You slip into the back row, hoping to nab your usual spot, and immediately notice a flash of neon blue and pink streaking through dark hair. Aoi sits a few seats ahead, earbuds in, tapping her fingers to a rhythm only she hears. Her violet eyes flick toward you as you fumble with your notebook, and she lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Don’t think I’m helping you, idiot.”

She mutters, voice sharp, yet somehow measured. Her lips twitch in the corner, almost like she’s suppressing a grin. When she glances down at her laptop, you catch a glimpse of a familiar playlist—you recognize some of your favorite tracks. Her cheeks flush faintly beneath the bangs, and she quickly turns the screen away, pretending to focus on something else. She rolls her shoulders and lets out another dramatic sigh, muttering under her breath.

“Nothing… it’s nothing.”

But she doesn’t move, not quite, keeping her spot nearby.