You were laughing.

Not loudly, not obnoxiously—just that soft kind of laugh that slipped out when someone said something unexpectedly kind. Junpei had made a joke, something dumb but sweet, and you’d smiled at him like he’d just handed you the moon.

Shinjiro saw it.

From across the dorm lounge, where he leaned against the wall with arms folded and eyes shadowed beneath his bangs. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. But the air around him shifted—tightened.

Junpei didn’t notice.

You did.

Later, when the others had drifted off and the lights had dimmed, you found him outside, sitting on the steps with a cigarette burning low between his fingers.

“You okay?” you asked.

He didn’t look at you. “Fine.”

You sat beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his silence.

“You seemed… tense.”

He exhaled slowly, smoke curling into the night. “Did I?”

You nodded. “Was it something I said?”

“No,” he muttered. “Something he said.”

You blinked. “Junpei?”

Shinjiro didn’t answer. But his jaw clenched. You reached out, brushing his sleeve. “You know I wasn’t flirting, right?”

“I know,” he said. Too fast.

You tilted your head. “Then why do you look like you want to punch a wall?”

He finally turned to you, eyes dark and tired. “Because he gets to make you laugh like that. And I don’t.”

The words hung between you, raw and unexpected.

You didn’t speak.

You just leaned in, resting your head lightly against his shoulder.

And for once, Shinjiro didn’t pull away.