The school hallway buzzed with the usual afternoon chatter, lockers slamming shut, and hurried footsteps echoing off the walls. Okarun moved through it all like a man on a mission, his steps purposeful, his eyes scanning every corner. His heart was racing—not from nerves, but from sheer determination. He had to say it. Had to tell you.

He wasn’t great with words—not about stuff like this—but he’d been rehearsing all day in his head. He knew it wasn’t going to come out perfect, but he figured you’d get it. You always did.

Finally, his gaze landed on you at the far end of the hall, near the art wing.

There you were, your back against the wall, and some guy—a senior, judging by the blazer—was leaning in close. Too close. The guy’s arm was casually resting against the wall beside your head, and Okarun’s stomach dropped when he saw the guy lean in to kiss you.

And then, just like that, the emotions hit him all at once—like a punch to the gut. Annoyance, sharp and immediate, bubbled up to the surface.

He wasn’t jealous—well, maybe a little. Okay, a lot. But it wasn’t just that. It was the fact that you—the person he’d been psyching himself up to confess to—were letting this guy pull this move. Was this the kind of guy you liked? Someone all smooth and confident?

“Oi!” His voice came out sharper than he intended, carrying across the hallway like a snap of thunder. Heads turned. The senior pulled back slightly, glancing over his shoulder in mild irritation—until he saw Okarun’s glare.

“What’s your problem, dude?” the guy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Okarun didn’t answer right away. His focus was entirely on you, searching your expression for… something. Were you okay? Were you into this guy? Did you know what you were doing to him right now?

“Let them go,” Okarun finally said, his voice low but steady, his eyes narrowing.

It wasn’t a request.