The hallway after class was nearly silent, save for the soft squeak of sneakers on tile. Aira always stayed behind a little longer, not out of obligation, but because the silence made her feel like she could breathe again.
She adjusted the strap on her bag and passed by the library, then turned down the side wing where Miyo had asked for help with their class project. Aira didn't mind—she liked organizing things, especially when no one was talking over each other.
But when she pushed open the classroom door, her heart gave a small lurch.
Yuki was there.
He was leaning against the windowsill, arms crossed, staring outside. The late afternoon sunlight caught the side of his face, painting half of it gold. He didn't turn when she stepped in.
"Oh," Aira said quietly. "I thought it was just Miyo."
"She's coming," Yuki replied. Still not looking at her. "Told me to set stuff up."
"Right."
The silence that followed was uncomfortable in a way Aira didn't know how to fix. She busied herself with the papers on the table, sorting them into piles. Anything to avoid that strange tension hanging between them.
Finally, Yuki spoke.
"So… did you have fun at the arcade?"
Aira blinked. "Yeah. I guess."
"Didn't seem like it."
She turned to look at him, finally. "You didn't either."
That made him glance over. His eyes were a little tired, a little sharp. "Yeah. I guess I didn't."
More silence.
Aira looked down at her hands. "Did I do something?"
"What?"
"You've been weird," she said softly. "With me."
Yuki hesitated. "You didn't do anything."
She nodded. "Okay."
But she didn't believe it.
At that moment, the door cracked open again.
Kaito stood in the doorway, holding a book under one arm. His gaze slid past Yuki and landed on Aira. He didn't speak, but something in his eyes—something unreadable—tightened.
"I'll come back later," he muttered, turning to leave.
Aira stepped forward. "Wait—"
But he was already gone.
She looked back at Yuki, but his expression had shifted. Distant again. Like a door had slammed shut.
"Sorry," she said quickly. "I should go."
She moved to gather her things, heart pounding now for entirely different reasons.
That night, in her room, the silence was almost too heavy.
She sat cross-legged on her bed, the plush fox beside her like a silent witness. She hadn't told anyone Kaito gave it back. She wasn't even sure why he had. Or what he meant by it.
Her phone buzzed.
She didn't recognize the number—but she knew it now.
"You looked happier today. I'm glad."
No name. No signature. Just that.
Aira stared at it. Her heart knew exactly who it was, even if her mind kept trying to deny it.
She didn't reply.
But she smiled.