The following week brought back the buzz of ordinary life—quizzes, gym class, group projects. The air was warm with the scent of chalk and sun-baked pavement, and conversations shifted back to test scores and lunch menus.
But not for everyone.
---
Yuki was unusually quiet.
She sat by the window in the broadcasting clubroom, her chin resting on her palm, staring at the sky.
Leo entered, as usual, with a bottle of orange soda in hand for her.
She accepted it with a small smile. "Thanks."
They began sorting audio files for the weekly lunch broadcast. Nothing dramatic. Nothing unusual.
Until she said it.
"Who's Kanzaki?"
Leo froze.
"…Aiko. Childhood friend."
Yuki didn't look at him. Just kept clicking through folders.
"She's pretty."
"Yeah."
"She's quiet, but she looks like she knows things."
Leo exhaled. "She does."
Yuki closed the file explorer and turned to him. "Are you two… close?"
He paused.
"We used to be. We're catching up."
She stared at him for a second, then leaned back in her chair.
"That day in the studio, when Sora walked in… I thought maybe it was the worst moment ever."
Leo winced. "It wasn't your fault."
"No. But it made me realize something."
She leaned forward again, elbows on the desk.
"I thought I was brave. Loud. The type to go after what I want. But when I saw Sora's face, I froze. And then when I saw Aiko walking beside you yesterday, I felt it again."
Leo didn't speak.
Yuki continued, voice softer now. "It's not jealousy, exactly. It's… fear. That someone might understand you better than I do."
Leo finally said, "She's not competing."
"I know," Yuki replied. "That's the scary part."
He looked at her.
She gave a sad smile. "Because if she's not trying, and she still fits next to you like that, what does that say about me?"
He wanted to answer. But the truth was a tangled knot.
So he just said, "Yuki—"
She waved it off, light but sharp. "Don't. I'm not accusing you. I just needed to say it somewhere it wouldn't echo back."
---
Later that day, Sora found herself walking the long way to her dorm, earbuds in but no music playing.
She had seen them.
Leo and Aiko.
Not holding hands. Not flirting.
Just walking.
And that made it worse.
Because there was something seamless about their pace, their shared silences.
They weren't chasing moments. They were remembering them.
Sora hated how much that scared her.
She didn't know why it hit harder than Yuki's open affection or Hana's easy teasing. Maybe because Aiko didn't have to say anything. She was just... there.
And Leo looked more at ease with her than with anyone else.
Sora stopped at the vending machine near the back garden.
She stared at the buttons.
Didn't press any.
"Stupid," she whispered.
Behind her, a voice said, "What is?"
She jumped.
It was Hana, towel around her neck, fresh from track.
Sora hesitated. Then said, "Me."
Hana leaned against the machine, arms crossed.
"Wanna talk?"
"No."
"…Want me to talk?"
"…Maybe."
Hana chuckled. "Okay, here's a story. When I was in first year, I liked a senpai. Big time. She was smart, elegant, way out of my league. I tried everything. Jokes. Training harder. Borrowed her favorite manga to discuss."
Sora looked at her.
"And?"
"She graduated. Never even knew I liked her."
"…Ouch."
"Yeah. So I decided something after that."
Hana pushed the button for grape soda.
"If you're gonna regret something, make sure it's because you acted, not because you didn't."
She handed Sora the drink.
"Whatever you're afraid of with Leo—say it, show it, or let it go. But don't just stew in silence. It sucks."
Sora took the soda slowly.
"I'm not even sure what I want," she said.
Hana shrugged. "Then find out. But do it loud enough that life can hear you."
---
That night, Leo sat alone in the common area, headphones on but nothing playing. He was flipping through his poem notebook, stopping at one written months ago.
One about a girl who knew him before he knew himself.
One he never finished.
He reached for a pen.
Outside, the wind stirred the trees.
Inside, everything else was beginning to shift.