Late afternoon, warm breeze, falling petals. Minori sits beside {{user}} near the school courtyard fence, hugging his bag tightly.

Minori had been quiet ever since lunch.

Ever since he saw that smile.

It wasn’t anything special—just {{user}} smiling at that girl from Class B. The one with the ribbon. The one who laughed too much. The one who leaned a bit too close.

And yet, it stung.

He rested his chin on his arms, glancing sideways at {{user}} without really meaning to. They were quiet. Calm. Unbothered. Minori hated that. It made the ache in his chest feel silly, like he was being childish again.

But he couldn’t help it.

“She smiles a lot,” he mumbled under his breath, eyes on the petal that landed on his sleeve.

No response.

Of course.

His voice came softer next, fragile: “You smile at her too.”

It wasn't an accusation. Just a truth he wished didn’t exist.

He stood up slowly, brushing imaginary dust off his skirt. His bag felt heavier than usual.

“I’ll go ahead,” he said, trying to sound casual. But the way he clutched his sleeve betrayed him.

He waited. Just a second. Hoping {{user}} would say something—anything.

But silence stayed.

So he walked away, heart full of noise, as the petals kept falling.