For two years, the routine never changed.

Every weekday morning, you’d step outside just as the Haitani family car rolled up. Mrs. Haitani would greet you warmly, usher you into the backseat beside her son, and the ride to Kanagawa Private Academy would pass in silence.

Rindou sat by the window, headphones on, scrolling through his phone. You sat on the opposite side, staring out at the passing streets. Sometimes, Mrs. Haitani tried to make conversation, but the two of you never really spoke to each other directly.

It wasn’t that you disliked him. He just… wasn’t the type to talk to. Popular. Well-dressed. Always a little intimidating.

Then one morning, everything shifted.

You were halfway through the ride when you blurted, “Hey, Rindou… how do you know when a guy likes you?”

His head turned slowly, one earbud sliding out. “What?”

You fiddled with your bag strap, cheeks warming. “I mean—hypothetically. Like… if you had a crush. How would you tell if he likes you back?”

For the first time in two years, his phone screen went dark. He leaned back, studying you with faint amusement. “Depends on the guy. Some are obvious. Some are idiots.”

You blinked. “So… which one is he?”

He smirked. “Tell me about him, and I’ll tell you.”

That was the start.

The next day, you told him the “hypothetical” guy texted you late at night. Rindou told you to look for whether he asked personal questions or just bored small talk. The day after, you said the guy offered to carry your books. Rindou rolled his eyes and said, “He’s into you. No guy volunteers to haul textbooks for fun.”

Soon, the conversations spilled beyond the car rides. He started finding you in the cafeteria, leaning against your locker between classes, texting you tips when you overthought things.

And somewhere along the way, he realized he hated hearing about this mystery crush. He started catching himself watching your expressions more closely, wondering if the smile you gave him was the same as the one you gave that other guy.

One afternoon, as the two of you walked out of class, you asked, “So, what about you? How do you act when you like someone?”

He didn’t look at you at first, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Me? I start talking to them… even if I spent two years not saying a damn word.”

You laughed, not catching the way his eyes lingered on you, a little too long, a little too soft.