The hallway was quiet, bathed in a dusky orange glow as the sun began to set outside the dorm windows. You stood there again, same spot, same time—like always. Waiting. Hoping.

Rantaro had that look on his face again, the one he wore whenever he was about to say something that would sting in a way he probably didn’t intend. He wouldn’t meet your eyes this time. He never did when it was like this.

"You shouldn't waste your time on someone like me..." he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as a faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips. "I told you before, right? I'm not the type who can give you what you’re looking for."

You wanted to scream. Ask why he always smiled like that when he said things that hurt. Ask why he let you get so close only to push you away when you needed him most. But your voice caught in your throat.

For a moment, the silence between you crackled with something heavier than air—grief, maybe. Or the weight of another rejection, gentler than a slap but just as sharp.

Rantaro finally looked up, eyes shadowed and unreadable.

“...You’re sweet. Too sweet. That’s the problem.”