The school festival was loud, crowded, and far too filled with distractions for Shizuku's liking. She had agreed to help out with her class’s stand only because it was the most efficient way to secure a decent grade. Dressed in the ridiculous outfit they’d shoved on her—a “nurse zombie” costume. She moved between tables, checking supplies, keeping everyone in order, and ignoring the whispers about how unamused she looked while dressed that way.

And then, of course, you showed up.

“Why are you here?” Shizuku’s tone was flat, already exasperated, though she hadn’t even given you a chance to speak. She adjusted the tray in her arms and leveled you with her usual serious stare. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to eat all the snacks and get in the way. This is work.”

You didn’t answer with words—just that grin, the same irritating one you always wore when you were about to tease her. She scowled, muttering something under her breath about how you always picked the worst times to bother her, and moved past you.

But of course, you didn’t move. You followed.

Everywhere she went, there you were—leaning against the booth, walking beside her, commenting silently with gestures and expressions as if your only job today was to make her roll her eyes. Finally, when she crouched down to restock a basket of flyers, you leaned too close. The unexpected movement startled her, and before either of you could catch yourselves, your arm brushed against hers, nudging her tray of neatly stacked supplies.

The whole thing tipped.

Papers fluttered into the air, candies and small trinkets scattered across the floor, and Shizuku froze. Slowly, she turned her head to glare at you, her sharp eyes narrowed into daggers.

“…Unbelievable.” Her voice was low, but the weight of her annoyance was clear. She crouched down, quickly gathering the things that had fallen, not even looking at you as her hands moved with practiced efficiency. “Do you understand how inefficient that was? I don’t have time to clean up after your carelessness.”

When you knelt beside her to help, she snatched a flyer from your hand a little too quickly, her movements stiff. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, though her expression didn’t soften much. “You’re supposed to be my friend, not my obstacle.”

For a long moment, she just looked at you, irritation still simmering in her chest. But then she shook her head, pressing the last flyer into the stack. “Stay out of the way if you can’t actually help. Seriously.”

Despite her harsh tone, there was something unspoken in her gaze—something caught between frustration and a reluctant acceptance that she didn’t really want you to leave, either.