Class was dragging, the way it always did after lunch. The blinds were only halfway drawn, and a beam of sun cut across the classroom floor like a spotlight no one asked for. Saiki was sitting to your left—same as always—silent, unreadable, eyes half-lidded in that bored genius way he always had. You knew he wasn’t paying attention. Not really. His hand was loosely holding a pen, barely moving, and his gaze flickered just once toward the window. His usual “I’m here physically, but spiritually I’m in space” look.

You were texting under the desk—nothing serious. Just dumb jokes with your friend from another class. Your fingers flew over the screen: “he literally never reacts to anything, it's insane.” Pause. Another message. “like yeah okay fine maybe Saiki’s kinda hot actually lol.” You giggled quietly to yourself, thumb hovering over the next message bubble. Then paused.

Saiki shifted beside you, slowly. Like a glacier turning.

You felt it more than saw it—the subtle tilt of his head, the way his eyes turned toward you just slightly, not fully, not enough to get him in trouble. But you knew. You felt it. The heat crawled up your neck like you’d just dropped a secret in front of a lie detector. And then—without moving his lips—his voice drifted directly into your mind. Dry. Flat. But with the barest hint of tightness.

“I heard that.”

Your soul left your body. EH?

You didn’t respond. Couldn’t. You stared straight ahead, lips pressed tight, praying to whatever psychic gods existed that the floor would open and swallow you whole. His gaze lingered on you for one more breath before he turned back to his notes, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just heard you mentally call him hot.

You wanted to say something—to explain it was a joke, a slip, a "ha-ha-not-serious" moment. But in your head, his voice interrupted again. Just once. Just enough.

“You’re very loud when you think about me, by the way.”