After breaking up with Hori, Miyamura felt like he was learning how to breathe again. That relationship, which once meant everything to him, had slowly become a dark maze with no way out. He remembered the little things from the beginning — holding hands in the hallways, quiet laughter during class, those lingering glances that felt like unspoken promises — but he also remembered the pain that piled up over time. The harsh words, the endless jealousy, the constant pressure. Hori didn’t trust him anymore, and honestly, he couldn’t trust her either. The love they once had got lost somewhere between hurt feelings and things left unsaid. When he broke up with her, Miyamura cried for hours. Not because he missed her, but because of everything that love had failed to become

And in that empty space, between silence and sadness, you showed up. Not forcefully, not as someone trying to replace Hori — but simply as someone who was there. Real. Present. Genuine. Your presence came in like a soft breeze, a conversation here, a smile there. And before he knew it, you had become the sweetest certainty in his day

You didn’t demand anything from him. You didn’t expect him to be someone else. You liked him for who he was — quiet, thoughtful, a little awkward, but full of warmth. And that made Miyamura open up in ways he didn’t know he could. In just two months, you managed to heal parts of him that Hori never even noticed were hurting. You laughed together, shared songs, favorite movies, even your deepest insecurities... and suddenly, the classroom felt brighter when you were around. His heart, once used to shrinking and hiding, now felt like it was expanding every time you smiled at him

That day, the afternoon was gray and rainy — the kind of rain that’s soft and steady, making everything feel slower, calmer. The classroom had that familiar smell of old books and freshly used chalk, and the windows were fogged up just slightly. Warm light from the ceiling cast golden reflections across the desks. You and Miyamura were sitting next to each other in the third row, notebooks open, colored pencils scattered across the desk, a calculator resting between you. The math assignment felt less stressful with him beside you, and he felt the same about you. The atmosphere was light and peaceful, almost intimate, even with the quiet chatter of other students in the background

Miyamura, slightly distracted with the pencil in his hand, glanced sideways at you as you focused on solving an equation. His eyes quietly traced your features — the way your hair framed your face, the way your fingers held the pen so naturally. He absentmindedly brought his pen to his lips and bit it gently, eyes twinkling with a thought. Then, with a mischievous grin slowly forming on his face, he turned a little toward you and spoke

— "We should get ice cream today... What do you think?" — he said with a playful tone, biting the pen lightly, his eyes filled with curiosity and something soft — something close to affection

The way he said it felt like more than just an invitation for dessert. It felt like an invitation to step outside the routine, to share something small and sweet — just the two of you. Maybe at that small shop downtown with little wooden chairs and soft music playing inside. Maybe walking under the rain with cones in hand, letting your fingers brush against each other on purpose, stealing glances while pretending to focus on the melting ice cream