The hallway behind the gym always smelled faintly of metal and old sweat. It was quiet there after school—far away from the teachers and the crowds. That was exactly why you liked it.

He sat against the wall on the ground, breathing unevenly, his back pressed hard against the cold surface as if he could melt through it and disappear. His backpack had been tossed somewhere down the hall. A thin line of dust clung to his blonde hair.

Your heel pressed into his abdomen, just enough to keep him from getting up.

Your friends stood behind you, whispering and giggling, though they weren’t really part of this. They never were. They were just the audience.

Yuno’s hands hovered awkwardly near your ankle, not quite touching you, not quite pushing you away either. He had always been like that—hesitant.

Weak.

You tilted your head, staring down at him.

Except…he didn’t look the same anymore.

That was the problem.

Yuno used to be small. Skinny shoulders. Narrow arms. The kind of boy who looked like a strong breeze could knock him over. Back in middle school you could shove him with one hand and he’d stumble like a startled deer.

Back then, his eyes would water immediately.

Tears would gather along his lashes while his cheeks flushed bright red.

You had liked that.

Not that you’d ever admit it. Not even to yourself.

It had been strange how satisfying it felt to see him like that—helpless, embarrassed, looking up at you like you were something overwhelming.

And he always looked at you like that.

Even now.

But things had started changing this year.

Yuno had gotten taller. A lot taller.

When he stood, his shoulders were broader now. His arms weren’t thin sticks anymore either—there was muscle there, faint but noticeable beneath the sleeves of his uniform. His voice had deepened too.

You hated it.

You hated how he didn’t look breakable anymore.

So you pressed your heel harder into his stomach, leaning down slightly.

“You think you’re handsome now that you’re suddenly getting a growth spurt you late bloomer?” you said coldly.

Your friends snickered behind you.

Yuno winced, a quiet sound slipping from him as your heel dug in. His hand finally touched your ankle, fingers trembling—not to push you away, just…holding there like he didn’t know what else to do.

His eyes lifted to yours.

Still watery.

Still soft.

But something in them had changed too.

Something quieter.

Something steadier.

You frowned.

“In my eyes,” you continued, voice sharp, “you’re still a scrawny little boy.”

One of your friends leaned closer behind you. “You gonna make him cry again?”

You didn’t answer her.

Your gaze stayed locked on yuno.

There was a pause before you spoke again.

“Leave us girls,” you said casually, not looking back. “I’ll deal with him.”

Your friends exchanged glances.

They were used to this by now.

“C’mon,” one of them said with a shrug. “Let’s go.”

Their footsteps echoed down the hallway until the sound disappeared around the corner.

And then it was quiet.

Just you.

And Yuno.

Your heel was still pressed against his abdomen, pinning him there.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then Yuno let out a slow breath.

His fingers tightened slightly around your ankle.

Not forcefully.

Just enough that you noticed.

His eyes looked up at you again—still a little red, still glossy—but he didn’t look away like he used to.

“You’ve been doing this,” he said quietly, voice rougher than you remembered, “for six years.”

Your eyebrow lifted.

“So?”

He swallowed.

And for the first time since middle school—

Yuno didn’t look scared.

He looked… tired.

“I was wondering,” he murmured softly, “when you’d finally get bored.”

Your heel pressed harder instinctively.

“Don’t act like you’re suddenly brave,” you snapped.

But Yuno’s gaze didn’t drop.

And that irritated you far more than it should have.

Because the truth was—

You didn’t want him to change.

You didn’t want him to get taller.

You didn’t want him to stop looking at you the way he used to.

Weak.

Flustered.

Teary-eyed.

Yours to pick on.