Chapter 7: — "Thoughts of Denying Worry"

The classroom was still quiet, the faint murmur of students drifting in from the hallways. Sakura sat next to Ayaka, her sketchbook open on the desk, pencil hovering over a half-finished drawing. Ayaka leaned over curiously, peering at the lines.

“You’ve been drawing a lot lately,” Ayaka said with a teasing smile. “Did someone inspire this, or are you just trying to escape reality again?”

Sakura froze for a moment, her cheeks heating up. “N-No! It’s just… you know, school life stuff,” she stammered, quickly flipping the page to hide her work.

Ayaka raised an eyebrow, a grin spreading across her face. “Uh-huh. School life, sure. Looks like someone’s thinking about more than just school.”

Sakura groaned inwardly, wishing she could sink into the desk. 

Why does she always catch me like this? She thought to herself, pretending to focus on her sketch.

“I’m serious, Sakura,” Ayaka continued, her voice gentle but insistent. She leaned closer, glancing at the page. “Wait… is that… Haruto? Standing in the rain like that? You’ve really put a lot of feeling into this.”

Sakura’s face immediately flushed crimson. She slammed the sketchbook closed, stammering, “I-I-it’s not a… i-it’s just… inspiration!”

Ayaka chuckled softly, clearly amused but not cruel. “Uh-huh. Sure, just inspiration. Right.”

Ayaka chuckled softly. “But you know... it’s okay to care about him. There's nothing to be ashamed about.”

Sakura’s mind raced. Care? Me? About… him? No, that’s impossible. He used to… he bullied me! I can’t even think about him like that!

Her internal denial barely lasted a moment before her thoughts betrayed her. She remembered the times Haruto had scared her, the way he teased her, how her heart had raced every time he appeared out of nowhere. And yet, beneath all that, a strange flutter of curiosity, of concern, had always lingered, something she couldn’t explain.

She shook her head slightly, trying to force the feeling away. “I-I just… draw for fun, that’s all,” she whispered, hoping Ayaka would leave it at that.

Ayaka tilted her head, not pressing further. “Okay… but you really should show Haruto your drawings sometime. They’re too good to keep to yourself.”

Sakura nodded, still uneasy, but part of her felt warmth at the small encouragement. She flipped her sketchbook closed, her hands trembling slightly.

At that moment, the door to the classroom swung open. Haruto stepped inside, moving with his usual quiet confidence. But today, something was different.

Sakura’s eyes widened instantly. There it was, the faint bruise along his cheek, partially hidden by his sleeve as he adjusted his bag. Her heart skipped a beat.

What happened to him?

Her pencil slipped slightly in her hand, clattering against the desk. She quickly tried to hide it, but Ayaka noticed and leaned closer.

“You okay?” Ayaka whispered.

Sakura shook her head, barely able to speak. “I-I… he… something’s wrong,” she muttered, her gaze glued to Haruto.

Haruto didn’t notice her staring. He moved to his usual seat near the window, near Sakura. No "hello's," No "wassup," no nothing. He just sat down at his seat next to Sakura and Ayaka and slid his bag under the desk. Students murmured quietly, glancing at him with curiosity. Some noticed the bruise; others didn’t. Haruto remained calm, expression neutral, though inside he felt the familiar tightening in his chest, the constant effort to appear normal, to hide the storm at home.

Sakura’s chest tightened. She wanted to look away, to convince herself it wasn’t her concern, but she couldn’t. Her thoughts swirled, and her face burned.

Why do I care? He hurt me in the past… he’s the reason I… Her mind scrambled, but the moment she saw the faint discoloration on his skin, her defenses crumbled. Worry surged through her.

She whispered to herself, almost inaudibly, “Haruto… what happened?”

Her words barely carried across the desk before he looked up, meeting her gaze. For a brief moment, time seemed to still. Haruto’s eyes flicked to her, calm and steady, but the bruise was visible, undeniable.

“Ah…” he said softly, brushing a hand across his cheek, “it’s nothing. Just… a little accident.”

Sakura’s heart clenched. Nothing? she thought. But she could see the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightened just slightly.

She bit her lip, trying to calm the surge of panic rising in her chest. “Are you sure?” she whispered. “It… it looks bad…”

Haruto’s expression softened just a fraction. “Really, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Her hands fidgeted nervously with her pencil. She wanted to ask more, to demand the truth, but another part of her held back, afraid of intruding, afraid of making him uncomfortable.

Yet the concern refused to stay buried. She swallowed, finally blurting, “I… I just… I don’t want you to get hurt, Haruto.”

His eyes flickered ever so slightly, as if he was caught off guard by the admission. He looked down at his desk, a faint sigh escaping him. “I… appreciate that,” he murmured, voice low.

Sakura’s stomach twisted. Why do I feel like this? He hurt me before… why am I suddenly worried about him now? She pressed her palms against her lap, trying to hide the rapid pounding of her heart.

Ayaka leaned over, whispering with a small smile, “See? I told you. You do care.”

Sakura huffed softly, trying to shake it off. “N-No, I don’t! I just… I’m concerned, that’s all. About… school stuff, not him,” she stammered, but her voice wavered.

Haruto glanced at her again, a faint understanding in his eyes, though he didn’t comment further. He simply returned to his notebook, pretending to focus on class preparations.

Sakura couldn’t take her eyes off him. Every small movement, the way he adjusted his bag, the slight tension in his posture, made her heart clench with worry. She wanted to reach out, to do something, anything, but a part of her still clung to the old memories of fear.

No, I can’t… I won’t… I have to stay calm.

Her thoughts spun in circles as the rest of the classroom filled with students. The teacher entered, calling the class to order, but Sakura barely registered it. All her attention was on him, on the faint shadow of pain she could see in the line of his jaw, on the bruise that hinted at something more.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class. Haruto settled into his seat, keeping his posture straight, unreadable to anyone except Sakura. She watched him for a moment longer, heart racing, then forced herself to open her notebook, pretending to take notes.

But her mind wandered.

He’s… really hiding something. I can see it. And I… I want to help. I want to…

Her pencil hovered over the page, leaving the thought unfinished. She couldn’t admit it, not to herself, not out loud. She was still haunted by the past, still scared of trusting. Yet the truth had spilled out anyway, uninvited.

Sakura’s hand shook slightly as she wrote the first notes for class. Her eyes kept flicking toward him, and for the first time in a long while, she realized her concern went beyond old fears, beyond past grievances.

I… care about him. And I can’t hide it... but... why?

The thought made her cheeks burn. She pressed her palms against her notebook, closing her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, Haruto was writing quietly, eyes focused on his own work, seemingly oblivious to her gaze.

But she knew better. She knew he had noticed. And even though she wouldn’t say it out loud, even though she would still insist she was “just concerned,” Sakura felt the smallest spark of connection ignite between them.

The classroom noises faded into the background. Her heart raced, her thoughts tangled. She had tried to deny it, tried to ignore it, but there was no escaping the truth.

She cared about Haruto.