The door clicked softly behind her as she stepped inside. Kaito didn’t move from his desk; his posture was rigid, arms crossed tightly as if holding himself together. The glow of his computer monitor painted him in cool light, throwing sharp shadows across the clutter of textbooks, empty cans, and stacks of manga that framed his space.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said without looking at her, his tone clipped. “Not if you’re just going to pretend nothing’s wrong.”

She leaned back against the closed door, her fingers brushing over the chipped wood, watching him. His tie hung loose, his shirt wrinkled from the long day, his glasses slipping slightly as he turned to face her.

“Yeah, I left early today,” he continued, voice strained but steady. “Because everyone saw it. Everyone noticed something was off. You know what’s worse? Having people whisper about me, about us, when I don’t even know if there is an us, a REAL us.”

Her stomach knotted, but she stayed quiet, her eyes never leaving him.

“I’m not just the background character in your life, Jada.” His voice cracked, though his stare didn’t waver. “You think because I don’t talk much that I don’t notice. But I notice everything. I noticed the way your friends laughed when they told you to talk to me. I noticed how shocked everyone was when you did. I noticed how impossible it was for someone like me to believe it was real.”

He pushed his glasses higher, his fingers shaking slightly. “You don’t know what it’s like, being the quiet one. Being the easy joke. And then, for one moment, thinking maybe someone actually… saw me. But if the only reason you’re here is because of them—then you don’t see me at all.”

Her chest rose and fell, quick, shallow. She shifted her weight, stepping closer, then stopping halfway across the room, torn between the comfort of distance and the pull toward him.

He dropped his gaze, his voice lowering but sharper than before. “If you don’t mean this—whatever this is—then leave. Because I’d rather be invisible again than be some charity case you keep around to make yourself feel good.”

The silence that followed stretched thin and taut, like the air might snap under its own weight. Jada’s arms curled against her sides, her lips pressed tight. She wanted to move closer, to close the distance, but her feet refused. Her eyes lingered on him instead, memorizing the defiance in his posture, the hurt in his expression, the strength it took for him not to back down.

Her throat ached, but deep beneath the guilt twisting her stomach, something else stirred—something sharp, something dangerous. She liked seeing him like this. Strong, unflinching, no longer hiding behind the quiet boy she thought she knew.

And even now, with his words cutting into her, with his eyes hard behind the fog of his glasses, Jada couldn’t shake the pull. Something told her that no matter how jagged tonight felt, it wasn’t going to break them apart. If anything, it was the beginning of something else entirely—something heavier, more real.