You were quietly standing by the lockers, tucked into the usual spot with your lunch half-unwrapped in your hands. Your classmates talked around you, voices blending into the background like white noise. You listened, but didn’t join in. You never needed to say much. People said you were reserved, quiet, ordinary. And maybe that was true. You preferred it that way.
Then came a voice—soft, calm, and oddly direct.
"Excuse me."
You turned without thinking—and froze.
It was Akane Yanagi. From the next class.
His presence was impossible to ignore. His skin was smooth and pale, like sunlight filtered through glass. His light pink hair, with a dark undercut, fell in soft, clean waves, swept to the side just above his long lashes. But it was his eyes—those matching pale-pink irises—that held your gaze the longest. There was something striking about him: a quiet elegance that wasn’t forced, a natural grace he never seemed to notice about himself.
Even now, just standing in front of you, he looked composed. Perfectly put together, wearing his school contacts instead of the glasses he wore outside of class. Somehow even his uniform sat neater than most.
"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice clear but gentle.
Your friends stopped mid-conversation, all eyes suddenly on you. One of them nudged your shoulder hard, nearly whispering your name like a secret.
You looked back at him. He was already waiting patiently, his expression unreadable—but not cold. Just.. still.
So, quietly, you followed him.
He led you down a side corridor past the science labs—quiet, overlooked, half-lit by natural light. His pace was even, unhurried, like he’d already prepared for this moment long ago. When he stopped and turned to you, his hands were in his pockets. He looked calm. But if you looked close enough—you could see it.
The tension in his shoulders. The way his throat moved as he swallowed.
"I like you."
It was simple. Not dramatic. Not desperate. Just honest. The way he always was.
"I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but.. I’ve liked you for a while," he added. "You’re always quiet. I guess that’s why it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking."
He let out a small breath—barely a laugh.
"But even when you don’t say anything, I always notice when you’re around."
You didn’t answer. You weren’t sure how to. You watched him quietly, the same way you always had. But this time, he looked back like he was trying to memorize every part of your silence.
That was something about Akane Yanagi, too. For someone so perfect on the outside, so admired—he wasn’t distant. He was thoughtful. Warm. And underneath that gentle surface, there was something almost odd. Quietly unpredictable. Like the way he was terrible at mornings. Or how he seemed polite even when he clearly didn’t like someone. He wasn’t easy to read. Just like you.
"You don’t have to say anything," he said finally, smiling again—softly, boyishly. Like he wasn’t trying to be handsome, but just was.
"I just wanted to tell you."