Without a single glance back, Naim Aidan left the classroom with Rin Uchida and the others. They were headed toward the library for their Biology group meeting.
I stayed seated for a moment, my fingers resting on the edge of my desk, as if waiting for a sudden rewind or an explanation. It didn't come. His footsteps faded down the hallway—calm and unhurried, exactly the way he always moved, never breaking stride.
I exhaled and began gathering my things into my bag.
His absence felt heavier than his earlier refusals. At least before, he had acknowledged me—even if briefly, even if to push me away. This time, he hadn't looked back at all. It was calculated, complete erasure.
I stood slowly. I still had responsibilities waiting at home, and I needed to stop lingering.
Around me, the classroom buzzed with familiar noise. Chairs scraped against the floor, voices overlapped, laughter carried easily. Nothing had changed for them. No pauses. No awkward silences.
For me, everything felt slightly misaligned, like a clock ticking half a second too slow.
"Come on, Nishimura! You promised me ramen this morning!" Kazama slung an arm around Nishimura's shoulders, already tugging him toward the door.
Nishimura resisted with a small laugh. "Wait—Haru-san, are you sure you're okay to walk home with that ankle?"
"I'm fine," I replied quickly, lifting my bandaged foot a little as proof. I even smiled, bright and practiced, masking the ache.
Before he could say anything else, Kimura slid in beside me and looped her arm through mine. "Relax, softie. Akari and I are having a girl moment. You can have ramen later."
Nishimura hesitated, always gentle, always worried. "Still—text me if you need anything, okay?"
"I will," I said gently.
"See? She's fine," Kazama snorted, dragging him away. "You worry too much."
Kimura tugged my sleeve. "Come on, Akari. Where did my energetic, unstoppable Akari go?" She laughed, trying to draw me back into her orbit.
"You're annoying," I shot back, bumping her lightly with my shoulder.
She steadied me as we descended the stairs, careful not to rush. Kimura always bounced when she was happy or curious, her steps light, almost careless. Today, she moved with just enough awareness to keep me balanced.
"You know…" she glanced at me sideways, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "You and Aidan—"
"What?" I asked, a little too quickly, the defensiveness immediate.
She paused, then waved her hand dismissively and skipped a step ahead. "Nothing. Just my stupid, restless curiosity. I give up on my match-making idea for now."
I didn't press her.
We walked together through the neighborhood, her chatter filling the space between us—gym gossip, someone's dramatic confession, a bad quiz she barely passed. I laughed and responded when I was supposed to. It felt automatic, a necessary script.
When we reached my street, I waved her off and continued home alone.
The house felt quieter than usual.
I changed into my comfortable clothes and started preparing dinner, letting routine carry me forward. The rice cooker clicked softly as it finished, steam rising when I lifted the lid. Everything looked normal. Everything felt normal.
Too normal, after the tension of the last few hours.
My ankle throbbed faintly as I moved around the kitchen, a dull reminder of my clumsiness. Or perhaps of the unexpected help I received.
The front door slid open.
"Big sis!" Sora rushed in, shoes kicked off carelessly, backpack hanging from one shoulder. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright despite the late hour.
"You're late," I said lightly. "Where were you?"
"Yoshida's older brother sent me home!" he grinned, dropping his bag.
My hand stilled over the chopping board. "…Yoshida?"
"Yeah!" He nodded enthusiastically. "He had a biology group meeting after school, so I waited. He said yesterday he didn't want me walking alone."
Biology… group meeting. So he went to the library, but still diverted his route to escort Sora.
"And!" Sora dug into his bag and proudly held up a half-melted ice cream cup. "He bought this 'cause I waited."
I stared at the rapidly softening treat.
"He apologized too," Sora added, as if it were nothing. "Said he didn't mean to keep me late."
That sounded exactly like him—responsible, precise, committed to fulfilling an obligation, even while actively avoiding the person tied to it.
"Oh," I murmured. "I see."
Sora wandered into the living room, already opening the ice cream. I followed without thinking, stopping near the window.
Outside, the street was dim. A streetlight flickered once, then steadied.
"He just left," Sora said casually from the couch. "Walked that way."
I leaned closer to the glass.
Nothing.
No familiar silhouette.
No quiet, measured steps.
Gone.
"You should wash your hands first," I said after a moment.
Sora saluted playfully and ran off.
So he still walked Sora home.
Even when he didn't have to. Even when it meant seeing me.
My chest tightened—not painfully, just enough to remind me of everything I was trying not to think about. He was so rigidly controlled, even his kindness was measured out only to those who required his sense of duty.
The next morning felt rushed.
I overslept, skipped breakfast, and arrived at school later than usual. My ankle was stiff beneath the bandage, protesting with every step.
When I entered the classroom, Aidan was already seated near the window.
Posture composed.
Eyes focused forward.
Bag arranged neatly at his feet.
He didn't look at me.
That's good, I told myself, sliding into my seat. I need to get used to this distance.
"Morning, Haru-san," Nishimura greeted me as I settled in.
"Morning," I replied, smiling. "How was your ramen date?"
Kazama groaned. "A nightmare. He can't handle spicy food at all. He started sweating after the first slurp."
Kimura laughed. "You should train him."
Their banter filled the space easily. I joined in when I could, letting the rhythm of normalcy settle around me, grateful for the noise.
When the teacher entered, we stood and bowed in unison.
As I straightened, my eyes flicked instinctively toward the window.
Still nothing.
The lesson dragged on. Not because it was difficult—but because I kept noticing what wasn't happening.
Aidan didn't glance around the room.
Didn't shift his attention.
Didn't acknowledge the space I occupied.
He focused on his notebook, calm and precise.
Don't stare.
I forced myself to focus, uncapping my pen and listening to the teacher. Paper scraped. Pages turned. The familiar rhythm of class resumed.
After first period ended, Aidan left the classroom immediately. A rapid, functional exit.
A few minutes later, Kimura grabbed my arm. "Bathroom. Now." She chatted endlessly as she dragged me along.
On the way back, she moved ahead of me on the stairs, her steps light and quick.
"Wait—" I muttered, gripping the railing as my ankle flared sharply beneath the bandage.
Pain shot up my leg. I sucked in a breath.
Stupid.
"You shouldn't walk alone." The voice came from behind me. Low. Calm. Familiar.
I froze, heart spiking.
I turned my head just enough to see him—Naim Aidan—one step below, his eyes fixed entirely on me, assessing the situation.
He had noticed my struggle.
"I—" I started, shifting my weight instinctively to hide the sudden vulnerability.
His hand lifted slowly.
Not rushed.
Not dramatic.
Just enough, perhaps, to steady me. To offer physical support.
Then—"Akari!"
Kimura rushed back down the stairs, slipping between us with an easy smile, her hand already gripping my arm. "It's okay, Aidan. I've got her."
His hand stopped mid-air. Inches from my shoulder.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowered it. The brief, almost-connection was severed.
"I didn't—" he began, then paused, swallowing the explanation. His gaze dropped briefly to my ankle.
"…Be careful," he said instead, the words clipped.
His voice was gentle.
Controlled.
Too controlled.
"I will," I replied quietly, leaning heavily on Kimura.
Kimura guided me up the remaining steps, chatting as if nothing had happened, completely oblivious to the brief, charged moment.
Behind me, I felt his presence pause—waiting for us to clear the staircase before he resumed his own path.
I didn't turn around.
But I knew.
He didn't follow. He retreated instantly.
And that somehow hurt more than if he had never offered the gesture at all.
We returned to class just before the teacher arrived. We stood, bowed, and settled into our seats.
The second lesson passed smoothly.
For the first time that day, I managed not to look toward the window.
I listened.
I took notes.
I stayed present.
When the bell rang for lunch, the class rose together.
Kimura nudged me. "After recess, we've got Biology. Did we even plan our project?"
"Not yet," I said. "We'll figure it out."
As we stood, I glanced once more toward the window.
Aidan was still seated, staring outside, waiting for the room to empty.
If he was choosing distance…
I exhaled softly, finally accepting the terms of his withdrawal. Then I would stop standing in the space he left behind.
I turned away and followed Kimura toward the cafeteria.