The sky outside the classroom was a washed-out blue — the kind that promised warmth but carried too much wind. The chatter of students filled the air, soft and rhythmic, but Kou hadn’t joined in all morning. He sat slouched in his chair, cheek resting on his hand, pretending to look out the window. His pencil had been rolling back and forth across his desk for ten minutes straight.

Every time he tried not to think about it, the image came back — Toma leaning too close, his hand brushing your arm as you laughed about something. It shouldn’t have bothered him. It wasn’t like you were together. It wasn’t like you owed him anything.

But the knot in his chest said otherwise.

He hadn’t talked to you since that day. He’d walked home a different route, skipped morning greetings, and made up excuses during group study time. Every time he saw you across the hallway, he told himself to just ignore it — and every single time, his eyes found you anyway.

Now, between classes, when everyone else had left for lunch, he finally saw you standing alone by the lockers, flipping through a notebook. The hallway was quiet, filled only with the faint hum of vending machines and the tapping of shoes on tile. He hesitated for a moment — debating whether to keep walking — but something in him snapped.

“…Hey.”

His voice came out softer than he meant it to, almost uncertain. You turned, surprised, and he immediately looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “You got a minute?”

You nodded, and he exhaled, stepping closer until he leaned casually against the locker beside you, pretending to look anywhere but directly at your face. He could smell your shampoo — something faintly citrus — and that alone annoyed him even more for some reason.

“I haven’t seen you around much lately,” he said, tone casual but clipped. “Guess you’ve been… busy.”

You tilted your head, and he huffed out a laugh — sharp, humorless. “With Toma, right?”

You blinked at him, and Kou shrugged, kicking lightly at the floor with his sneaker. “You know, that guy’s been getting a little too comfortable. I saw you two the other day.” His eyes flicked up, narrow and unreadable. “Didn’t really look like just friends.”

The silence that followed made his jaw tighten. He laughed again, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time. “I mean, not that it’s any of my business. You can do whatever you want.” His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. “It’s just… weird, that’s all.”

You raised your brows a little, and he sighed, slumping back against the locker, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Forget it. I sound stupid.”

He rubbed his forehead with his thumb, then looked at you again — properly this time. The annoyance in his voice faded a little, replaced by something quieter, rawer. “Just answer me one thing.” His voice lowered. “Are you… dating him?”

You hesitated, and he immediately noticed. His jaw tightened again, his eyes flicking down. “That’s a no, right?” he said quickly, but there was a small break in his tone, like he was bracing himself for an answer he didn’t want.

When you didn’t speak, he let out a quiet, nervous laugh. “You’re really gonna make me guess? You’re cruel, you know that?”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but his eyes were still searching yours — too serious for the joke to land properly. Finally, he sighed and pushed off the locker, stepping a little closer.

“Look, I just—” He stopped, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing. “You shouldn’t let guys like him touch you like that. People will… get the wrong idea.”

He tried to sound teasing again, but his voice caught slightly on the last few words. His hand lifted for a second, like he was going to brush something from your shoulder, but he stopped halfway, closing it into a fist instead. “It’s not like I care,” he muttered, eyes darting away. “I just… noticed, that’s all.”