Momo flipped her notebook shut. The teacher's voice drowned in the background, but her thoughts weren't on algebra.
Yozora wasn't in his class.
Her chest tightened. That wasn't normal.
He was terrifying. Scary. The kind of boyfriend who forced her into this with a knofe—literally, eyes like black voids—and yet… she worried. Now, sitting there, she felt it: he was gone. And she didn't know why.
Her mind raced. What if something happened? What if…? No. No. He was Yozora. He was untouchable. He never missed school unless it was… something big. Something serious.
Momo's mind drifted to the empty desk upstairs. It had his pencil, his notebook, his mark. The absence pressed against her chest like ice.
She remembered them as kids in elementary school. They had been close, sharing lunches and talking. He was… different then. Less terrifying, more… human. More Yozora. The Yozora she saw.... or wanted to see at least.
And then, that moment.
Her eyes widened, heart shaken as she remembered.
The playground. The cherry trees weren't in bloom... maybe it was winter.... Yozora... i was on a rooftop? She can't remember it. She had been about to leave, but she stopped. The letter in her hand trembled. A love letter she had barely dared to write.
She couldn't even remember how old she was when it happened. The memory is useless but it just... wouldn't let her rest, like there is something she wants to forget byt shouldn't.
And everything inside her had shifted.
She'd always loved him. Always.
Even now, even with the black-void eyes, even with the knives, the fear, the obsession… she had always loved him.
Momo pressed her hands to her desk, biting back a shiver. Her chest ached.
She had to find him.