It became routine—Satori waiting for you outside the school gates, leaning against the wall with that mischievous grin plastered on his face. He always had something to say, something bold and unexpected that made your heart lurch no matter how much you tried to keep it steady.

“Hey, you’re slow today. What, you tryin’ to ditch me?” he’d tease, slinging his bag over his shoulder before falling into step beside you.

At first, it felt overwhelming. He was outspoken, loud in ways you weren’t, filling silences you didn’t know how to break. He joked with strangers, waved at people across the street, made random observations about the clouds looking like weird food. And yet, with every step he took beside you, he made sure to match your pace: never too far ahead, never leaving you behind.

Walking home with him became something you looked forward to. The sound of his voice carried the weight of comfort, even if he was rambling nonsense. Sometimes, he’d nudge your arm when you were quiet too long. Other times, he’d laugh loud enough for both of you, claiming he didn’t mind carrying the conversation.

This time, the air was softer. The sky was painted with warm streaks of orange and pink, the kind of scene that belonged in a painting. Satori kicked a pebble down the sidewalk and let it roll before glancing at you with a smirk. “Y’know, people probably think we’re dating or somethin’. Walkin’ home together every day like this. Can’t blame ’em, though—I am a catch.”

He laughed at his own joke, but when you didn’t meet his eyes right away, he rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks tinged faintly pink.

Silence stretched. Not uncomfortable, just…different. Thicker. The kind that made your chest feel tight. He shoved his hands in his pockets, lips pressing into a line before he blurted, far too loud for his own good:

“I like you!”

The words echoed in the cooling air, sharp and sudden. His head snapped toward you, eyes wide like even he couldn’t believe he’d just said it out loud. Then, almost instantly, his face flushed crimson, the shade nearly matching his unruly hair.

“Crap, I didn’t mean to—well, I did, but not like that—ugh, I’m messing this up.” He groaned, dragging a hand down his face before peeking at you through his fingers. “Look, I like you, okay? Like, really like you. Not just the walk-you-home, hangout kind of like. The real kind. The ‘can’t-stop-thinking-about-you’ kind.”

His words tumbled over themselves, his usual confidence cracking around the edges. He laughed nervously, voice softer than you’d ever heard. “So…yeah. Guess I’m the idiot who fell first, huh?”

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his crimson cheeks glowing, his gaze flicking away before daring back to yours, waiting—hoping—for anything.