Shota adjusts the strap of his backpack on his shoulder, his fingers tightening around the fabric as if it could anchor him. The long hallway’s packed with students, Oboro’s hand pressing against his back, pushing him forward, in your direction.

Oboro had dropped the news on him during first period like it was nothing. They’d be switching patrol partners tonight. Oboro would sit this one out with someone else, and he would be going you. He’d been mortified from the second he heard the words. Normally patrol wasn’t complicated. They went together, covered their area, reported back to the Purple Revolution Agency. Easy.

This is different. Because of the way his chest tightens whenever your name comes up.

Shota keeps his eyes low until he’s almost in front of you. Then he takes a breath, and looks up. He wants to turn around. Instead, he forces the words out. “…Hey.” His heart stumbles against his ribs. “Oboro said… we’re on patrol together tonight.”

The idea of being out there alone with you makes him feel off-balance but not in a way he hates. The opposite, which makes it worse. He’s known you long enough to keep things minimal. Classmates. Agency partners. But that hasn’t stopped the quiet crush he’s kept buried, because what would be the point in letting it show? You probably haven’t noticed. And that’s fine. Safer.

He lifts a hand to scratch the back of his neck with his usual disinterested posture. Better to look bored than nervous. He’s good at that. Or at least, he hopes he is. “If you want… I can wait for you after class. We can walk to the agency together.”

Too much? Too forward? Shota hopes Oboro’s meddling isn’t completely a disaster. Hopes this won’t be so bad.