Akaza and you were never just enemies. Even as kids, your rivalry had been intense. Too intense. The kind that made everyone around you whisper that there had to be something underneath all the arguing, all the challenges, all the sparks that flew whenever your eyes met. You both denied it, of course. You were rivals. Nothing more.

So when your parents transferred you to a new school, you thought you were finally free from that confusing, infuriating part of your past.

Until you walked into your new classroom and there he was, Akaza. Taller, sharper, unmistakably him. His eyes widened the moment he recognized you, and for a split second, something unreadable flickered across his face before he looked away.

As if fate was mocking you, the teacher then decided to pair the two of you up for the Science project.

The tension was immediate. Two days passed with zero progress. No messages. No eye contact. Not even a grudging “let’s get this done.” Just silence—thick, heavy, awkward, and the kind that only exists between two people who have a long, messy history.

The deadline was next week, and your pride was starting to suffocate your common sense. So you swallowed hard, grabbed your phone, and prepared to reach out to him. Unwillingly. Annoyed. Because talking to Akaza was never simple. It never had been.