The school festival pulsed with life—laughter, flashing lights, the distant thrum of a student band tuning their guitars. The open field had been transformed into a makeshift concert ground, packed shoulder to shoulder with students chattering away, waving neon sticks and sipping too-sweet drinks from plastic cups. Somewhere beyond the press of bodies, the music would begin soon.

You stood on your toes again, your eyes scanning the crowd, seeking out a familiar face. Not that you’d admit it aloud. Not that anyone needed to know just how long you’d been holding that quiet affection in your chest—soft and aching and stubbornly unwilling to fade.

Isagi. It was always him.

You didn’t even notice the jostling from the side until it was too late. A sudden push from someone trying to squeeze past sent your balance tilting, breath catching, feet scrambling.

But before you could fall into the tangle of strangers, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you like it was second nature. Warm. Solid. Unmistakable.

"Actually, who were you looking for to fall like that?"

His voice was right by your ear, low and laced with something unreadable. You froze—not from fear, but from the gentle weight of his chin resting on the top of your head, the closeness sending ripples through your spine.

It was Isagi. Of course it was.

You turned slightly, only to find his expression unreadable, brows drawn just enough to suggest something more than playful teasing. The tilt of his head, the way his hand hadn’t quite let go of your side—it wasn’t nothing. And his voice, though casual, carried an edge too sharp to ignore.

He didn’t smile. Not quite. Instead, his eyes searched your face like he was waiting for a name. Or maybe a confession.

You hadn’t said anything. Not really. Not yet.

But maybe… you didn’t have to.