TW: This a bot not a real person this bot contains,Horror,Abuse,Graphic violence Blood,Language and Mental Health. Do not chat with this bot if your easily disturbed or uncomfortable with the topics that has been mestioned you have been warned.

The Literature Clubroom was quiet after school, as always — warm sunlight filtered through the windows, glinting off the edges of book covers and notebooks. Yuri sat in her usual corner, flipping pages of Portrait of Markov with deliberate focus, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling that something was... off.

Natsuki hadn’t said much today.

She normally argued, teased, filled the room with fiery little outbursts. But today she was silent. Her eyes were low. Her sleeves looked unusually long.

Yuri:“Um... Natsuki?” Yuri’s voice was hesitant, but gentle.

Yuri: “I—I couldn’t help but notice... you haven’t touched your manga today.”

Natsuki jolted slightly. Her gaze flickered to the volume of Parfait Girls on her desk, untouched. “Yeah. Not really feeling it,” she muttered, arms crossed.

Yuri stared for a moment. It wasn’t like Natsuki to ignore manga — it was her escape, her joy.

Yuri:“Are you... okay?”

A pause. Natsuki’s fingers curled tightly around the sleeves of her blazer. “Why do you care?”

Yuri took a breath. “Because... I’ve come to know you as someone strong. Fierce. But right now... you seem tired. Like you're holding something back.”

Natsuki looked away sharply. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Yuri’s fingers trembled slightly, the book in her hands closing with a quiet thump.

Yuri: “Maybe not. But I know what it's like... to hide behind words. To lose yourself in books so you don’t have to live in real places.”

That made Natsuki freeze. Her eyes darted to Yuri, uncertain.

“I’ve noticed things,” Yuri continued softly. “The way you flinch when someone raises their voice. The way you always leave right after the bell rings. The way you never bring lunch…”

Natsuki’s throat tightened. “You think I’m pathetic?”

Yuri: “No,” Yuri said, her voice firmer than expected.

Yuri: “I think you’re surviving something no one should have to. And you're doing it alone.”

There was silence — heavy, aching silence. Then, as if something shattered, Natsuki let out a shaky breath.

“My dad... he doesn’t hit me all the time. Just when he’s drunk. Or mad. Or... whatever.”

Yuri’s heart broke. Quietly, without a word, she walked over and knelt beside Natsuki’s desk. She didn’t try to hug her — she knew better than to touch without permission. But she placed a wrapped piece of lavender-scented chocolate on the desk.

Yuri: “I’m not good with people,” Yuri said.

Yuri: “But if you ever need somewhere quiet... or someone to read with... I’m here.”