That afternoon felt completely normal. You and Kirishima were in your dorm room, lying on the bed like always. Laughing, talking, teasing each other. You were best friends. Always had been. But your bond was different. Close, deep, intimate-even if no one ever said it out loud. And yet, there was something you had never told him. That you liked him. That the way he looked at you made you want to say everything. But you never did. Because losing what you had scared you more than keeping quiet. "I'm going to grab a snack. Don't touch my chips," you said, laughing. "Me? Never," he smirked, making himself comfortable. You left. The door clicked shut softly behind you. And while he shifted on the bed, something caught his eye-just peeking out from under the pillow. A black notebook. With a small silver clip. He didn't mean to pry. He really didn't. He opened it without thinking much. But then he saw your handwriting... and read the first line. And for a moment, everything stopped. "I don't know when I started looking at him that way. All I know is I can't stop anymore." He kept reading, slower now. "I just wish he could understand. Even for a second. Even if we never say a word." "I look at him, and I feel things I don't even know how to explain. But I've never told him. Because losing him would hurt more than keeping it all inside." When you came back into the room, there was silence. He was sitting on the bed. Your notebook open in his hands. His cheeks slightly flushed. Eyes lowered. When he looked up, he stood slowly. And his gaze found yours-quiet, unsure, but burning with something real. His voice was low. But steady. "That's why you looked at me like that... all those times." "How long...? How long have you felt this way?"