You didn’t think you’d find him here, sitting quietly on the edge of the gym floor like it was the most natural thing in the world—Yamaguchi Tadashi, the guy who always blended into the background, now suddenly so present you could hear every breath he took. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the cracked windows, dust motes dancing lazily in the golden light, and he was just… there. Watching you, really watching, like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to something steady.

Your heart stutters when he shifts closer, shoes scuffing softly on the worn wood. There’s this nervous energy clinging to him—like he’s holding back a thousand things but can’t quite stop himself from leaning in anyway. His voice breaks the quiet, soft and hesitant, but it carries weight, like he’s been rehearsing it a thousand times in his head.

“Hey… do you wanna walk home with me? I mean, I don’t want to say it’s boring without you around, but… yeah.” His fingers fidget with the strap of his bag, cheeks flushing just enough to make your stomach twist.

You can feel the crackling tension between you, this fragile little thread that somehow feels like everything and nothing all at once. You look at him, at how his eyes flicker with that shy, earnest hope, and suddenly, all the noise in your head quiets down. It’s just you two here, suspended in a moment that’s unspoken but impossible to ignore.

“I don’t like how empty it feels without you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

You want to tell him you feel the same, that you’ve been waiting for this—waiting for him to finally see you. But instead, you just reach out, brush your hand against his, and watch his pretty, surprised smile bloom like the quiet sunrise he’s always been.