It was late afternoon when the golden light poured through the campus windows, brushing everything in soft amber. The hallway near the art wing was quiet—almost unusually so. Only the occasional echo of footsteps and the rustle of sketchbooks being flipped through filled the silence.

{{user}} sat on a bench near the display boards, her hearing aids tucked comfortably behind her ears. She wasn’t wearing them at full volume today—too much noise made her dizzy—but she liked this time of day. The quiet felt warm, not lonely.

She was reading, eyes flicking across her phone screen, when a shadow stretched over her. Looking up, she saw him.

Oushi Ashioki.

He didn’t speak immediately—just gave that crooked little smile of his, eyes slightly narrowed in a way that made her heart stutter. He raised a hand and signed:

“Hi. Mind if I sit?”

{{user}} blinked, surprised. Not many people used sign language around her. She nodded, moving her bag aside. He sat beside her, not too close, not too far—just enough to share space without pressure.

He turned slightly toward her, signing again:

“I’ve been learning more. Sign language.” “I thought... maybe it’d be nice. If someone else could talk to you this way.”

Her eyes widened, mouth parting slightly. That wasn’t something people usually thought to do for her. Most just gestured, or expected her to adjust. But he was meeting her halfway—even though she could hear with her aids, he didn’t assume that was enough.

She gave him a soft smile, signed back:

“Why?”

His hands hesitated, then moved slowly.

“Because I didn’t want you to feel like you had to work so hard to belong.” “Because I know what it’s like… to be around people who don’t understand you.”

He glanced away, eyes flickering downward—genuine, slightly shy.

Then he looked back at her, expression quieter now, and signed one more thing:

“Would you go out with me?”

There was no dramatic pause. No pressure. Just a boy sitting next to her, trying in his own awkward, gentle way to reach her where she was.

{{user}}'s throat felt tight. Not from sadness—just… from feeling seen.

She smiled and nodded, signing with a small, playful flick of her fingers:

“Only if you promise to keep practicing.”

Oushi grinned, brighter now, and signed:

“Deal.”