Chapter 13 – Breaking Point

The faculty meeting dragged on forever, the clock ticking toward eight like it had a personal grudge. Haru stifled a yawn and scribbled the last note in her planner. Her back ached from sitting so long.

“Takamine-sensei,” Shinichi’s warm voice broke through her haze as she packed her things. “You live near here, right? Need a ride home? I’ve got my car.”

Haru blinked, surprised. “Ah—I… um, that’s kind, but—”

“No need,” a cooler, sharper voice cut in like a blade.

Haru froze, her heart dropping into her stomach.

Aya stood in the doorway, track jacket unzipped, hair slightly damp from a post-practice shower. Her eyes weren’t warm tonight—they were storm clouds.

“I’ll take her,” Aya said evenly.

Shinichi chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Oh—sure, if you don’t mind. Saves me the trouble.”

Aya’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Not at all.”

The silence that followed felt like walking on glass. Haru muttered a shaky “thank you” to Shinichi and hurried after Aya, pulse skittering like a trapped bird.

---

Outside – The Rain Falls

They stepped out into the night—and straight into a curtain of rain. Fat droplets pattered against the pavement, pooling in shimmering puddles under the glow of streetlights.

Haru fumbled for her umbrella, but Aya was already opening hers, holding it above them with practiced ease.

“Stay close,” Aya said curtly.

Haru obeyed, slipping under the shared canopy. The world shrank to the sound of rain drumming on nylon, the soft scuff of their shoes, and the unbearable heat rolling off Aya’s body beside her.

But the silence was louder than the rain. Heavy. Electric.

Haru swallowed hard, fingers clutching her bag strap. Why does it feel like I can’t breathe?

---

Halfway down the deserted street, Aya stopped dead.

Haru stumbled, turning in confusion—only to find Aya’s gaze burning into hers, dark and raw and something close to… desperate.

“Aya?” Haru whispered.

Aya’s hands came up slowly, almost trembling as they closed over Haru’s shoulders. Firm, grounding—and yet sending Haru’s pulse into freefall.

“Do you like him?” Aya’s voice was low, jagged, like it had been scraped against stone.

Haru blinked, stunned. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Shinichi.” Aya’s grip tightened just enough to make Haru gasp softly. “Do you like him?”

“What?! No! Why would you—”

“Because I can’t stand it,” Aya hissed, and for the first time since Haru had met her, Aya looked completely, terrifyingly human—no smug armor, no lazy grin. Just raw emotion, spilling out like cracks in ice.

“I can’t stand seeing him near you.”

Haru’s breath hitched, the world tilting on its axis. Rain trickled down Aya’s temple, catching in her lashes like glittering tears.

“Aya…” Haru’s voice was a fragile thing. “I don’t—”

But the words never left her mouth.

Because Aya kissed her.

---

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative. It was heat and hunger and rain-soaked desperation, Aya’s mouth crashing against hers like a breaking wave.

Haru gasped against her lips, and Aya took it, deepened it, hands sliding up to cradle Haru’s face like she was something precious and infuriating all at once.

Haru’s world dissolved. The chill of the rain, the hum of distant traffic, the glow of the streetlight—they all blurred into nothing but Aya’s warmth, Aya’s taste, Aya’s trembling breath fanning against her cheek.

By the time Aya tore herself away, they were both panting, foreheads pressed together, rain dripping from their hair.

Aya’s voice was a ragged whisper against Haru’s lips.

“I tried to ignore it. I can’t anymore.”

Haru stared at her, heart pounding like it wanted to escape her chest. Words lodged in her throat, tangled in a storm of shock and something dangerously close to joy.

---

Aya brushed her thumb across Haru’s rain-slicked cheek, eyes fierce and unyielding.

“I want you, Haru.”

And then she let go, stepping back into the rain—leaving Haru trembling under the streetlight, lips still burning from a kiss she couldn’t stop replaying.