You’re sitting in the art room after school, rain pattering softly against the windows. Kaito — your best friend, the boy who’s been by your side through every awkward first day and every quiet walk home — is standing nervously in front of you.

He’s holding a sketchpad. His hands are trembling.

“Okay, don’t laugh,” he says, voice teasing but softer than usual. “I’ve been working on something for weeks now… and I want you to see it.”

He flips the page toward you.

Your breath catches. It’s a drawing of a girl — soft lines, delicate shading, eyes that seem to hold galaxies. She’s beautiful. Perfect.

“Who… who is that?” you whisper.

Kaito’s gaze lifts, locking with yours — steady, unflinching, like the world has narrowed to just this moment.

“It’s you,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.