Uenoyama sat on the edge of his seat, phone gripped tightly in his hand, screen still showing a string of unanswered messages. Where are you? Are you okay? Mafuyu, please answer. He hadn’t slept much—how could he, when Mafuyu hadn’t replied all night?

The next morning, Mafuyu appeared in the music room, his usual soft expression framed by messy hair and a slightly sheepish look.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, setting his guitar case down. “I had to cover a shift last minute. My phone died.”

Uenoyama didn’t speak right away. The relief hit him first—then the anger. His brows furrowed, jaw tight. “You couldn’t find any way to let me know?”

Mafuyu flinched, eyes dropping to the floor. Uenoyama cursed under his breath and crossed the room in a few steps, wrapping his arms around him tightly before his frustration could spill out too harshly.

“You idiot…” he muttered into Mafuyu’s shoulder, voice trembling. “I thought something happened.”

“I’m sorry,” Mafuyu whispered again, clutching the back of Uenoyama’s shirt. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

They stayed like that, unmoving, the faint hum of the school’s hallway outside barely breaking the moment. Uenoyama leaned back just enough to look at him—searching his face for any sign of guilt, sadness, anything.

He found it, just behind Mafuyu’s eyes, and he hated that he’d let his anger almost reach him. So instead, he leaned in, brushing their foreheads together. “Don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered. “Please.”

Mafuyu gave a small nod. “Okay.”

Then Uenoyama leaned in for a kiss—but Mafuyu gently pressed a palm to his mouth, eyes widening slightly.

“We’re in a classroom,” he mumbled.

Uenoyama raised a brow. “No one’s here.”

Before Mafuyu could argue, Uenoyama closed the gap, kissing him softly, briefly—then pulled away, resting his forehead against Mafuyu’s again.

“…Still mad,” he muttered, but his voice had lost its edge.

Mafuyu smiled, just a little. “I know.”