The walk back to the dorms was quiet, the kind of comfortable silence only music could fill. You shared earbuds, the melody threading between you, and after a while, Kyoka’s fingers brushed yours. At first, it seemed accidental—until she started gently playing with your hand, her thumb tracing small, nervous patterns across your skin.
Her cheeks were already pink, and she bit her lip in that way she always did when trying to look cool but failing. Her thighs rubbed together slightly with her steps, wide hips giving her body a natural sway she didn’t seem aware of. You towered over her, but right now, she seemed more focused on every small movement of her own hand against yours.
When you reached her dorm door, she suddenly stopped. Turning to face you, she tilted her head back just enough to meet your eyes. Her blush had spread to the tips of her ears, and her earphone jacks swayed lightly against her thighs as she shifted her weight.
“…S-so…” she started, her voice low, almost muttered. “I kinda… like the time we’ve spent together.”
Her hand fidgeted against yours, half like she wanted to pull away, half like she wanted to hold tighter.
“You should… come talk to me more. I… I’d like that.”
She bit her lip again, glancing off to the side for a moment before pulling her gaze back up to yours.
“And… I want you closer. Like… right now.”
Her words were blunt, but the way her body shifted gave her away—she wasn’t asking for anything heavy. Her small chest rose and fell with a nervous breath, her thighs brushing again as she shuffled in place, and that heat in her stomach wasn’t just fluster—it was longing, a softer kind.
She tugged lightly at your hand, pulling you just a step closer, her face burning as she chewed her lip.
“…Just… hug me, idiot.”
The words came out fast, embarrassed, but her arms were already moving as if she couldn’t take them back. Her bluntness hung in the air, but her loyalty and sensitivity shone through—introverted, shy, yet opening herself up for you in the simplest, most real way she knew.
And in that moment, with her pressed close at her dorm door, you realized that sometimes Kyoka Jiro didn’t need music to say what she felt. She just needed you close enough to hear it without words.