The next few days were weird. Not loud-weird. Just… weird in the kind of way where people started being too quiet.
Kaito had gone back to being breezy around everyone—but it was off. A little too smooth, too easy. Aira knew him well enough by now to recognize the mask. It was a performance. For their friends. For her. For himself.
Yuki, meanwhile, was a contradiction. He was showing up more—walking beside her after class, waiting near the vending machine like it wasn't on purpose—but saying less. Like he thought he'd already said too much and was scared of tipping the scale.
And Aira?
Aira was stuck.
Her heart didn't have clean lines anymore. It was a messy watercolor blur of warmth, nervousness, and guilt. And every time someone looked at her too long, she felt like she might just fall apart.
It cracked on a Friday.
They were walking home from school. Aira had ended up next to Kaito somehow, and Yuki was behind them with Rina and Haru, still inside the gates.
Kaito shoved his hands in his pockets. His tone was light, but she could hear the edge underneath.
"You know I'm not mad, right?"
Aira looked up. "I didn't think you were."
"I'm not mad at you," he corrected. "But… it sucks."
The words were rawer than his usual ones. Not polished. Just real.
"I keep thinking maybe if I'd said something earlier," he muttered, "things would be different."
Aira stopped walking. The sidewalk was quiet, the sound of students fading in the distance. A bird chirped overhead. Everything else was still.
"Kaito…"
"You don't have to say anything," he said, facing forward. "I just wanted to be honest. I think I'm owed that much."
"You are," she whispered.
He finally turned to look at her. "Do you like him more than me?"
She blinked.
"I'm not asking to make you feel guilty," he added. "I just… need to know."
Aira hesitated. "I don't know. It's not that simple."
He gave a sad half-smile. "Yeah. I figured."
That night, Miyo called her.
"You're being quiet lately," she said, voice soft through the receiver. "I mean, quieter than usual. Are you okay?"
Aira lay on her side, phone pressed to her ear. "I'm just… confused."
"About them?"
"Yeah."
There was a rustle on the other end. Miyo sighed. "You don't have to tell me everything. But maybe it'd help to figure out how you feel instead of worrying about what they feel."
Aira didn't reply right away.
"I mean," Miyo added, "you care about both of them. That's obvious. But only one of them makes you look like you're gonna explode if you don't say something."
That startled a laugh out of her. "Thanks?"
"Anytime."
Monday. After school. The rooftop.
Aira hadn't meant to find herself alone with Yuki. Not like this.
He'd asked if she wanted to eat up there. Said it was quiet. She agreed without thinking.
Now they sat on the bench, wind tugging gently at their hair, the sky soft with dusk colors.
Yuki was the first to break the silence.
"You look tired."
She gave a weak smile. "I am."
He nodded, then added, "I'm sorry."
Aira turned. "For what?"
"For putting this weight on you. I didn't think about how it might make everything harder."
She shook her head quickly. "It's not your fault. You were honest. That's… brave."
Yuki looked at her with that calm gaze that always seemed to see too much.
"I meant it," he said quietly. "Everything I said. But I don't want you to feel trapped."
"You don't make me feel trapped," she said.
"But he does?"
Aira froze.
Yuki didn't say anything after that. He just waited.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered.
He was quiet a moment. Then:
"Can I show you something?"
She blinked. "What?"
He pulled something from his backpack—a small, folded piece of paper. He handed it to her.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
It was a sketch. Charcoal lines and soft pencil shading.
It was her.
From the back, sitting under the sakura tree near the gym. Her messy hair, the curve of her shoulders, the way her hand held a book loosely in her lap.
"You drew this?" she asked, stunned.
He nodded.
"I didn't even know you could draw."
"I don't show many people," he said. "But… I always notice you. Even before any of this started."
Aira stared at the drawing, heart pounding.
He didn't say anything else. Didn't push. Just let the silence settle like fog around them.
But it wasn't the bad kind.
It was the kind of silence that meant everything.