wasn't that Nakamura was known for disappearing. Quite the opposite. He was almost always there before most of the class arrived, and he left at the same time every day. Reliable. Punctual. Predictable.

The problem was that people forgot him.

Not intentionally, of course. Nakamura simply had a way of fading into the background. He rarely drew attention to himself, rarely spoke unless spoken to, and somehow managed to spend entire school days sitting among his classmates without leaving much of an impression. By the end of the day, most people would struggle to recall whether they'd spoken to him at all.

Nakamura Okuto was there.

People just didn't notice.

The realization left a bitter taste in Hirose's mouth.

As the lesson continued, he found himself trying to remember yesterday. Not just vaguely, but really remember it.

He remembered arriving at school. He remembered Takeuchi complaining about homework before first period had even started. He remembered lunch, Hana's messages, the quiz he'd forgotten to study for. He remembered walking between classes and chatting with Mukai in the hallway.

But Nakamura?

Nothing.

No glimpse of him sitting quietly at his desk. No awkward wave from across the room. No sight of his dark hair disappearing around a corner.

The harder Hirose searched his memory, the more unsettling it became.

It was like trying to remember a dream after waking up. Every time he thought he had something, it slipped away before he could grasp it.

Then another memory surfaced.

Two days ago.

"U-um, Hirose?"

The taller boy had caught up with him just before he left his desk, slightly red as though he'd spent several minutes working up the courage to approach him. His hands had been fidgeting with the strap of his bag, eyes focused on Hirose like he had all the confidence in the world.

"Do you w-want to walk home together?" His serious expression softened into a hesitant smile. It was small, but unmistakably genuine—the kind that reached his eyes and lingered there, warm and real.

At the time, Hirose hadn't thought much of it.

He'd smiled apologetically and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Oh sorry. I'm walking home with someone else today."

Nakamura immediately nodded.

"Right. I get it"

Then he smiled. Or at least, Hirose thought it had been a smile.

The memory lingered stubbornly in the back of his mind as Sensei's voice droned on from the front of the classroom. Chalk scraped against the board. Pages turned. Someone near the windows yawned loudly enough to earn a glare. Everything carried on exactly as it always did, yet Hirose found himself staring at Nakamura's empty desk instead.

Had Nakamura seemed disappointed?

Upset?

No. At least not obviously.

But Nakamura had never been very good at showing those kinds of things. If something was bothering him, he usually kept it to himself. Sometimes Hirose wondered if he hid things so well because he didn't want to burden anyone. Looking back now, he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard Nakamura complain about anything. Even when he was embarrassed, even when something upset him, he always seemed to swallow it down and smile through it.

A knot slowly formed in Hirose's stomach.

The desk sat untouched near the back of the room, chair neatly pushed in as if Nakamura might walk through the door at any moment and take his seat. Somehow that made it worse. It looked too normal. Too ordinary. Like there wasn't supposed to be anything wrong.

Hirose liked to think he understood his friends. Maybe not perfectly, but well enough. He knew when Takeuchi was about to do something stupid. He knew when Hana was upset even before she admitted it. He knew Kawamura's habit of humming while she worked.

So why hadn't he noticed Nakamura was gone?

His gaze drifted toward the window. Pale sunlight spilled across the classroom floor, catching dust motes that floated lazily through the air. Yesterday felt completely normal. Classes, lunch, conversations in the hallway. Yet when he tried to picture it now, Nakamura wasn't there. Not yesterday. Not this morning. Only after someone pointed out the empty desk had he realized something was missing.

The realization left him deeply unsettled.

Why was Nakamura absent?

Why hadn't he told anyone?

And perhaps most troubling of all, why did nobody else seem concerned?

The questions lingered in the back of his mind for the rest of class. By the time the quiz ended, Hirose was fairly certain he'd failed it. The answers on the page blurred together while his thoughts wandered elsewhere.

Nakamura.

The name kept resurfacing no matter how hard he tried to focus.

Crowded around his desk, Takeuchi was enthusiastically talking about something. Judging by the dramatic hand gestures and exaggerated expressions, it was probably another story involving Hamaoka. Or maybe he was complaining about the quiz. Either way, Hirose hadn't heard a single word.

The bell rang, and immediately the classroom came alive. Chairs scraped against the floor as students stood. Conversations sprang up all around him. Bags zipped shut. Someone laughed loudly near the windows.

Normally, Hirose would've joined in without a second thought. He would've asked Takeuchi what he was rambling about, joked around for a few minutes, and forgotten all about the quiz.

Instead, his eyes drifted back toward Nakamura's desk.

The empty desk remained exactly as it had all morning.

Still empty.

Hirose found himself staring at it while the rest of the classroom moved around him. Classmates were already packing away their books, conversations springing back to life now that the test was over. Chairs scraped against the floor, bags unzipped, and somewhere near the windows a group had already started arguing over which answers were correct.

Yet his eyes kept drifting back to Nakamura's seat.

A strange uneasiness settled in his chest.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Hirose pushed back his chair and stood. The sudden movement nearly sent it tipping over behind him.

"Hey, where're you going?" Takeuchi called from nearby.

"I'll be right back."

Hirose offered an easy smile, though it felt forced, and slipped through the rows of desks. His gaze landed on Kawamura near the back of the classroom. She was carefully putting away her notebooks, completely unaware of his approach.

"Kawamura!"

The girl jumped so hard she nearly dropped everything in her hands.

"Oh!"

She looked up at him with wide eyes before letting out a small laugh.

"Good morning, Hirose."

"Ah—right. Good morning."

Heat crept into his face. He'd practically rushed over without thinking.

Kawamura seemed amused by his embarrassment. "You're unusually energetic this morning."

"Sorry." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay." She tucked a notebook into her bag and looked at him curiously. "Did you need something?"

"Actually, yeah."

The words came easier than he expected, but the question itself still made him hesitate.

"Do you know why Nakamura isn't here?"

The change in her expression was immediate.

"Nakamura?"

"Yeah." Hirose glanced briefly toward the empty desk before looking back at her. "You two are friends, right? I thought maybe he'd told you something."

Kawamura followed his gaze across the room. Her brow furrowed slightly.

"No..." she said slowly. "He didn't mention anything to me."

Something sank inside Hirose.

"You haven't heard from him?"

She shook her head.

"Not since a few days ago."

"...Really?"

"Now that you mention it… Yeah. I wonder why."

For the first time, Kawamura looked genuinely concerned. Her eyes lingered on Nakamura's desk, and Hirose got the uncomfortable feeling that she was only now realizing how long he'd been gone.

"I thought he was just absent yesterday," she admitted.

"So did I."

The answer slipped out before he could stop himself.

Neither of them spoke for a moment.

The classroom carried on around them, loud and busy and completely unconcerned. A group near the door burst into laughter. Someone complained dramatically about the quiz. Life continued as though nothing was wrong.

Yet standing there beside Kawamura, Hirose couldn't shake the feeling that something was.

—

The walk home passed in a blur. Hirose remembered talking to Hana, laughing at something she said, remembering stopping by a convenience store and helping her choose between two drinks she couldn't decide between. At least, he thought he remembered. The details felt strangely distant, as though he had been watching himself go through the motions from somewhere far away rather than actually participating in them. Every conversation, every smile, every familiar part of his routine seemed muffled beneath the persistent weight pressing at the back of his mind.

By the time he got home, changed into more comfortable clothes, and settled into the chair at his desk, the uneasy feeling from earlier still hadn't gone away. If anything, it had only grown stronger. The quiet of his room gave it space to breathe.

With a sigh, Hirose rested his chin in one hand and stared out the window. Evening had begun to settle over the neighborhood. The last traces of sunlight stretched across the rooftops in warm shades of gold and orange before slowly fading into softer blues and grays. Shadows lengthened between the houses, and the distant sounds of traffic drifted lazily through the open window. Normally he liked this time of day. There was something comforting about it, something peaceful.

Today, however, the silence felt wrong.

His gaze wandered aimlessly across his desk. Textbooks sat stacked in one corner beside a pile of unfinished worksheets. A notebook lay open to a page he had no intention of reading. Near the edge sat a half-finished assignment he should probably be working on. His eyes moved over each object without really seeing them until they finally landed on something that made him pause.

The octopus pen.

For a moment, he simply stared at it.

Then a quiet laugh escaped him despite himself.

Of course it was an octopus pen.

Reaching forward, he picked it up and turned it slowly between his fingers. The tiny octopus perched on top stared back at him with its permanently cheerful expression, its little closed cartoon eyes somehow managing to look absurdly proud of themselves. The memory surfaced immediately.

Nakamura had a sparkle in his eyes when he'd given it to him, stumbling over his words the way he usually did.

A small smile tugged at Hirose's lips despite the knot in his stomach. Nakamura was always like that whenever octopuses came up. The shy, reserved boy who usually spoke so softly people had to lean in to hear him would suddenly transform. Facts would pour out faster than anyone could keep up with. Strange trivia, obscure stories, random details he had somehow memorized years ago. His hands would start moving without him noticing, sketching shapes through the air as he explained something only he seemed capable of finding fascinating.

Most people looked confused when it happened.

Some looked amused.

A few looked uncomfortable.

But Hirose had always liked it.

There was something strangely endearing about watching Nakamura get completely swept away by his own enthusiasm. For those brief moments, he forgot to be self-conscious. He forgot to worry about how he looked or sounded. He forgot to be embarrassed. He simply became himself.

The smile slowly faded.

His eyes lowered to the pen resting in his hand.

Why was he thinking about this?

Nakamura wasn't dead. The thought was so ridiculous that Hirose immediately felt stupid for even entertaining it. He wasn't missing, either. He was probably sick. People got sick all the time.

Maybe he had the flu. Maybe he'd caught some bug and was sleeping through most of the day. Maybe he'd come back tomorrow looking perfectly normal, and Hirose would spend the rest of the week feeling embarrassed about how much he'd worried over nothing.

That had to be it. It was the most logical explanation.

So why didn't it make him feel any better?

With a frustrated groan, Hirose dropped forward until his forehead hit the desk.

"Ugh..."

The muffled sound disappeared into the wood. Absent-mindedly, he reached out and flicked the octopus pen. It rolled across the desk, wobbling slightly before coming to a stop. Hirose watched it for a moment, his thoughts drifting aimlessly after it.

Why was this bothering him so much? Seriously, what was wrong with him?

If Mukai suddenly disappeared for two days, he'd be concerned. Of course he would. If Takeuchi stopped showing up to school, he'd probably send him a message asking what was going on.

But this felt different.

And he couldn't figure out why.

Every time he pictured Nakamura's empty desk, his stomach twisted unpleasantly. Every time he remembered how casually everyone had accepted his absence, something inside him felt strangely angry. And every time he imagined Nakamura sitting somewhere alone, sick or upset or dealing with something by himself, a sharp ache settled in his chest that refused to go away.

Hirose sat upright so suddenly his chair creaked beneath him.

No. That wasn't it. He was just worried about his friend. That was all. Friends worried about each other. There was nothing strange about that. Nothing strange at all. Yet even as he tried to convince himself, another thought suddenly crashed into him with enough force to make him freeze.

"...I don't even have his LINE."

The realization hung in the air.

Slowly, Hirose stared at the wall.

How did he not have Nakamura's LINE?

They'd known each other for months. Maybe longer. They talked all the time. Didn't they?

The more he thought about it, the worse it became. He didn't know Nakamura's phone number. He didn't know where Nakamura lived. He didn't know what he did after school. All he knew was that Nakamura had a younger sister and that he knew part of the route he took home. Beyond that, there was surprisingly little.

If something had actually happened, Hirose wouldn't even know where to begin. He didn't know where Nakamura lived, didn't know who he could call, didn't even have a way to contact him directly. The realization hit with startling force, sending a cold weight sinking into the pit of his stomach. His grip tightened unconsciously around the octopus pen until the plastic creaked softly beneath his fingers.

Tomorrow.

He'd ask tomorrow.

Nakamura would show up looking completely fine, probably confused about why everyone (Hirose) was making such a big deal out of a couple absences. Hirose would finally stop obsessing over this stupid problem, and then he'd ask for his LINE before he forgot again.

Maybe they could walk home together sometime.

The thought appeared so naturally that he didn't even question it.

Instead, he found himself staring down at the little octopus perched atop the pen while the room gradually darkened around him. The sounds outside softened as evening settled fully over the neighborhood, but his thoughts refused to quiet.

"Do you w-want to walk home together?"

Hirose stared at the octopus.

For some reason, he suddenly wished he'd said yes.

—

The next morning, Hirose arrived at school earlier than usual.

Not intentionally. At least, that was what he told himself.

He had simply woken before his alarm, spent too long staring at the ceiling, and eventually decided there was no point trying to fall back asleep. The walk to school felt shorter than normal, his thoughts circling the same question over and over.

By the time he reached the classroom door, the knot of worry that had occupied him for two days had dulled into something quieter. It still lingered in the back of his mind, but no longer sharp enough to make his stomach twist.

Nakamura was probably fine. He will show up today. Everything would go back to normal.

Then Hirose looked inside and stopped in the doorway.

There he was.

Relief hit so suddenly that Hirose almost laughed out loud. Nakamura sat in his usual seat near the back of the classroom, his bag hanging neatly from the side of his desk and a notebook open in front of him.

Thank goodness.

The tension that had been wound tightly in Hirose's chest loosened all at once. Without thinking, he stepped into the room and started toward him.

"Nakamu—"

"Hirose!"

He turned sharply at the familiar voice. Hana stood in the hallway just outside the classroom, smiling brightly as she waved him over.

"Oh—"

Hirose glanced back toward the rear of the room. Nakamura hadn't looked up. His attention remained fixed on the notebook in front of him, dark bangs obscuring his eyes.

For a moment, Hirose considered continuing anyway. Just a quick hello. Just to make sure he was okay.

But Hana was already walking toward him, and ignoring his girlfriend in the middle of the hallway would have been rude.

"You're early today," she said, tilting her head.

"Huh?" Hirose blinked. "Oh. I guess I am."

"I don't think I've ever seen you here this early."

"That's not true."

"It might be," she said with a soft laugh.

They lingered near the doorway as students drifted past them into the classroom. Hana shifted her bag higher onto her shoulder, studying him for a moment before asking quietly, "Did something happen?"

The question caught him off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You just seem different today."

Hirose swallowed. Why did he suddenly feel guilty?

"Do I?"

"A little."

Her tone carried no accusation, only concern. While she waited for an answer, Hirose found his gaze drifting past her shoulder toward the back of the classroom.

Nakamura still hadn't looked up.

Usually, when Hirose glanced over, he'd find Nakamura already looking back. Sometimes with a startled expression, sometimes with an awkward smile, but always watching him in some small, quiet way.

Today that never happened.

"Hirose?"

"Hm?"

His attention snapped back to Hana. She had turned slightly to glance into the classroom herself.

"Is there something happening back there?"

"What?" Hirose blinked.

"You keep looking toward the back of the room."

Had he really been that obvious?

"Oh." He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly. "Sorry. No, nothing's happening. What were you saying?"

Hana shook her head gently. "Nothing important. You don't have to apologize."

For a moment, she followed his gaze toward the classroom before looking back at him. "You just seem distracted, that's all. Are you feeling sick?"

"Maybe a little," he lied, hoping it sounded more believable than the truth.

"Hirose..." Hana's smile faded slightly. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Not really." He absently toyed with the strap of his bag, noticing the small crab keychain swinging there.

"You really shouldn't do that to yourself. Were you studying?"

"Something like that."

She nodded, though she still looked unconvinced. "Try to get some rest tonight, okay? It's not good for you."

"I'll try."

"Try not to fall asleep during class."

"No promises."

A quiet laugh escaped her, and Hirose laughed too. For a moment, the conversation felt easy again, the way it always did with Hana.

She talked about a television show she had watched the night before, and Hirose gave opinions despite never having seen it. Somehow they ended up arguing about whether one of the characters had a cool haircut or a ridiculous one. At one point Hana laughed so hard she nearly dropped her bag, catching it against her hip at the last second.

Hirose couldn't help laughing too.

Almost.

Because every few moments, his attention wandered. While Hana talked, his eyes drifted past her shoulder toward the back of the room.

Nakamura remained at his desk, one hand resting loosely on the open notebook. He wasn't reading, wasn't writing. Every now and then his fingers shifted slightly against the page, as though he were thinking about doing something and then deciding against it.

The longer Hirose watched, the stranger it felt.

Usually Nakamura was doing something. Scribbling notes. Reading ahead. Fidgeting with a pencil. Even daydreaming seemed more active than this.

Around them, the classroom gradually filled with noise. Chairs scraped against the floor, bags thumped onto desks, and overlapping conversations bounced off the walls.

Nakamura seemed untouched by any of it.

Then the warning bell rang.

The atmosphere changed instantly. Students hurried toward their seats, conversations breaking apart as notebooks were pulled out and chairs scraped into place.

Hirose's stomach sank.

Already?

Hana adjusted the strap of her bag and gave him an apologetic smile. "See you later, Hirose."

"Yeah, later."

Before he could say anything else, she was already hurrying down the hallway toward her own classroom.

Hirose looked back into the room.

Nakamura had finally moved, but only to turn a page in his notebook. Even from across the classroom, he looked oddly small somehow, folded into himself as though trying not to take up space.

A knot tightened in Hirose's chest.

I'll talk to him after class.

The thought came quickly, and he latched onto it immediately.

Yeah. After class. That was fine. He had plenty of time.

With one last glance toward the back of the room, Hirose hurried to his seat just as the teacher entered.

The morning lesson felt endless. Normally he wasn't the type to stare at the clock, but today he found himself checking the time every few minutes while pretending to take notes.

Whenever his attention wandered, it drifted toward Nakamura.

Each glance revealed something slightly different, but none of it reassured him. The notebook remained open with only a few lines added to the page. Sometimes Nakamura stared down at it. Sometimes toward the window. Once, Hirose caught him staring blankly at the wall beside the teacher's desk.

It wasn't that Nakamura wasn't paying attention. It was more like he wasn't entirely there. And never once did he look Hirose's way. 

By the time the final bell rang, Hirose was already halfway out of his seat.

Perfect.

Nakamura always took forever packing up. Usually he organized everything with absurd care, making sure every pencil was in place and every notebook stacked neatly inside his bag. 

He'd catch him before he left.

"Hirose."

His hand froze halfway to grabbing his bag.

Oomori stood beside his desk balancing a precarious stack of papers against his chest. A few sheets threatened to slide free every time he shifted his grip.

"Could you help me carry these to the faculty office?"

Normally Hirose would've agreed without hesitation. Even now, the automatic yes was already forming.

"Uh—"

His eyes flicked toward the back of the classroom.

Nakamura was already standing. The sight sent a jolt through him. Why was he moving so fast? 

His desk was already cleared, his bag slung over one shoulder. For a brief moment, Hirose thought their eyes might finally meet.

Instead, Nakamura tightened his grip on the strap of his bag, lowered his head further, and turned toward the door.

Then he walked out.

Just like that.

"Hirose?"

Oomori's voice pulled him back to reality.

The doorway was already empty. Students streamed into the hallway laughing and chatting as though nothing unusual had happened.

Nakamura was gone.

"...Right," Hirose said automatically.

His gaze lingered on the empty doorway for another second before he forced himself to look away and reach for the papers.

The uneasy feeling that had haunted him for two days settled heavily back into his chest.

Only now, with Nakamura finally back at school, it somehow felt even worse.

Today was not going as planned in the slightest.

The moment Hirose spotted Nakamura that morning, he'd thought the problem would solve itself. Nakamura was right there within reach. Whatever strange feeling had been gnawing at him for the past two days should have finally been put to rest.

Instead, the opposite had happened.

Every opportunity he found to speak with Nakamura seemed to vanish before he could reach him. Between classes, a teacher stopped him to help carry supplies. At lunch, Mukai and Takeuchi dragged him into a conversation he couldn't escape. After class, Oomori needed help with paperwork. Every time Hirose turned around, someone was asking for a favor.

Ordinarily, he wouldn't have minded. In fact, he usually liked helping people. Today, however, each interruption felt like a personal attack from the universe. Not that he wanted to think that way. That was mean. His friends weren't doing anything wrong.

Still, every time he caught sight of Nakamura disappearing around a corner or slipping through a doorway before he could catch up, a fresh wave of frustration settled over him.

By the time the final class of the day ended, Hirose felt as though he had accomplished absolutely nothing.

"Hirose!"

The familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He looked toward the doorway and immediately spotted Hana waiting for him outside the classroom. Sunlight streamed through the hallway windows behind her, casting a soft glow around her hair as she waved.

A smile tugged at Hirose's lips out of habit.

"Ready to head home?"

"Ah—just a second?" Hirose said, already half-rising from his seat. "I need to check something first."

"Okay," Hana replied easily. "Take your time."

There wasn't a hint of annoyance in her voice. She simply stepped aside to let a few students pass through the doorway, patiently waiting while he turned toward the back of the classroom.

Relieved, Hirose looked toward Nakamura's desk.

Then stopped.

The seat was empty.

"...Oh." His stomach sank, swallowing the dry feeling in his throat.

The chair had already been pushed neatly beneath the desk, as if no one had occupied the seat at all. Nakamura's notebook was gone, along with the worn school bag he always kept hooked over the side. The space looked strangely empty, stripped of every small detail that usually marked his presence.

Hirose stared at it for a moment longer than necessary, his stomach sinking as the realization settled over him. Once again, he had missed his chance.

The frustration that had been simmering beneath his skin all day slowly gave way to something heavier, something far more unsettling. A knot tightened painfully in his chest as he continued staring at the vacant desk, unable to shake the feeling that this wasn't a coincidence anymore.

Is he avoiding me?

The thought appeared before he could stop it. Immediately, he shook his head.

No. That was ridiculous.

Nakamura wasn't the type to get angry over something small. At least, Hirose didn't think he was. The boy was shy. Nervous. Maybe a little strange sometimes. But petty?

No. That sounded more like something Takeuchi would do.

Nakamura would've just said something.

...Wouldn't he?

—

The uncertainty followed him all the way home.

Later that evening, Hirose found himself sprawled across his bed, one arm tucked behind his head as he stared blankly at the ceiling above him. The familiar glow-in-the-dark stars he'd stuck up there years ago stared back, illuminated faintly by the warm light of his desk lamp across the room. His school bag sat discarded near the door, untouched since he'd gotten home. Normally he'd be doing homework by now or scrolling through his phone, but tonight his thoughts refused to settle.

Instead, they kept circling back to Nakamura.

With a frustrated sigh, Hirose shifted onto his side, bunching up his blanket beneath him. Maybe he'd missed something. Maybe there had been some moment, some tiny interaction, that he'd overlooked completely. The harder he tried to remember, the more every conversation seemed to blur together.

The invitation to walk home together surfaced first.

Nakamura had seemed disappointed when Hirose declined, sure, but not enough to explain this. Besides, Nakamura wasn't the sort of person who would ignore someone over something like that.

At least, Hirose hoped not.

Then another memory surfaced.

Valentine's Day.

The shoe lockers.

Hirose groaned softly and dragged a hand down his face. He'd gone looking for Nakamura because he wanted to ask how things had gone. Whether anyone had confessed to him. Whether he'd received any chocolate.

Then he'd realized the answer almost immediately.

Nobody had.

The memory still made him wince.

At the time, he'd felt awful. Nakamura had already looked embarrassed enough standing there by himself. The last thing Hirose wanted was to make him feel worse by rubbing salt in the wound.

So he'd changed the subject and left.

Could that have been it?

He turned onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow for a moment before lifting his head again.

No.

Nakamura had looked happy when they talked.

Nervous, sure.

But happy.

The more Hirose thought about it, the less any of it made sense. Something had happened after that. Something between then and the day Nakamura vanished. He remembered seeing him in class afterward, but they hadn't actually spoken. Then suddenly Nakamura was gone for days, and now that he was back, he wouldn't even look at him.

But what happened?

With an exasperated groan, Hirose flopped dramatically onto his back again, the mattress creaking beneath him.

"What is wrong with you..." he muttered to himself.

Maybe it wasn't about him at all. The thought made him pause. After all, Nakamura hadn't really spoken to anyone today—not Kawamura, not any of his classmates, nobody.

Maybe something else was bothering him. Maybe he'd gotten sick and still wasn't feeling well. Maybe something happened at home. Maybe he was stressed about school. Maybe—

Hirose blinked.

That made way more sense.

The tension in his shoulders eased almost immediately. He let out a long breath and sank deeper into his mattress, feeling slightly ridiculous for spiraling so badly.

Of course.

He'd been overthinking everything.

Nakamura wasn't angry, he was probably just dealing with something personal.

By tomorrow, he'd be back to normal. Hirose would finally ask for his LINE. Maybe they'd walk home together sometime. Everything would work itself out.

Feeling considerably better, Hirose closed his eyes and settled comfortably into his pillow.

 Easy peasy—

—

Two days.

It had been two days since his return to school.

Two days, and Nakamura hadn't looked at him once.

Not once.

The realization struck Hirose as he sat at his desk, absentmindedly tapping his pencil against an open notebook while the teacher droned on at the front of the classroom.

Normally, whenever Hirose glanced Nakamura's way, he would already find the other boy looking at him first. Sometimes Nakamura would panic and immediately duck his head, pretending to be interested in whatever was on his desk. Sometimes he would offer an awkward little smile before turning bright red. Sometimes he'd get so startled from being caught that he'd nearly fall out of his chair.

But he was always looking at Hirose.

Always.

So why wasn't he now? Hirose dragged both hands down his face and slumped lower in his seat.

"This is driving me insane..." he muttered under his breath.

Maybe Nakamura really was angry. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. What other explanation was there? Something had clearly happened, something Hirose had missed, and until he figured out what it was, he wasn't going to be able to stop thinking about it. By the end of the day, his patience had completely run out. The final bell rang out bringing an end to this torture.

Finally, he thought, I'm not going to waste this chance.

The chime echoed through the classroom, immediately setting off the familiar chaos of students packing their bags and pushing back chairs. Conversations sprang to life all around him as everyone prepared to leave.

Hirose shot out of his seat so quickly that his chair rattled backward against the floor.

The sudden movement sent something tumbling from the edge of his desk.

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

His octopus pen. It had bounced across the classroom floor.

"Oh!"

He lunged after it, weaving between desks as students gathered their belongings. The little octopus topper bobbed as the pen rolled across the classroom floor, slipping between chair legs and narrowly avoiding being stepped on. Hirose hurried after it, squeezing past classmates with hurried apologies as it continued its path toward the back of the room. 

For a brief moment, he was reminded of the day Nakamura had given it to him, how it had rolled across the floor and stopped right at his feet. Now it seemed determined to do the same thing in reverse, rolling straight toward Nakamura's desk as if retracing its journey.

It couldn't have landed in a better place.

Hirose's heart leapt.

Without hesitation, he hurried forward and dropped into a crouch just as the pen bumped lightly against the floor beside Nakamura's shoes. He reached out and scooped it up before it could roll any farther, fingers curling around the familiar plastic body.

For a brief moment, he almost smiled.

This was exactly the opportunity he needed. After spending days chasing after missed chances and watching Nakamura disappear before he could say a single word, it felt like fate had finally decided to throw him a bone. Clutching the octopus pen tightly in his hand, Hirose lifted his head from where he crouched beside the desk.

And he did.

The moment their gazes met, everything else seemed to fade into the background. The chatter of students packing their bags, the scraping of chairs against the floor, even the rush of bodies moving toward the classroom door blurred into distant noise.

And what he saw made his stomach drop.

From this angle Nakamura's eyes were finally visible beneath the curtain of his bangs, and Hirose immediately understood why he'd been avoiding looking at anyone. They were puffy, the skin around them irritated and swollen, but what stood out most was the color.

Red.

The kind of red left behind after crying.

Hirose couldn't stop staring. The realization settled heavily in his chest as he took in the rest of Nakamura's face. Dark shadows lingered beneath his eyes, stark against his pale skin. They looked deeper than simple exhaustion, the kind that came from nights spent awake long after everyone else had gone to sleep.

How long had he looked like this?

How long had something been weighing on him?

And why was Hirose only noticing now?

The thought left an uncomfortable weight in his chest. Nakamura sat only a few rows away from him every day. They saw each other constantly. Hirose prided himself on noticing when his friends were upset, on being someone people could rely on. Yet somehow, while he'd been busy worrying about whether Nakamura was avoiding him, he'd completely missed the fact that something was genuinely wrong.

"Um..." Hirose swallowed, suddenly unsure of himself. "Nakamura?"

For a brief moment, neither of them moved.

Nakamura stared down at him. Not one of the fleeting looks Hirose had been desperately trying to catch all week. Their eyes met and stayed there.

It was the first real eye contact they'd shared in days.

"Nakamura?" He tried again.

The taller boy's eyes widened slightly. There was something there Hirose couldn't quite place—shock, fear, embarrassment, maybe all three.

Instead of answering, Nakamura's expression crumpled into panic. Then, without warning, he shot to his feet.

His chair screeched violently against the floor, the harsh sound cutting through the classroom chatter. Several nearby students jumped and turned to look, startled by the sudden noise.

Nakamura didn't seem to notice.

Or maybe he didn't care.

His movements were rushed and clumsy as he grabbed his bag from the desk. The strap nearly slipped from his fingers before he managed to sling it over his shoulder.

Before Hirose could say another word, Nakamura turned and hurried toward the door.

"Wait—"

Too late.

The crowd swallowed him almost immediately.

Students were already pouring into the hallway now that classes had ended, filling every available space with chatter, laughter, and the rustling of bags.

Something was wrong.

Seriously wrong.

His fingers tightened around the octopus pen until the plastic dug into his palm, determination quickly replaced the confusion swirling inside him.

No.

He wasn't letting Nakamura disappear again.

He sprang to his feet so quickly he nearly hit his head on the bottom of the desk. Grabbing his bag, he slung it over his shoulder and hurried toward the door, weaving through classmates who were still packing up their things.

"Nakamura! Hey, wait!"

The call left his mouth before he could think twice about it.

He had barely taken three steps into the hallway when someone grabbed the back of his uniform jacket.

"Hirose!"

The sudden tug nearly threw him off balance. Suddenly, standing in front of him was Takeuchi grinning at him, with Mukai and Oomori standing nearby.

"There you are," Takeuchi said. "We've been looking for you."

"Looking for me?" Hirose glanced past them. Down the hall, he could still see the top of Nakamura's dark head moving through the crowd. "I kind of need to—"

"Did you hear what happened in gym today?" Mukai interrupted, already stepping closer. "Takeuchi got hit right in the face."

"I did not get hit in the face," Takeuchi insisted, folding his arms across his chest.

"You absolutely did," Mukai shot back immediately, his eyes looking as unimpressed as always while his smile held a teasing tilt.

"It grazed me."

"It left a mark." Mukai flicked Takeuchi's forehead, making the other boy yell out in pain.

Oomori laughed, shaking his head. "It really did."

Normally Hirose would've laughed too. Normally he would've stopped and listened to whatever ridiculous argument his friends had gotten themselves into.

Instead, his eyes kept drifting over their shoulders toward the end of the hallway.

Nakamura was getting farther away. Every second he spent standing here was another second Nakamura could disappear.

"Guys, sorry, but I really need to go," Hirose said, already trying to step around them.

"Wait, wait," Takeuchi said, reaching out and grabbing his sleeve before he could escape. "You never answered my message yesterday."

Hirose forced a smile. "I'll answer it later."

"Later when?" Takeuchi pressed.

"I don't know, later!" Hirose replied, finally tugging his sleeve free.

Beyond them, Nakamura reached the stairwell.

No.

Not again.

"Nakamura!"

Hirose's voice rang through the hallway, louder than he intended. Conversations faltered around him. Heads turned. A teacher standing in a nearby classroom doorway glanced up in surprise as students looked between the two boys, curious about the sudden outburst.

Hirose didn't care.

Ahead of him, Nakamura stopped.

For a brief moment, he remained frozen among the sea of moving students. Then, slowly, he turned around.

The hallway continued to buzz with noise, but Hirose barely heard any of it.

All he could see was Nakamura.

Then Hirose pushed through the crowd and closed the distance between them in a few quick strides.

Before Nakamura could turn away again, before he could disappear into the mass of students surrounding them, Hirose reached out and grabbed his wrist. The taller boy visibly tensed beneath his grip, his eyes widening in surprise.

"We need to talk."

Nakamura didn't resist when Hirose guided him away from the crowd.

The hallway buzzed with the usual after-school chaos around them. Students streamed toward the stairwells in noisy groups, laughing and chatting about weekend plans. A teacher called after someone for running.

Yet somehow all of it seemed distant.

Hirose didn't stop until they reached a quieter section of the building near an unused classroom. The noise of the crowd faded into a dull murmur behind them, swallowed by the stillness of the empty corridor. Only then did he release Nakamura's wrist.

The taller boy immediately folded into himself. His shoulders hunched, his gaze dropping to the floor, and the hand Hirose had been holding drifted toward his chest as though he could still feel the lingering warmth there.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Hirose had spent days imagining this conversation, rehearsing questions and explanations in his head. Now that he was finally here, standing in front of Nakamura with no one else around, he had no idea where to begin.

"Nakamura..."

The boy visibly flinched, not from fear but something closer to guilt. The sight made something twist painfully inside Hirose's chest.

"Can you tell me what's been going on? I've been trying to reach you all week."

Nakamura's feet shifted on the floor, his gaze on Hirose's shoes.

"I..."

His voice cracked immediately, the sound catching somewhere deep in his throat before it could fully form. The single syllable barely escaped him at all. As soon as it did, he lowered his head even further, dark hair falling forward to shield his face.

Hirose froze.

Up close, there was no mistaking it anymore.

The redness around Nakamura's eyes wasn't from a bad night's sleep or a rough morning. It looked raw, lingering, the kind left behind after crying for far longer than anyone should. The shadows beneath them stood out starkly against his pale skin. He looked exhausted.

Not physically exhausted.

Worn down, as though something had been grinding away at him for days.

He thought back to every glimpse he'd caught of Nakamura that week—the hurried exits, the lowered gaze, the way he'd seemed to disappear whenever Hirose got close enough to reach him. At the time it had only left him confused. Standing here now, seeing him like this, confusion gave way to something heavier.

His voice softened despite himself.

He hadn't meant for it to.

A week ago, he might have pushed harder, demanded answers, tried to understand what was going on. But standing here now, looking at the exhaustion written across Nakamura's face, all he could think about was how tired he looked. How alone.

He settled on, "Take your time..."

The reaction was immediate.

Nakamura's expression crumpled—not dramatically, not all at once, but enough for Hirose to see how desperately he'd been holding himself together. His eyes glossed over, his grip tightening around the strap of his bag as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.

"I'm sorry."

The apology came out strangled.

Hirose stared at him, eyes wide. "For what?"

Nakamura swallowed hard. "I'm sorry." He repeated, shame spreading across his face, his shoulders trembling.

The sight sent a sharp ache through Hirose's chest. He had spent days wondering if Nakamura was angry with him, avoiding him on purpose, regretting something. This was the last thing he had expected.

He stepped closer. "What are you apologizing for? Did something happen?"

Nakamura opened his mouth, but no words came out. His gaze remained fixed on the floor between them.

The silence dragged on.

Hirose waited, then waited longer, watching the struggle play out across Nakamura's face. It slowly dawned on him that Nakamura wasn't refusing to answer. He genuinely didn't know how.

The realization hurt more than any explanation could have.

"Look at me," Hirose said , voice lowering into just above a whisper. "Please."

After a moment, Nakamura lifted his head. His eyes were already wet, though the struggle to hold the tears there was evident.

Hirose felt his stomach drop.

"Did I do something?" he asked, feeling a rush over his body, shame, guilt, he couldn't be sure. "Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because if I did, just tell me. I'd rather know than keep doing it and hurt you worse."

The panic that flashed across Nakamura's face was immediate.

"No!" His hands flew up instinctively, flustered and uncoordinated in the familiar way they always did whenever he panicked.

The response was so immediate and earnest that Hirose nearly lost his footing trying to duck from his arms.

"If not me, then what?"

Nakamura shook his head hard. "No. It's... It's not you." His voice cracked. "You didn't do anything."

Slowly, Hirose tilted his head back slightly so he could meet Nakamura's eyes.

"You've been avoiding me all week."

The words came out harsher than Hirose intended.

Nakamura immediately looked devastated.

His eyes widened before he dropped his gaze again. One hand came up to rub hastily at his eyes, as if he could wipe away the tears threatening to spill over.

"I wasn't—I wasn't trying to—"

His voice caught.

Without thinking, Hirose reached out, his hand hovering uncertainly near Nakamura's shoulder. He hesitated for a second before resting it there gently.

"Hey," he said quietly. "It's okay."

Nakamura's breath trembled.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The sounds of the school drifted faintly through the hallway, distant and muffled.

Hirose could feel how tense he was beneath his hand.

"You don't have to panic," he added, searching Nakamura's face. "Just... talk to me."

Nakamura rubbed at his eyes again, looking miserable.

"I just--- I-I didn't know how to---"

His words tangled together, tripping over one another in his haste to explain. Another apology seemed to rise to his lips before he swallowed it back down.

Hirose stared at him for a moment. Then something clicked.

Nakamura wasn't angry. He wasn't annoyed. If anything, he looked horrified that Hirose might think he was. The knot that had been sitting in Hirose's chest all week loosened slightly.

"Then tell me what's going on," he said, softer now. "Please."

Nakamura squeezed his eyes shut.

For a moment, Hirose thought he might refuse to answer. Thought he might apologize again and run.

Instead, he let out a shaky breath.

"It's... me."

Hirose frowned. "What do you mean?"

A weak laugh escaped Nakamura. It sounded miserable, like he couldn't believe he was saying any of this out loud.

"I don't know," he admitted. He stared down at the floor between them for a moment. "I really don't."

Hirose waited for him, eyes flicking from his eyes, his mouth, his eyebrows, anything to gauge his thoughts.

"I just..." His voice faltered. "I just got stuck in my own head, I guess."

The words seemed difficult to force out. For a second it looked like he might retreat completely, pull the walls back up and hide behind another apology.

Instead, he took another shaky breath and kept going.

"I don't really like Valentine's Day very much."

The confession was so unexpected that Hirose blinked.

"...That's what this is about?" He realized soon after how rude that had sounded, cheeks turning red.

Immediately Nakamura looked embarrassed.His face reddened more, if that were physically possible at this rate. The taller boy looked about ready to burst, which twisted something deep in Hirose’s core.  If this weren’t so anxiety inducing, he could even say he was adorable like this.

He will have to unpack that later.

"I know it sounds stupid."

"No, that's not—"

"I'm sorry." The apology slipped out automatically, like he owed Hirose something.

Hirose stared at him for a second before letting out a frustrated breath.

"Nakamura..."

The boy's shoulders tensed.

"I didn't mean it like that," Hirose said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just thought... I don't know. I thought something really bad had happened."

Nakamura's fingers tightened around his bag strap. For a moment he didn't answer, his gaze fixed somewhere near the floor. Then a weak laugh escaped him, hollow and humorless, as though he couldn't quite believe the situation himself.

"It feels stupid now."

"It doesn't." Hirose stated quickly. He was going to shut down every last attempt he made at downplaying this.

"It does." Nakamura shook his head. "Everyone else seemed fine. They were having fun and giving chocolates and..." He trailed off, eyes dropping back to the floor. "I don't know. I just got overwhelmed, it's all so silly."

Hirose watched him carefully.

"You got overwhelmed?"

Nakamura nodded.

"A little."

"A little?" Hirose repeated, unconvinced. His hand reached up and squeezed Nakamura's shoulder before sliding down to rest lightly on his upper arm. "Somehow I don't think that's true."

That earned a weak laugh. It slipped out before Nakamura could stop it, quiet and breathless.

"Okay," he admitted, ducking his head. "Maybe more than a little."

The sound eased something in Hirose's chest. At least he was talking now. At least he wasn't trying to run away.

Still, it felt like there was more to it than that.

Not because Nakamura was lying. If anything, he looked painfully honest. It was more like he was struggling to untangle something that didn't make sense even to himself.

Nakamura swallowed hard and stared at the floor. "I know it sounds stupid. It is stupid." He let out a weak, humorless laugh. "The thing is... it never used to bother me. Not really." His shoulders drew in slightly. "But this year..." He trailed off, struggling for the words. "I saw something. And ever since then, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. "I don't know how to explain it without sounding ridiculous."

"You don't sound ridiculous."

"I kind of do."

"You don't."

The certainty in Hirose's voice made Nakamura visibly swallow.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Then Hirose sighed and dropped his hand from Nakamura's shoulder. "Sorry. I just..." He looked away briefly before meeting Nakamura's eyes again. "You disappeared for two days."

Nakamura's shoulders immediately drooped, as though the weight he'd been carrying had suddenly become impossible to hide.

"I know," he said quietly.

The hallway beyond them had grown quieter as more students filtered out of the building. The distant sounds of voices and footsteps echoed faintly through the corridor, but neither of them paid much attention. Hirose couldn't stop looking at him. Up close, Nakamura looked exhausted. The shadows beneath his eyes stood out against his pale skin, and there was a tension in his posture that made him seem smaller than usual.

"I thought something happened." The words slipped out before Hirose could stop them.

For a moment, Nakamura simply stared at him, lips parted and brows raised in surprise, the expression raw.

Hirose rubbed the back of his neck and looked away for a second before forcing himself to continue.

"You weren't answering anyone. Every time I saw you, you looked like you hadn't slept. Then you'd disappear before I could talk to you." He frowned. "You looked awful, Nakamura."

A faint, embarrassed smile flickered across Nakamura's face.

"Sorry."

Hirose let out a breath through his nose.

"That's not what I meant."

The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

"I know."

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Nakamura's gaze remained fixed somewhere near his shoes, jaw tense. He seemed to be searching for the right words and finding none.

"I just..." He swallowed. "I wasn't feeling very good."

Nakamura lowered his gaze to the floor between them, staring at the scuffed linoleum as though the answer might be written somewhere in the faded marks left by years of students passing through.

For a moment, it seemed like he might stop there. His throat worked around words he couldn't quite force out, and Hirose could see him retreating into himself again, slipping behind the walls he'd spent the last week hiding behind.

Instead, he drew in a shaky breath.

"Valentine's Day just..." His voice faltered, catching halfway through the sentence. He swallowed hard before trying again. "It hit me harder this year."

Hirose frowned slightly but stayed quiet. He didn't understand yet, but he could tell this was difficult for Nakamura to say. Interrupting felt wrong.

Nakamura's fingers tightened around the strap of his bag until his knuckles turned pale.

"I realized something."

The words came out small, almost swallowed by the silence around them.

"And I couldn't stop thinking about it."

His eyes glossed over again. The tears seemed to arrive before he could stop them, gathering along his lashes despite the effort he was making to stay composed.

"It wasn't anyone else's fault. Nothing happened." A weak laugh escaped him, brittle and humorless. He wiped quickly at his face before another tear could fall. "I just found out there are some things you can't really do anything about."

The words settled heavily between them.

Hirose's chest tightened. There was something painfully resigned in the way Nakamura said it, like he'd spent days arguing with himself only to arrive at a conclusion he never wanted to accept.

Nakamura looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

"I kept thinking about it over and over," he admitted quietly. "Every time I thought I was done, I'd start again. I'd tell myself to stop being ridiculous, then I'd think about it some more."

His voice trembled, "Then I felt stupid for being upset. Then I felt stupid for not being able to stop being upset." He let out another weak laugh and shook his head. "After a while, I didn't even know how to talk to anyone anymore."

His shoulders slumped.

"It's embarrassing."

Hirose stared at him.

That was it?

Not that it sounded small. If anything, Nakamura looked miserable just admitting it. But Hirose had spent days imagining every possible explanation, and somehow the truth felt simpler and sadder than any of them.

For a moment, Hirose simply watched him.

Past the lowered gaze, the hunched shoulders, and every awkward attempt to hide what he was feeling.

His hair was more tousled than usual, as though he'd spent days running his hands through it. His skin looked pale beneath the fluorescent lights, and there was a tightness between his brows that never seemed to ease. Even now, standing in front of him, Nakamura looked uncertain, like he was waiting for permission to take up space.

"I wish I had known."

Nakamura's breath caught. His eyes lifted slightly, glossy with tears.

Hirose rubbed the back of his neck, struggling to put the feeling into words. "I didn't know what was going on," he admitted. "I just knew something was wrong."

For a moment, Nakamura just stared at him. The hallway seemed to fall away. Whatever excuse he'd been trying to hold onto vanished from his face, leaving only raw surprise. As though of all the things Hirose could have said, that was the one thing he hadn't prepared himself to hear.

Then a small, broken sound escaped him, caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob. His head dropped immediately, tears dripping from his face onto the floor.

As if being worried about was somehow harder to bear than being hurt.

"I know it's stupid," he whispered, and the words landed with a weight that made Hirose's chest ache. They sounded worn thin from repetition, like something Nakamura had been telling himself over and over until he almost believed it. His shoulders trembled once. "I know."

"It's not."

Nakamura shook his head, soft sobs and hiccups wracking his frame, each one landing in Hirose's chest like a gunshot.

"It is. You don't understand."

Nakamura wiped hastily at his eyes, only making things worse. He let out a shaky laugh that sounded more exhausted than amused and looked away, embarrassed by his own reaction.

"I think I just needed some time," he admitted quietly. "To figure it all out."

"Well, you keep saying it, but it doesn't sound stupid to me."

"It kind of is." Nakamura rubbed at his face again, looking embarrassed. His gaze dropped to the floor. "Not Valentine's Day itself." He hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. "Just..." The word trailed off. "Something happened, I guess." A small, self-conscious smile flickered across his face before disappearing. 

"It's silly. Why am I upset over something I knew I'd never have?" He shook his head. "I thought if I gave it a little time, it'd stop bothering me."

His grip tightened further.

"It wasn't even that big of a deal." The words came out quieter. "I just... couldn't stop thinking about it." He let out a weak laugh, frustrated with himself. "The more I tried not to, the worse it got."

Nakamura stared at the floor for a moment.

"I kept telling myself I was overreacting." His voice softened. "But every time I thought about it, I felt..." He faltered, struggling to find the right word. "I don't know. Upset, I guess."

The admission seemed to embarrass him even more.

"So I figured if I stayed away for a little while, I'd get over it." He swallowed. "Instead I just ended up feeling worse."

Hirose frowned. "You don't have to disappear every time something's bothering you."

Nakamura's shoulders tensed. "I know."

"No, I mean it." Hirose hesitated, searching for the right words. "You don't have to handle everything on your own."

For a moment, Nakamura couldn't look at him.

The concern in Hirose's voice felt almost unbearable. There was no frustration in it now, no demand for an explanation. Just worry. Genuine, uncomplicated worry.

"I didn't want to bother anyone," Nakamura said at last.

Hirose hesitated. For a moment, it looked like he was about to reach for Nakamura's hand, but he stopped himself, letting it fall back to his side instead.

He let out a quiet sigh. "You're not bothering me." His voice softened. "Honestly, I've been looking forward to talking to you all week."

Nakamura felt his throat tighten again, tears threatening despite his efforts to keep them under control. He'd spent days convincing himself that keeping his distance was the right thing to do, that it would be easier for everyone if he sorted himself out alone.

Yet Hirose had noticed anyway.

Now he stood here without judgment, giving Nakamura the space to be honest even when he couldn't explain everything. For the first time in days, Nakamura stopped trying so hard to hold himself together. The sob that escaped him sounded exhausted.

Before he could think better of it, Hirose stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

Nakamura froze for one brief second, every muscle in his body locking up in surprise. Then the tension drained out of him all at once, and his fingers curled weakly into the fabric at Hirose's back as another shudder ran through him. Hirose tightened his arms instinctively, feeling how badly Nakamura was shaking.

"It's okay," he murmured.

Nakamura buried his face against his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a moment, tucked away in their quiet corner of the hallway while the sounds of the school carried on around them. Students laughed somewhere in the distance. A classroom door slid shut. Footsteps echoed past and faded away.

None of it seemed to matter.

"You don't have to carry everything yourself," Hirose said softly. "We're friends, remember?"

Nakamura nodded against his shoulder. A tiny movement that assured Hirose he was listening.

"So rely on me sometimes."

Nakamura nodded again, a little more firmly this time, though he still didn’t pull away. His breathing was uneven, but it was starting to slow, like the weight in his chest had finally found somewhere to land instead of just circling endlessly. Hirose didn’t rush him. He just stayed there, arms steady, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I’m sorry,” Nakamura said again, quieter this time, the words muffled slightly against Hirose’s shoulder.

Hirose let out a short breath, half a laugh and half disbelief. “You really need to stop apologizing for everything.”

That earned a small, shaky sound from Nakamura that might’ve been a laugh if it had more strength behind it. He finally loosened his grip slightly, though he didn’t fully let go. When he pulled back just enough to look at Hirose, his eyes were still red, but less panicked now, more tired than anything else.

“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he admitted.

“You didn’t make me worry,” Hirose said immediately, then paused, correcting himself with a softer voice. “Okay, I mean… I was worried. But not in a bad way. Just… I didn’t know what was happening.”

Nakamura stared at him for a moment like he was trying to process that, like it didn’t quite fit with the version of events he’d built up in his head. His fingers tightened slightly on Hirose’s sleeve again, grounding himself there.

“I thought…” he started, then stopped. His throat worked around the rest of it before he gave up on the sentence entirely and shook his head. “Never mind.”

Hirose didn’t push. He just tilted his head a little. “Hey.”

Nakamura hesitated.

“…Next time you want to disappear, let me tag along,” Hirose said, smiling up at the taller boy, giggling in a way that left no room for misunderstanding. “If something’s bothering you, just tell me, I’ll find somewhere to go. Might not be as good as the aquarium though.”

For a second, Nakamura looked like he might cry again, but it didn’t spill over this time. He just nodded, slower now, more deliberate.

“Okay,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips, one that stayed.

A pause settled between them, quieter than before. Not uncomfortable. Just full in a different way, like something had finally stopped being avoided and was now sitting plainly in the open.

Then Hirose rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how close they still were, and gave a small awkward exhale.

“And… next time,” he added, trying for lightness, “maybe don’t make me think you’ve been kidnapped or something.”

That finally got a real reaction out of Nakamura. A weak, embarrassed laugh slipped through before he could stop it, and he immediately looked away like he regretted being capable of it.

“I’m sorry…”

“There it is again.”

Nakamura flinched slightly at the teasing, but it wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t avoidance anymore either. It was just him, slowly coming back into himself.

After a moment, Hirose shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and glanced down the hallway. The school had started to quiet down, the rush of after-school noise thinning into scattered footsteps and distant voices.

“Hey,” he said again, a little more casual now. “You going home?”

Nakamura blinked at him like he hadn’t considered the question yet. Then he nodded quickly. “Yeah.”

A beat passed.

Hirose nodded once, then started walking. “Then let’s go.”

Nakamura hesitated for half a second before falling into step beside him.

They didn’t talk immediately. Not at first. The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore, just settling, like both of them were still figuring out how to exist after everything that had been said. Nakamura kept his gaze lowered, but not all the way to the floor this time. Every so often, he glanced sideways like he wanted to say something and couldn’t decide how.

Eventually, as they reached the stairwell, Hirose slowed without really meaning to.

Wait.

Something clicked in his head so suddenly it almost made him stop mid-step.

“…Oh,” he muttered.

Nakamura turned slightly. “Hm?”

Hirose stared at him for a second, then blinked like he’d just remembered something important he’d been carrying around for days without realizing it.

“Right,” he said, voice lifting a little. “I was supposed to get your LINE.”

Nakamura froze.

That reaction alone would’ve made Hirose laugh under normal circumstances, but instead he just looked more focused, like the whole situation had suddenly become very serious in a way only he understood.

“Seriously,” Hirose added, already reaching into his pocket. “I completely forgot. I’ve been meaning to ask you for like—” he paused, thinking back, “forever.”

Nakamura’s ears went red again, but he didn’t move away this time.

“…You were?” he asked carefully.

“Yeah,” Hirose said immediately, like it was obvious. Then, a second later, his expression brightened even more. “Actually, this is perfect.”

Nakamura blinked.

Hirose looked at him with a sudden, earnest intensity that made him stiffen again for a completely different reason.

“So you can text me when you feel down!” he said, like it was the most natural conclusion in the world.

Silence.

Nakamura’s brain visibly stalled.

“…Huh?”

“Yeah,” Hirose continued, already pulling out his phone properly now, thumb flicking open the app with practiced ease. “Like, instead of disappearing for two days and making me think something horrible happened, you can just say something. Anything. Even just ‘I’m not okay today’ is fine.”

Nakamura stared at him like he’d said something impossible.

“That’s…” he started, then stopped.

Hirose tilted his head. “What?”

Nakamura shook his head quickly. “Nothing. I just—” His voice wobbled a little. “I didn’t think you’d want that.”

Hirose paused mid-scroll, then looked up at him properly.

“…Why wouldn’t I?”

That question landed heavier than it should have.

Nakamura didn’t answer right away.

Eventually, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, Hirose held his phone out a little, like he was offering something completely normal and not quietly reshaping how Nakamura had been thinking about everything for the past week.

They slowed near the stairwell as Nakamura finally fumbled his own phone out, slightly too quickly, like he was afraid hesitation might make the moment vanish. Their screens lit up in the dim hallway light, casting a faint glow across their hands.

It only took a few seconds.

When it was done, Nakamura held his phone a little tighter than necessary, staring down at it like it had become something fragile.

Hirose glanced at him, then let out a small breath, satisfied in a way that felt oddly final.

“Great,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “Got it.”

Then, like it was the most obvious next step in the world, he added, “So we’re good now.”

Nakamura’s fingers tightened slightly around his phone.

“…Good?” he echoed.

“Yeah.” Hirose nodded once, then jerked his head toward the hallway. “Let’s go.”

He started walking before Nakamura could overthink it.

For a second, Nakamura just stood there.

Then, quietly, he followed.

—

Walking home with Nakamura was surprisingly easy.

Not because they talked the whole way. In fact, there were long stretches where neither of them said much at all. The silence never felt awkward, though. It settled comfortably between them, interrupted only by the occasional comment about something they passed or one of Nakamura's quiet observations that seemed to come from nowhere.

Hirose had forgotten what a relief that could be.

Lately, every walk home seemed to come with something attached to it. Hana wanted to stop by a store. Takeuchi needed feedback on whatever latest strategy he was convinced would finally make Hamaoka fall in love with him. Oomori was usually worried about some assignment, project, or deadline and determined to make it everyone else's problem too.

Not that Hirose minded.

He liked helping people.

Still, walking beside Nakamura felt different.

There were no expectations. No pressure to entertain anyone. No obligation to fill every silence before it could settle. Nakamura seemed perfectly content just being there.

Every now and then he'd drift off into his own thoughts for several minutes at a time before suddenly remembering something and speaking up. Usually it was something strange. An interesting fact. An observation about a dog they'd passed. Once, for reasons Hirose couldn't begin to understand, he launched into a brief explanation about how octopuses could recognize individual humans.

The sudden burst of enthusiasm caught Hirose off guard enough to make him laugh.

Immediately, Nakamura turned red.

Then, seeing Hirose still smiling, he laughed too.

It was a small sound, brief enough that Hirose almost missed it, but it lingered anyway. For some reason he found himself smiling long after the conversation had moved on.

The afternoon sunlight painted everything gold as they walked. The lingering chill of winter had finally begun to retreat, leaving behind the first hints of spring in the air. The streets felt brighter than they had all week. Or maybe that was just him.

By the time they reached the familiar intersection where their routes split apart, Hirose was startled by how quickly the walk had passed. Nakamura slowed beside his bike, fingers resting lightly on the handlebars.

"Um..." He glanced up. "See you tomorrow."

Hirose grinned.

"Yeah."

Nakamura gave a small wave.

Hirose returned it with his entire arm.

"See you tomorrow, Nakamura!"

The laugh that escaped him came easily as he turned and started down his own street. Behind him, he caught a glimpse of Nakamura smiling before the other boy mounted his bike and headed off in the opposite direction.

The sight followed Hirose all the way home.

Nakamura wasn't mad at him.

The realization settled warmly in his chest, easing a tension he hadn't fully realized he'd been carrying. What a relief.

As he jogged the last stretch toward his house, another thought surfaced unexpectedly. Valentine's Day. The empty shoe locker. The chocolates Nakamura never received.

Hirose slowed slightly.

Maybe he should get him something.

Not because he had to. Not because Nakamura expected it. Just because.

The idea felt strangely right. By the time he reached his front door, he was already wondering what kind of chocolate Nakamura liked.

Hirose slowed slightly, watching his breath curl white against the lingering chilly air.

Maybe he should get him something. 

—

“I think we should break up.”

Hana pulled him aside just after he had slid his shoes into his locker and stepped into his indoor ones. The hallway behind them was already filling with morning noise, students drifting past without noticing the way the air had just shifted between them.

Hirose blinked at her.

“…Huh?”

He hadn’t expected it. Not really. The words didn’t land sharply either. If anything, they arrived oddly soft, like they were supposed to hurt more than they did. He stared at her for a second, searching her face for a joke, but Hana only smiled gently, hands clasped neatly in front of her skirt.

“I’m not mad,” she said quietly.

That made him pause.

“Oh…” he murmured, slower now. “Then… why?”

His brows knit slightly, concern slipping in before anything else. “Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Hana shook her head immediately.

“No.” Her voice stayed soft, but there was something sad tucked underneath it. “You didn’t hurt me.”

A small exhale left her, like she’d been holding that answer for a while.

“I just know you aren’t happy,” she said. “Not with me, anyway.”

“…Oh.”

The realization didn’t sting the way it probably should’ve. Instead, it settled like something loosening inside his chest, a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying suddenly easing its grip. He just… stood there, unsure what to do with that feeling.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” Hana interrupted gently, though it came out more tired than teasing. She gave a small, fleeting laugh, then let it fade. “You always do that.”

Hirose opened his mouth, then closed it again. Hana tilted her head slightly, studying him like she was trying to confirm something she already knew.

“You smile all the time,” she said. “But it’s getting harder to tell when you actually mean it.”

Hirose stiffened at that. Her gaze drifted past him for just a moment, casual, almost absent, and without thinking, he turned.

Nakamura was there, switching his shoes and adjusting his bag as it slipped slightly off his shoulder, completely unaware.

Something in Hirose’s chest jumped so sharply it almost knocked the breath out of him. He snapped his attention back to Hana at once.

“W-wait—that’s not—”

His hands came up instinctively, as though he could physically push the misunderstanding away. “Hana, you’ve got the wrong idea. I mean, it’s not like that—”

The words spilled out too quickly, tangled and clumsy. Yet even as he spoke them, the certainty behind them began to crumble. His voice weakened, caught on something he had been avoiding for far too long.

Because beneath the embarrassment, beneath the panic of being seen so clearly, another realization surfaced.

A simple one.

He makes me feel happy.

The thought settled into him with startling ease. Not like a revelation, but like something that had always been there, quietly waiting for him to stop looking away.

Hana studied him for a moment, and the smile that touched her lips wasn't bitter or hurt. If anything, it was gentle.

“It’s been a while since that day he ignored you,” she said softly. “You’ve been different ever since. Honestly... it was kind of obvious.”

“H-Hana...” Heat rushed to his face.

She gave a small shake of her head and lifted a hand, stopping whatever apology or denial he was about to throw at her next. There was no accusation in her expression, only a quiet acceptance that somehow made Hirose feel even more exposed.

Then she bowed.

A proper, respectful bow.

For a brief moment, the sounds of the hallway seemed to fade into the background—the chatter of students, the scrape of shoes against the floor, the distant slam of a classroom door. Everything narrowed to the girl standing in front of him.

“Hirose Aiki,” she said, her voice steady despite the faint sadness lingering beneath it, “thank you for being my boyfriend. It was really fun.”

When she straightened, her smile remained.

“But we’re over.”

The words landed softly.

Not because they lacked meaning, but because neither of them needed to fight them anymore.

She turned and began walking away. A breeze drifted through the corridor from an open window somewhere nearby, stirring the ends of her hair as she disappeared into the flow of students. It felt strangely cinematic, the kind of scene people remembered years later, except all Hirose could think about was the unexpected lightness spreading through his chest.

He watched until she was gone.

Then, before he could stop himself, a laugh escaped him.

It wasn't loud or triumphant. Just a quiet breath of sound, filled with disbelief and relief in equal measure.

What a relief...

His shoulders eased as the feeling settled in fully.

It spread through him slowly, warm and unfamiliar, loosening knots he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying. The tension that had sat in his chest for weeks seemed to melt away all at once, leaving behind a strange, almost dizzying sense of relief.

A tear slipped down his cheek before he noticed it.

The hallway around him continued as normal—students chatting, lockers opening and closing, shoes scraping against the floor—but the sounds felt distant, muffled beneath the rush of emotions flooding through him.

He didn't wipe the tear away. He just stood there, staring at the spot where Hana had disappeared around the corner.

He didn't feel heartbroken. He didn't feel abandoned. If anything, the strongest thing he felt was guilt—guilt for the way relief flooded through him so quickly, so completely.

He should have been sad, shouldn't he? Hana had been kind to him. She had cared about him. She deserved more than someone standing here feeling like a weight had just been lifted from his chest.

But no matter how hard he searched for grief, all he found was that strange, overwhelming lightness.

His shoulders loosened. The knot that had been sitting somewhere deep inside him for weeks seemed to unravel all at once. Air filled his lungs easier than it had in days, and he hadn't even realized he'd been struggling to breathe until now.

Just... lighter.

Like he could finally breathe, he could finally stop pretending to be someone he wasn't.

“H-Hirose?!”

Startled, Hirose blinked and turned. The blurred hallway slowly came back into focus, and there, standing right in front of him, was Nakamura.

His bag hung awkwardly from one shoulder as though he'd rushed over without thinking. His breathing was uneven. His eyes were wide with alarm.

“Hirose, what’s wrong?!”

Before Hirose could even answer, Nakamura closed the distance between them and caught hold of his arm.

The gesture was so immediate, so instinctive, that it stole the breath from his lungs.

For a heartbeat, the noise of the hallway seemed to recede into the background.

All Hirose could see was Nakamura.

The crease between his brows. The worry written openly across his face. The way his hand tightened slightly, as if afraid Hirose might slip away if he let go.

There was no hesitation in him. No awkward uncertainty. The moment he had seen Hirose standing there with tears in his eyes, he had come running.

For a second, the hallway noise seemed to fade into the distance. All of it blurring into something indistinct as Hirose found himself staring at Nakamura.

Really staring.

His morning had been miserable. The conversation with Hana still lingered in his chest, awkward and painful and strangely relieving all at once. His emotions felt scraped raw, stretched thin from trying to understand what he was feeling.

And yet, the moment Nakamura looked at him, everything shifted.

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about him at first glance. His uniform was slightly rumpled as always, his hair stubbornly refusing to stay perfectly neat, his bag hanging awkwardly from one shoulder as though he had thrown it on without thinking. If Hirose had been asked to describe him a few months ago, he probably would have called him ordinary.

But standing there now, with panic written plainly across his face and his eyes fixed entirely on Hirose, Nakamura seemed impossibly bright.

The thought came to him before he could stop it.

Radiant.

Not in the dramatic way people described movie stars or idols. It was something quieter than that, something harder to explain. Like moonlight spilling across a dark room after a sleepless night—gentle, steady, and somehow enough to make everything feel a little less lonely. Hirose found himself staring, caught off guard by the simple sincerity in front of him.

Nakamura's dark eyes were wide with worry. There was no mask there, no attempt to hide what he was feeling, no careful distance. Everything was laid bare. The second he had seen Hirose crying, he had come running without hesitation, as though nothing else mattered.

For me.

The realization struck harder than Hana's confession ever had. It slipped past every excuse Hirose might have made for it, sinking deeper and deeper until it reached a place inside him that had no defenses left. Seeing him cry had frightened Nakamura. The thought was so simple, so ordinary on the surface, and yet it made his chest ache in a way he couldn't remember feeling before.

Of realizing that someone had been watching him all this time and had somehow decided he was worth worrying about. Worth running after through crowded hallways. Worth pulling into an empty classroom just to make sure he was okay.

The feeling expanded inside him until it seemed to fill every corner of his chest, warm and painful all at once. His vision blurred further, tears gathering despite himself, and through the haze Nakamura only seemed brighter somehow, standing there in the morning light as if Hirose were seeing him clearly for the very first time.

Hirose thought about all the mornings he'd spent searching for him without realizing it. All the times he'd looked across a classroom and felt relieved when he spotted him. All the moments that had felt strangely empty when Nakamura wasn't nearby.

A breathless laugh slipped from him, fragile and uneven, carrying more disbelief than amusement. The sound only seemed to deepen the worry on Nakamura's face. His brows drew together immediately, and he stepped closer without hesitation, as though the sight of Hirose standing there with tears in his eyes was enough to pull him forward on instinct alone.

“H-Hirose?” he asked again, his voice softer now, careful and gentle in a way that made Hirose's chest ache. “Did something happen?”

The concern in his eyes was unbearable.

Hirose lowered his gaze, trying to sort through the storm inside him, but every feeling seemed hopelessly tangled together. Relief and embarrassment twisted around each other. Happiness pressed against confusion. There was still the faint ache of saying goodbye to Hana, but it was drowned beneath something far stronger—the overwhelming realization of who he had been searching for all along.

And standing right in front of him was the answer.

The person who had somehow become the center of every thought without Hirose noticing. The person who had made him angry, worried, restless, and inexplicably happy. The person who was looking at him now with such naked concern that it felt as though nothing else in the world mattered except whether he was alright.

How had he missed something so obvious?

When he finally spoke, the words escaped before he could catch them.

“I want to disappear…”

The confession left him in a quiet breath, so small it almost vanished beneath the distant noise of the hallway. Yet once it was spoken, he couldn't take it back. It hung between them, raw and vulnerable, carrying all the embarrassment, relief, confusion, and overwhelming emotion he didn't know how to put into words. In that moment, he truly wanted the floor to open beneath him and spare him from having to explain any of it.

Nakamura froze.

For a heartbeat, his expression emptied completely.

“Hirose…?”

The words came out small, uncertain.

Hirose looked at him through blurred vision and let out a weak laugh that sounded dangerously close to a sob.

“I want to disappear,” he said quietly.

Hirose's smile trembled at the edges.

The words had slipped out before he could stop them, carried by relief and embarrassment and too many feelings crashing together at once. He hadn't meant them seriously. At least, not in the way they sounded.

But Nakamura's expression changed immediately.

Recognition.

Something in his eyes softened, as though he had been handed something familiar and fragile. He stepped closer without thinking, fingers tightening around Hirose's sleeve for the briefest moment before letting go again.

Hirose saw it then—that quiet understanding settling between them.

The way Nakamura looked at him now was different from everyone else. There was no confusion, no demand for an explanation. Just a steady certainty that made it easier to breathe.

Take me with you.

The plea rose so suddenly it stole the air from his lungs.

For one aching moment, it felt like if he let Nakamura walk away now, something inside him would break beyond repair. Like all the distance, all the missed chances, all the words they had never said would stretch between them again until he couldn't cross it.

His throat tightened around the feeling.

The thought never reached his lips.

It didn't need to.

Nakamura's grip on his arm tightened anyway, and Hirose felt the answer in it before either of them spoke.

Hirose watched it happen in real time. The panic that flashed across Nakamura's face wasn't fear of the words themselves. It wasn't alarm that Hirose wanted to vanish.

Then, without another thought, he reached forward and grabbed Hirose's hand.

The warmth of it startled him.

Their fingers intertwined so naturally that Hirose's heart skipped. It felt less like being pulled somewhere and more like receiving an answer to a question he hadn't known how to ask.

Okay, I'll take you away.

The sudden movement nearly pulled Hirose off balance, but he followed instinctively. Students stepped aside as they hurried through the corridor, morning sunlight flashing across the polished floor in bright bands of gold. Voices blended into distant noise. Footsteps echoed around them. The entire hallway blurred into motion.

“H-Hold on—!”

Hirose stumbled once, and immediately Nakamura's grip tightened—not enough to hurt, just enough to steady him. The gesture was so instinctive, so natural, that it sent a strange warmth through Hirose's chest.

I'm here.

The message was unmistakable.

The realization hit him so suddenly he almost laughed. For so long, every memory of Nakamura leaving had carried the same sting: watching his back disappear, wondering what he'd done wrong, wondering why he couldn't catch up.

But this was different.

His hand remained wrapped around Hirose's as though it belonged there, guiding him through the crowd with an urgency that wasn't panic anymore. It was care. The same earnest, desperate kindness Hirose had seen when Nakamura confessed his feelings and fears a week ago.

Back then, Hirose had offered to go with him.

Now Nakamura was accepting that offer.

The understanding settled warmly inside him, and with it came a happiness so profound it almost hurt. For so long, Hirose had been trying to fit himself into expectations that never felt right. He had smiled when he was supposed to smile, dated when he was supposed to date, followed paths everyone else seemed to understand instinctively.

Yet running through a crowded hallway while holding Nakamura's hand felt more honest than any of it.

The understanding settled over him slowly, sinking past the confusion and surprise until it reached somewhere deep inside his chest.

And when it did, something loosened.

A knot he hadn't even realized he'd been carrying unraveled all at once, leaving behind a strange, aching lightness.

There was no heartbreak waiting for him there.

No grief, no crushing sense of loss, no desperate urge to chase after something that had already slipped away.

What he felt instead was relief.

It settled over him gradually as he ran, lightening a weight he hadn't even realized he had been carrying. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn't struggling alone inside his own feelings. He wasn't forcing himself into a shape that didn't fit or pretending to understand emotions that had never truly belonged to him.

Beside him, Nakamura kept hold of his hand.

Even as they hurried through the halls, weaving around students and turning corners without slowing down, his grip never loosened. It wasn't possessive or demanding. If anything, it felt fragile, as though Nakamura was terrified that the moment he let go, Hirose would vanish and this strange, impossible morning would disappear with him.

That simple fear carried a tenderness Hirose wasn't prepared for.

His eyes stung again, but this time the tears came from something quieter than confusion, guilt, or uncertainty.

Small and still growing, but unmistakably there.

Nakamura understood him.

Not the version of himself he showed everyone else. Not the smiling, agreeable Hirose who always seemed to know what to say. Somehow, Nakamura had seen through all of that and reached the parts of him he had never been able to explain properly.

And somehow, impossibly, that realization made him happier than he had ever been.

By the time they finally stopped running, they had arrived at the same empty classroom as before.

The familiar one.

Morning sunlight spilled through the windows in pale golden bands, illuminating drifting dust and rows of unused desks. The room felt untouched by the noise of the school outside, suspended in its own quiet world.

It was the same place where they had spoken before.

The same place where everything had begun to change.

Morning light poured through the windows, softer than the hallway had been, dust drifting lazily in the beams like it had nowhere else to be. The room felt almost suspended in time.

Hirose wiped at his eyes with his sleeve, still laughing under his breath, like the feeling couldn’t quite decide whether it was crying or joy.

“D-don’t do that,” Nakamura said quickly, stepping closer and catching his hands mid-motion. He lowered them carefully, holding them in place. “You’ll make your eyes all puffy…”

Hirose blinked at him, and the sheer tenderness in Nakamura’s worried expression hit him all at once.

Nakamura was still holding his hands.

He hadn't even realized it.

His fingers were wrapped around Hirose's wrists as if he was afraid letting go would somehow make things worse, his face drawn tight with concern, eyes searching him desperately for an answer. There wasn't a trace of hesitation in it. No embarrassment. No self-consciousness.

Just worry. Pure, earnest worry.

The sight hit Hirose so hard that another laugh slipped out before he could stop it. Nakamura blinked, looking even more confused than before.

“Uh?”

“I’m such an idiot…” Hirose said, smiling helplessly through the tears still sliding down his face.

This time, though, the words carried no self-loathing. If anything, there was something strangely affectionate in them, directed at the version of himself who had spent months circling around the truth, refusing to look directly at feelings that now seemed painfully obvious.

“You aren’t,” Nakamura said immediately, his brows knitting together with quiet determination. “You told me not to say that before.”

The answer came so quickly that Hirose laughed again, softer now, warmth spreading through his chest despite everything.

For a moment Hirose simply stood there looking at him, taking in every familiar detail he'd spent so long pretending wasn't important. The way Nakamura's grip tightened whenever he got nervous. The way his shoulders curled inward when he was uncertain. The way his eyes never seemed able to hide what he was feeling no matter how hard he tried.

“Hana broke up with me,” he said.

The reaction was immediate. Nakamura froze so completely it was almost impressive, every trace of movement leaving him at once as though the words had physically struck him.

“…W-what?!”

“And I’m so happy I could die.”

The confession slipped out before Hirose could soften it or take it back. The silence that followed felt heavy enough to fill the entire classroom. Nakamura simply stared at him, genuinely stared, his mouth parting slightly before closing again. Confusion flashed across his face, followed by alarm, disbelief, and then a bewilderment so complete it almost looked painful.

“…Huh?”

Hirose let out a shaky breath and rubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform. His chest felt strangely light and unbearably tight at the same time.

“I didn't want to date her,” he admitted quietly.

Saying it aloud felt strange. Not because it wasn't true, but because it was. Because now that the words existed outside of his head, there was no hiding from them anymore. No pretending he had been trying his best, no convincing himself that things would eventually feel right if he just waited long enough. The truth sat heavily between them, undeniable and painfully simple. He had never wanted Hana. Not the way he was supposed to. Not the way he wanted the person standing in front of him now.

Because the truth had apparently been sitting inside him the entire time, waiting for him to stop running from it.

“I just said yes because everyone kept saying that's what you're supposed to do.” He let out a small laugh. “That it's fun. That if a cute girl asks you out, you say yes.”

His gaze drifted toward the window for a moment, and the room seemed to quiet around him.

Morning sunlight spilled across the empty desks in long bands of pale gold, catching on the thin veil of dust suspended in the air. The particles drifted lazily through the light, unhurried, as though time itself had slowed inside the classroom. Beyond the glass, he could hear the distant murmur of students moving through the halls, the ordinary rhythm of another school day beginning. It felt strangely far away.

“It wasn't.”

The words left him softly, almost disappearing into the stillness between them.

For a moment, he simply stood there, letting the truth settle.

He thought about all the dates with Hana—the carefully planned outings, the conversations that should have felt exciting, the moments everyone insisted were supposed to be memorable. He remembered smiling when he was expected to smile, laughing when it seemed appropriate, convincing himself that if he kept moving forward long enough, the feeling everyone talked about would eventually arrive.

It never had.

And once he allowed himself to admit that, the memories that surfaced next came effortlessly.

Lunch breaks spent beside Nakamura came back to him first—not as isolated memories, but as a feeling. The familiar sound of his voice, the easy rhythm of conversations that could drift from nonsense to something meaningful without either of them noticing. The ridiculous arguments that should have been annoying somehow became the part of the day Hirose looked forward to most.

Then there were the walks home beneath an evening sky neither of them ever seemed to pay attention to. They had always been too busy talking, too caught up in each other's presence to notice the colors fading overhead. Looking back now, those moments felt painfully precious.

What lingered most, though, was something smaller. The way a single smile from Nakamura could unravel a bad mood before Hirose even realized he was carrying one. The way being near him made everything feel lighter, easier, as if the world naturally settled into place whenever he was there.

And the way his absence had hurt.

It hadn’t happened all at once. The feeling had settled into him little by little, woven through ordinary days until he could no longer separate it from himself. Every attempt to move on had only made him more aware of what was missing. The harder he tried to ignore it, the more clearly he felt the shape of the absence Nakamura had left behind.

A slow breath escaped him.

“I just wanted…”

His voice caught in his throat.

The confession felt impossibly simple now, and somehow that made it harder. For so long he'd hidden behind jokes, smiles, and whatever answer people expected from him. Now there was nothing left between them except the truth, and that terrified him more than anything.

When he finally lifted his head, he met Nakamura's eyes properly. There was nowhere left to retreat to, no excuse left to hide behind. Just the quiet space between them and the aching certainty that whatever happened next would matter. He swallowed hard, feeling painfully exposed, and let himself stay there anyway.

“I just wanted to be by your side again.”

The words settled quietly between them.

Nakamura stared at him as if the sentence had reached his ears but refused to enter his brain. Confusion flickered across his face, followed by disbelief, then something that looked suspiciously like hope trying very hard not to exist.

“W-what do you mean…?” he asked.

Hirose let out a shaky breath, glancing down before finding Nakamura's eyes again. “It means I was a terrible boyfriend,” he admitted with a self-conscious laugh. “I never really understood what I wanted.” His smile softened. “But... if you'll have me, I'd like to try being a better one.”

For a heartbeat, Nakamura didn't move.

Then the color hit him.

It started at his ears, climbed over his cheeks, reached his forehead, and just... kept going. Hirose was fairly certain if blushes could spread to elbows, they would have.

“…Huh?” Nakamura squeaked.

Hirose couldn't help it. He covered his mouth, laughing under his breath.

That, apparently, was the final straw.

“W-WHAT?!” Nakamura blurted, his voice echoing far louder than either of them wanted.

“Shhh!” Hirose hissed, immediately grabbing both of his hands before he could combust any further. “We're supposed to be hiding.”

Nakamura clamped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked together. He nodded with frantic determination—once, twice, then several more times in rapid succession until he nearly lost his balance from the effort.

“Yes!”

Hirose blinked. “…Yes?”

“Yes,” Nakamura repeated, the word breaking apart as soon as it left him. “Yes, please… I-I don’t care if this is a dream. I don’t want to wake up…”

His shoulders trembled with the confession, like he'd been holding it in for far too long.

Hirose's smile faded into something gentler.

“I’ve liked you since the first day I saw you,” Nakamura whispered. “You were always the one I liked…”

For a moment, Hirose could only stare.

Pieces he'd never thought belonged together began quietly finding each other.

The way Nakamura had stopped meeting his eyes. How he'd vanished after Hirose started dating Hana. The awkward distance that had appeared overnight. Then Valentine’s Day—how strangely flustered he'd looked when Hirose had run toward him.

“…You weren’t upset because nobody gave you anything,” he said slowly, almost to himself. “You thought… I was confessing to you.”

Nakamura's breath caught.

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

Hirose lowered his eyes, the truth settling heavier with every heartbeat.

“I got a girlfriend…” he murmured. “...And that’s why you disappeared.”

His stomach twisted.

Before Nakamura could say anything, Hirose stepped forward and wrapped both arms around him, holding him tightly.

“I was the one who hurt you.”

“No.” Nakamura clung to the back of his uniform without hesitation, shaking his head against his shoulder. “No, don't think like that…”

“But I never noticed,” Hirose whispered. “I just… left you there.”

Nakamura trembled in his arms.

“I don’t want our first day together to be sad…” he whispered into Hirose’s shoulder, the words barely louder than his uneven breathing.

The confession settled between them with surprising weight.

Hirose felt Nakamura trembling against him, not from fear anymore, but from everything he had been holding back for so long finally spilling free. He realized then that this wasn't just the end of a misunderstanding. It was the end of months spent walking past each other, pretending not to look, swallowing words that should have been spoken long ago.

His arms tightened instinctively.

“…Yeah,” he whispered, his own voice rough with emotion. “You're right.”

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead gently against Nakamura's. Neither of them moved. The morning sunlight poured through the classroom windows, warming the empty desks around them, while the distant sounds of students talking in the hallway drifted faintly through the walls. The school day had already begun, yet inside this forgotten classroom, time seemed willing to wait just a little longer.

“I don't want our first day together to begin with tears either,” Hirose said quietly.

Nakamura let out a tiny laugh, the kind that escaped despite the tears still clinging to his lashes. It was fragile, almost embarrassed, but undeniably real.

“…I'm sorry,” he murmured.

“For what?”

“For crying so much.”

Hirose smiled, reaching up to brush away the dampness beneath Nakamura's eyes with the pad of his thumb. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as though he was afraid the moment might disappear if he moved too quickly.

“You've been carrying this by yourself since the first day,” Hirose said. “If anyone deserves to cry, it's you.”

Nakamura's lips trembled into another smile.

“…I really thought I'd lost.”

The words struck Hirose harder than he expected.

He remembered every moment all at once—the awkward distance after Valentine's Day, the unanswered greetings, the way Nakamura had quietly disappeared whenever Hirose came too close. He had mistaken all of it for indifference when, in reality, Nakamura had simply been trying to survive watching the person he loved choose someone else.

A dull ache settled in his chest.

“I made you think that,” Hirose said softly.

“You didn't know.”

“I still did.”

For a moment neither of them argued. There wasn't really anything to argue about. The past couldn't be undone, and neither of them wanted to waste this moment trying to decide whose fault it had been.

Instead, Hirose smiled—a small, honest smile that felt lighter than any expression he'd worn in months.

“So,” he said, his voice gentler now, “from today onward…”

Nakamura looked up.

“…let me make new memories with you.”

The words were simple.

But Nakamura's eyes widened as though they were the most precious promise anyone had ever given him.

He nodded immediately, tears threatening to return all over again.

“…Okay.”

Another quiet laugh escaped Hirose.

“No more crying,” he teased.

“I'll try.”

“You're already failing.”

“I know…”

They both laughed then, softly at first, before it grew into something warm enough to chase away the heaviness that had filled the room only moments earlier. It wasn't loud. It wasn't dramatic. It was simply the sound of two people finally allowed to be honest with each other.

Eventually, Hirose glanced toward the classroom door.

“We should probably go back,” he said. “Everyone's going to wonder where we disappeared to.”

“…They're definitely going to stare.”

“They probably will.”

“…I'm kind of nervous.”

“So am I.”

The admission surprised them both, and for a moment they simply looked at each other before the tension finally gave way. A laugh escaped Hirose first, quiet and breathless, and Nakamura couldn't help joining in. It wasn't loud or elegant. It was the kind of laughter that came after crying too much, when relief and embarrassment tangled together until there was nothing left to do but smile.

The room felt different now.

The silence that settled between them no longer carried uncertainty or fear. Instead, it wrapped around them gently, filled with the soft morning light pouring through the classroom windows and the distant sounds of students moving through the halls outside. Life was continuing as though nothing extraordinary had happened, yet for both of them, everything had changed.

Hirose took a slow breath before pushing himself to his feet. He brushed the dust from his trousers almost absentmindedly, then turned back toward Nakamura, who was still kneeling on the floor, looking up at him with eyes that were still slightly red.

For just a second, Hirose hesitated.

Not because he doubted himself.

Because he wanted to remember this moment exactly as it was.

Then he smiled—a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes—and extended his hand.

"Come on," he said softly.

Nakamura stared at the hand held out before him.

It was just a hand—something so ordinary that people reached for one another every day without thinking. A gesture so simple that most would never remember doing it. Yet after everything that had happened between them—the misunderstandings, the distance, the loneliness, the constant fear of saying too much or too little—it felt almost impossible that Hirose was offering it so naturally, so openly, without a trace of hesitation.

Yet after everything that had happened between them—the misunderstandings, the distance, the loneliness, the fear of saying too much or too little—it felt almost impossible that Hirose was offering it so naturally, so openly, without a trace of hesitation or shame.

His chest tightened until it almost hurt.

He had imagined this countless times. Sometimes in hopeful daydreams while walking home alone, sometimes in dreams that dissolved the instant he woke, leaving behind nothing but the familiar ache of knowing they had never been real. He had pictured what it might feel like if Hirose smiled at him this way, if he chose him without uncertainty, if he reached for him simply because he wanted to.

Never—not once—had Nakamura truly believed that moment would actually come.

Slowly, almost cautiously, he lifted his own hand.

There was a tiny tremble in his fingers. He couldn't stop it. It wasn't from fear of Hirose, but from fear that this fragile, impossible moment might disappear if he moved too quickly. As though one wrong motion would wake him from another dream.

Their fingertips brushed first.

The contact was feather-light, so delicate it might have been imagined. Nakamura's breath caught in his throat as warmth spread through the tips of his fingers, startling in its reality. Then Hirose shifted his hand ever so slightly, closing the remaining distance until their palms met. His fingers slipped naturally between Nakamura's, intertwining with his own as though they had always belonged there.

Warm.

Real.

The steady weight of Hirose's hand settled around his—not tight enough to trap him, not loose enough to make him question it. It simply held him. Quietly. Comfortably. Certain in a way Nakamura had spent months convincing himself could never exist.

Not out of obligation.

Not because he felt sorry for him.

Simply because he wanted to.

The realization struck with enough force to make Nakamura's eyes sting all over again. His vision blurred as another wave of emotion welled in his chest, softer this time, no longer sharp with heartbreak but warm enough to almost overwhelm him.

Without thinking, he gave the smallest squeeze, so hesitant that part of him wondered if Hirose would even notice.

He did.

Immediately.

Hirose's fingers tightened around his in return, firm and reassuring, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of Nakamura's hand in a gesture so small it carried more meaning than words ever could.

No hesitation.

No uncertainty.

Just a quiet, unmistakable answer.

I'm here.

A smile spread across Nakamura's face before he could stop it, growing until his cheeks began to ache. He hadn't smiled like this in what felt like forever—not because he was trying to be polite, not because he was pretending everything was fine, but because he simply couldn't contain how happy he felt.

Hirose smiled back just as easily.

Neither of them spoke.

There wasn't much left that words could improve.

Together, they crossed the quiet classroom toward the door, their joined hands swinging ever so slightly between them with each step. The silence that had once felt painfully awkward now settled around them like something gentle and familiar, filled only with the soft rhythm of their footsteps and the quiet certainty that neither of them needed to fill the space anymore.

When Hirose slid the classroom door open, the familiar sounds of the school rushed in at once. Voices echoed through the hallway. Shoes tapped against polished floors. Teachers called after students to hurry before the bell. Someone laughed somewhere down the corridor, and lockers clanged shut in the distance.

It was the same hallway.

The same school.

The same ordinary morning.

And yet it felt completely different.

For so long, both of them had wandered these halls carrying feelings they believed they had to hide, convinced they were standing alone while only a few steps apart. Now, walking side by side with their fingers intertwined, the building that had witnessed all of that quiet loneliness somehow felt lighter.

For the first time in what felt like forever, neither of them had to wonder where they belonged.

They already knew.

Still hand in hand, they stepped out into the hallway together. Students drifted past without a second glance, conversations continuing around them as though nothing remarkable had happened.

But to Nakamura, everything had changed.

This time, neither of them let go.