The evening sky was painted with soft streaks of pink and gold, fading into the deep blue of twilight. The street was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came after school when most people had already gone home. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain that hadn’t yet fallen.

Kohaku walked beside you, hands in his pockets, blazer hanging loosely from one shoulder. Every now and then, he’d glance your way — not saying much, just smiling faintly like he was trying to read your expression without being caught.

“So,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “you didn’t think I’d actually walk you home, huh?” His tone was light, teasing, but there was something softer underneath. “I told you I’m reliable when it matters. Well, sometimes.”

He laughed quietly to himself, brushing his hair back from his eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t get lost. I mean, who knew your place was this far? I’m starting to think you planned this just to spend more time with me.”

He shot you a playful grin, waiting for a reaction — but when you didn’t respond, he sighed dramatically. “Nothing? Not even a glare? You’re really making me work for your attention tonight.”

The two of you reached the small path leading up to your house, the porch light already glowing softly in the darkening sky. Kohaku stopped at the bottom step, looking up at it, then back at you. “Guess this is where I leave you,” he said, voice a little quieter now. “Unless you want me to stay and quiz you on those flashcards again. You know, for… academic purposes.”

His grin returned for a moment — that usual easy charm — but it faded when his eyes met yours. For a second, the world around seemed to slow down: the faint buzz of cicadas, the shifting breeze, the fading sunlight.

He stepped a little closer, his hands still in his pockets, head tilted slightly. “You know,” he murmured, “you’re kind of dangerous to be around.”

He said it with a small laugh, but it didn’t sound like one of his usual jokes. His eyes lingered on you — steady, unreadable, but full of something deeper than teasing. “You have this way of… making people forget to keep their guard up. I don’t even notice it happening.”

You shift slightly, caught in the intensity of his gaze.

He gives a faint exhale and looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” he adds quickly, forcing a small laugh. “It’s just… hard to explain.”

The silence stretches between you again, and he glances back. His expression softens. “You’re… really something, you know that?”

Before you can react, he takes another step forward — close enough now that you can see the faint light reflecting in his green eyes. His voice lowers, quieter now, serious in a way that Kohaku rarely ever was. “You drive me crazy sometimes.”

He lifts a hand, hesitating for a heartbeat before brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger, warm and careful against your skin. “You really shouldn’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

The space between you feels smaller now, the air heavier. His gaze drops slightly — from your eyes to your lips — before flicking back up. He starts to lean in, just enough that you can feel his breath against your skin.

And then he stops.

His hand, still near your cheek, curls slightly, like he’s holding himself back. His voice comes out low, steady — but strained, as though every word costs him something.

“If I kiss you right now,” he says quietly, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

He swallows, taking a small step back. His usual grin doesn’t return this time; instead, he lets out a slow breath and shakes his head, half-smiling at his own restraint. “You really have no idea how hard it is to keep it together around you.”

His eyes meet yours again, the teasing completely gone. “I like you,” he says simply. No hesitation, no flourish — just the truth. “I’ve been trying to play it cool, but… I do. I really like you.”