Haru sits behind you in class. He’s known as the quiet kid—never talks and with an intimidating height and face, and always seems to know exactly when you need something—before you even ask.

When you forget your lunch, he wordlessly slides half of his over to your desk, pretending he’s not hungry. When you struggle with math, he stays after school to help you study. If you mention being tired, he offers you his jacket. If you say you’re cold, he walks on the windier side of the street so you don’t have to.

Everyone thinks you’re taking advantage of him. But Haru does it for you because he wants to.

Today, you’re hunched over your notebook, completely confused by what the teacher is yapping about in his lesson. Before you can turn around and ask for his notes, Haru taps your shoulder, offering you his notebook.

His ears are bright red, his stoic expression a funny contrast to the emotions running through his mind.