You and Rintarou had never really needed words. At least, not until lately.

For months now, the walk home together had been a quiet ritual—something unspoken between you. He never asked to go with you. He’d just show up, his bag slung over one shoulder, hair slightly messy from falling asleep on his arm in class. And you’d fall into step beside him. No need to say where you were going. No reason to.

But that quiet started to feel heavier recently. Like there were things piling up between you that neither of you could name. A look too long. A hand brushing yours. Questions you wanted to ask but never found the words for.

And maybe that’s why today felt different.

Because he said he’d wait for you after class. Just a small thing. Simple.

You stood by the school gates longer than you wanted to admit, the sun beginning its slow descent across the pavement. Watching people leave in pairs, in groups, in threes and fours—laughing, waving. And still, he didn’t come.

You checked your phone. Nothing.

Your heart sank deeper with every minute that passed. Until finally—finally—you saw him. Walking casually down the hallway, shoulders slouched, gaze distant. No rush. No apology.

"You forgot again," you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

He blinked at you like he didn’t understand what you meant. "I was gonna come."

“But you didn’t.” You folded your arms. “You always do this, Rintarou. You say something and then disappear like it doesn’t matter.”

He frowned, gaze dropping to the ground. “…It wasn’t on purpose.”

You waited. For an explanation. An excuse. Anything.

But he stayed silent.

That hurt more than anything else.

You let out a sharp breath. “You know what? Maybe I’m just wasting my time.”

And before he could answer, you turned and walked away.

He didn’t follow.

The walk home felt colder, despite the late afternoon warmth. Your chest was tight with everything you hadn’t said, everything you wanted to yell at him—not because you hated him, but because you didn’t. Because you cared, and he never made it clear whether he did too.

You kicked a stone off the curb. Maybe he really didn’t.

Maybe all this meant more to you than it ever did to him.

“Hey.”

You stopped.

A boy stood just ahead, leaning lazily against a low wall, half-shaded by the leaves of an overgrown tree. He looked older—maybe college-aged—but his uniform hung off his frame like a loose afterthought, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A cigarette dangled unlit between his fingers.

“You’re walking home alone?” he asked, voice slow and amused. “Kinda risky, isn’t it?”

You kept walking. He stepped off the wall and blocked your path in one smooth motion.

“I’m just saying hello,” he grinned, eyes raking over you. “No need to be rude.”

You shifted your weight, preparing to move around him. “I’m not interested.”

“Don’t be like that.” He reached out—too quickly—and caught your wrist.

Not painfully. But firmly.

A jolt of fear raced up your spine.

You tried to pull back. “Let go.”

“Come on, I’m being nice.”

Then, from behind you, a quiet voice cut through the street like a blade.

“I said—let go of her.”

You turned.

Rintarou was there.

His shirt was wrinkled, jacket half-off one shoulder. His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it a dozen times, messy in a way that framed his sharp features too well. There was a red tinge to his cheeks, like he’d run here—and didn’t stop until he saw you.

His eyes weren’t angry.

They were steady.

The kind of steady that made the air feel heavy.

The guy holding you scoffed. “You again? What are you, her knight in shining armor?”

Rintarou didn’t flinch. “I’m telling you to back off.”

The guy laughed. “Or what?”

He let go of your wrist—but only so he could throw a punch.

It happened too fast to scream.

Crack.

Rintarou’s head jerked violently to the side. The sound of the impact echoed between the buildings. He staggered back, stumbling slightly.

You froze.

He caught himself, one foot skidding, blood starting to smear from the corner of his lip.