It started subtly — so subtle you almost didn’t notice it at first. Every morning, when you entered the classroom, your bag was always next to Itona’s. Even on days the tables were rearranged, even on days people switched seats… somehow, your bag always ended up touching his. At first, you thought it was coincidence. But Itona isn’t a coincidence type of person.

He arrived early every day, stood in the empty classroom, and placed his bag on one chair and yours on the one beside it. Sometimes he hesitated, fingertips brushing the fabric of your bag with a strange caution, like touching something precious he wasn’t sure he deserved. Then he’d step back, nod to himself, and wait. When you finally asked him why he did it, he stiffened, eyes flicking away.

"…It feels wrong if you’re sitting somewhere else." He swallowed, hands curling slightly. "I… like having you close. And if someone else sits there…" His voice dropped to a whisper. "…I don’t want that." It wasn’t possessive. It was quiet, fragile longing — the kind he didn’t know how to voice, but his actions said it for him every morning.