He was sitting in his usual corner of the classroom— quiet, absorbed in his game— when the usual burst of energy hit the classroom.

Your voice, loud and bright, echoing through the quiet room like a sudden burst of fireworks. Laughing, chatting nonstop, tossing your backpack down with a thud, and lighting up every corner with your endless energy.

Kenma didn’t mind. Not really. He was used to the noise, the chaos. It wasn’t his scene, but he watched you with a quiet sort of fascination anyway.

But then… you stopped.

Just like that, the bright spark went dim.

You weren’t running over to talk anymore, weren’t tossing teasing smiles his way. You weren’t even saying hi. You weren’t anywhere near him.

Kenma noticed— he had to notice.

He looked up from his phone once, twice, maybe three times. His eyes flicked to where you usually stood, always somewhere near the noise, always the loudest in the room.

Now? Silence.

He thought maybe— maybe he’d annoyed you. Too quiet. Too distant.

And it hurt more than he expected.

Kenma tapped the side of his phone, hesitating. He wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.

You passed by his corner without a glance, shoulders pulled in like you were carrying some weight.

He caught himself wishing you’d turn around, wave, say anything.

Because without your noise, your light, the whole place felt... empty.

He cleared his throat, voice low but steady.

“Hey… are you avoiding me?”

You froze for a moment, then glanced back at him— surprised, maybe a little guilty.

Kenma’s eyes didn’t waver.

“It’s… okay if you’re annoyed. But I’d rather know than just… nothing.”

The classroom buzzed quietly around you, but in that moment, it felt like just the two of you.

For once, Kenma didn’t want to be the quiet one.