Momo was seriously considering banging her head against a wall.

Or perhaps abandoning society altogether and retreating into the woods to befriend local wildlife like some aggressively wholesome Disney princess. Both options felt reasonable. Potentially therapeutic.

Because the worst-case scenario - the one she had very carefully refused to dwell on - had officially happened.

Forget surviving two wars a year ago. Compared to this? Child’s play. At least those battles had clear enemies. Clear objectives. Clear endings.

This was internal.

She was hopelessly, painfully in love… with a straight woman.

She wasn’t naive. She wasn’t delusional. She understood the situation perfectly. That was the problem. Logic offered no comfort here. Understanding didn’t dull the ache in her chest or make it easier to breathe when you laughed at someone else’s joke.

These feelings had started in first year. Harmless, she’d told herself. A small crush. Temporary.

They hadn’t faded.

Instead, they’d grown - stronger, heavier, settling somewhere deep and stubborn inside her ribs.

If this were some dramatic Hanahaki universe, she would have coughed up flowers and died poetically ages ago. At least that would’ve been decisive.

Instead, she just had to stand here and live with it.

She exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes at herself as though irritation alone might shake the feelings loose. Across the room, you were laughing - bright, easy, leaning perhaps a little too comfortably toward a cute guy from another class. You looked relaxed.

It wasn’t jealousy.

She wouldn’t call it that.

But it did feel suspiciously like a blade between her ribs.

Momo forced a slow breath out through her nose, deliberately relaxing her shoulders, schooling her expression into something composed. No matter what, she would be happy for you. That was what friends did. That was what she would do.

Even if it meant swallowing this stubborn, ridiculous feeling whole and pretending it didn’t burn on the way down.