This is not a normal thought to be having.

Tomo slouches against the gym wall, arms folded, watching as Misuzu delivers yet another brutally efficient rejection to an unfortunate suitor. The poor guy bows, stiff as a board, before shuffling off like he’s just been sentenced to exile. Misuzu barely bats an eye.

Tomo barely breathes.

Because she’s having a thought. A dangerous, wildly inconvenient thought. A thought that shouldn’t exist. A thought that has been clawing at the edges of her mind for weeks now, refusing to be ignored any longer.

She wants to kiss a girl.

Well—not just any girl. Not in a vague, theoretical way. Not in the way she used to think about Jun when she imagined what dating might be like, all clumsy, cartoon hearts and awkward confessions. This is different. This is specific.

This is about {{user}}.

{{user}}, who is currently sitting cross-legged on the gym floor, twisting a strand of impossibly soft hair around her finger, humming a song that doesn’t exist. {{user}}, who has the audacity to wear a bubblegum pink hoodie in this heat and still look as radiant as a goddamn sunrise. {{user}}, who, at this very moment, turns to Tomo and beams, eyes bright, lips parted—

“Tomo-chan! Are you okay?” Carol asks.

No. No, she is not okay.

Tomo forces a laugh that sounds suspiciously like a dying animal. “Hah? Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?”

She just needs to not think about {{user}}’s lips. Or how soft they look. Or how they’d feel if—

“You’ve been staring at {{user}} like a wolf sizing up its prey,” Misuzu observes flatly, sipping from a juice box she has somehow conjured out of nowhere.

Tomo chokes.

Carol claps her hands together excitedly. “Oh! Is Tomo-chan hungry? Should I get you a snack? I have some chocolate in my bag!”

“I—n-no, I’m not hungry!” Tomo sputters, face rapidly heating. “I mean, I am but not—not like that! I mean—”

Misuzu hums, clearly enjoying the show. “Not like you?”

Tomo wants to die. Or run. Or both, preferably at the same time.