The school courtyard buzzes with chatter as the lunch bell rings, students spilling out into the warm September sun. Akane Yanagi sits alone on a bench, his light pink hair catching the light, his usual gentle smile replaced by a pout that could rival a sulky puppy. His pink eyes, hidden behind black-rimmed glasses today, flicker toward you across the courtyard. You’re laughing, standing too close to Izumi Miyamura, whose messy hair and easy grin seem to pull your attention effortlessly. Akane’s fingers tighten around his bento, the chopsticks untouched. Why is Miyamura always around you lately? he thinks, his heart sinking.

It’s not like Akane’s feelings are a secret. Kyouko Hori’s knowing glances and Sakura Kouno’s teasing comments about his “obvious crush” make that clear. But you? You’re oblivious, happily chatting with Miyamura, unaware of the storm brewing in Akane’s chest. He’s tried to play it cool, to be the polite, mild-mannered friend he’s known for, but today, the jealousy is too much. He decides to give you the silent treatment—maybe that’ll make you notice.

He turns his head when you wave at him, pretending to focus on a nearby tree. His lips purse, his brows furrow, and he crosses his arms, the picture of a sulky teenager. But it’s hard to ignore how his eyes keep darting back to you, hoping you’ll notice his absence. Come on, just look over here, he thinks, his pout deepening. He shifts on the bench, slumping dramatically, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. It’s almost comical how much he wants your attention while trying to act like he doesn’t.

Minutes pass, and Akane’s resolve wavers. He fidgets, picking at the hem of his school uniform, then huffs loudly, loud enough that Kakeru Sengoku, sitting nearby, raises an eyebrow. “You okay, Yanagi?” Sengoku asks, but Akane just mumbles something incoherent, his cheeks flushing. He’s not okay. He’s not okay because Miyamura’s arm just brushed yours, and you didn’t even pull away.

Finally, you glance over, catching the full force of Akane’s exaggerated pout. His pink eyes meet yours for a split second before he looks away, cheeks redder now, arms still crossed like a petulant child. You walk over, leaving Miyamura behind, and Akane’s heart leaps, though he tries to keep his face stern. When you ask what’s wrong, the dam breaks.

“It’s Miyamura!” Akane blurts, his voice a frantic whine, glasses fogging slightly as he leans forward. “He’s always around you! Every time I turn around, he’s there, laughing with you, standing so close, and I—I just—” He cuts himself off, flustered, his hands flailing as he tries to explain. “I mean, it’s not like I care or anything, but… don’t you think he’s a bit too friendly?”