Chapter 2: 1,095 Days (2)

Ren’s eyes snapped open at the sudden scrape of chairs and rising voices throughout the lecture hall. Sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting grid shadows across the polished desks.

Finally.

He stifled a yawn into his sleeve and began to collect his scattered notes. He rose to his feet, his blazer’s empty sleeve brushing the desk as he moved into the aisle, only to feel a slender grip clamp onto his shoulder.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Turning, he met the eye of Sumire Haruka. Scarlet eyes narrowed slightly. She tapped one foot, the polished shoe gleaming beneath her navy skirt hem. When she shifted her weight, her blazer creased at the elbow, momentarily distorting the university crest—a wave curling around a blossom—before she straightened.

“I’m going to eat,” he replied flatly.

Her glare was as sharp as any blade. A strand of her short black hair fell across her forehead; she tucked it back with a quick motion that suggested she’d been doing it all morning.

“You fell asleep again. Do you even know what exam you just took? Or when the next one is?”

He looked at her, scratching his temple with two knuckles.

“Huh? What’s your problem?”

Her face tightened. “You’re unbelievable,” she scoffed, her pale cheeks flushing with color.

For a moment it seemed she might say more, but instead she clamped her mouth shut, spun around, and marched off. Her pleated skirt swirled, and the scarf trailed behind her, a banner of indignation.

Ren let out a long breath.

Dinner tonight should be interesting.

He melted into the crowd, one more anonymous silhouette among hundreds of winter-bundled students hurrying past. Glances slid away from him; bodies curved slightly to avoid contact. The message was clear without words.

“There you are!”

An arm like a steel beam locked around his neck, dragging him into a headlock. Ren winced as his vision filled with a flash of teeth and tousled sand-colored hair escaping from beneath a knit cap.

Igawa Midori towered over most students. A mountain in a gray sweatshirt layered over white turtleneck, green varsity jacket hanging open. He was the only other person in this hellhole who actually spoke to Ren by choice.

“Midori,” Ren managed through clenched teeth. “Head. Hurts.”

“Shit—my bad!”

The iron grip released, and his neck burned with sudden freedom. Midori’s massive hand flew to his own nape, fingers scratching through short hairs as his eyes darted to the floor.

He tugged his bag higher on his shoulder. “It’s nothing. And I wasn’t avoiding you. I was coming to find you, actually.”

Midori’s face split into that perpetual grin. “Yeah, right! Wouldn’t be the first disappearing act!” He clapped Ren’s shoulder. “Listen—big news. Huge! Wanna guess what it’s about?”

They fell into step.

“Haruka.”

“Direct, as always. But yeah. You’re right. Haru-chan said yes. We’re officially dating now, dude.”

“Good for you.”

“That’s it? I’ve been working up to this forever! I’m so happy! You think that means she wants to marry me someday?”

“What about your third wheel? Have you told him yet?”

Midori frowned. “Kuro? Come on, don’t call him that. And not yet. I know they had that thing when we were kids, but we’re adults now. He’ll understand.”

Ren shook his head and pushed through the heavy metal door onto the rooftop. Concrete planters lined the edges, winter-dormant except for a few stubborn evergreens. Below, students and staff crossed the courtyard, their voices rising up as a soft hum that blended with the whistle of wind through the chain-link fence.

“Snag that spot over there. Lunch on me? Same as always?”

“Not today. I brought my own.”

Midori flashed teeth, jabbed a thumbs up, and disappeared down the steps.

Ren dropped onto the bench. His gaze drifted upward where clouds hung low and dense, their underbellies the color of wet cement.

I’m still here.

Why am I still here?

He slid open the bento Aki had packed, admiring her careful arrangement. A handmade flatbread folded over seasoned meat and crisp pickled greens. His fingers hovered over the warm bread a moment too long.

The light dimmed across his food.

“Whoa! Check that out. Fancy lunchbox you got.”

A palm slammed onto the tabletop and laughter followed it.

Three guys stood over him. Shadows of important names, coasting on connections. They had that sharp, lazy swagger of boys who’d never been told no and didn’t know how to handle being ignored.

Ren kept his attention locked on the bento, unhurriedly peeling back a piece of flatbread.

“That’s imported stuff, right?” the tallest asked, leaning in, half-smile, half-sneer. “Real exotic. Bet you got cash to burn. Hey, come on, spread the wealth. Spot us lunch, or we’ll starve till dinner time. It would really suck if you made us pissy today, right, Kazuo?”

“I... I don’t think we should mess with this guy.” Kazuo—the one with the baby face—stuttered.

“Huh? Don’t tell me you’re scared.” The middle one elbowed Kazuo who flinched. “I’m not! It’s just… I’ve heard things. About him.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Weird things.”

“Quit being chickenshit. Probably gossip,” the middle one sneered. “Still, even if it’s a rumor, this guy does give me the creeps. And, uh… have you noticed how Aokawa Reina’s always following him around?”

The tallest laughed. “Yeah,” he said, voice mocking. “I heard it’s because he got her hooked on something. Mind sharing some, friend? I’d love a taste. Imagine scoring with the Aokawa heiress.”

Ren raised his head. His features remained as still as a frozen pond. Nothing in his expression changed. No furrowed brow, no narrowed eyes, no curled lip. His stare moved from face to face.

Kazuo’s neck bobbed in a hard swallow. The second boy’s fingers twitched toward his pocket. The ringleader met Ren’s gaze and stepped back, his shoe scraping concrete, as though he’d peered over the edge of something vast and felt gravity shift beneath his feet.

Their laughter died. The rooftop fell silent except for the whistle of wind.

“Hey! Sorry I’m—” Midori’s voice cut through as he burst onto the roof, tray balanced in one hand. His grin thinned when he saw the three. “Everything all right?”

“Y-Yeah. We were just leaving,” the tallest muttered, eyes fixed on a point beyond Ren’s shoulder.

“Didn’t know anyone was up here,” the second added, backing away.

Kazuo turned first, his sneakers squeaking as he hurried toward the stairs. The others trailed after him, their footsteps fading.

Midori lowered his tray to the bench with a clatter. “What’d I miss?”

Ren picked up his flatbread, tore off a piece, and chewed twice before swallowing. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit,” Midori said, dropping onto the seat. “But whatever. Eat before I sneak some for myself.”

“Line held you up?”

Midori’s mouth curved upward. “New girl at the register. Real cute. Dimples.”

“Haruka has dimples.”

“Different set of dimples. A man can appreciate art without buying it.”

Ren snorted.

“Idiot.”