Chapter 3:
Chapter 3: Rooftop Promises
Campus Confessions — Volume 1: The Secrets We Keep
Campus Confessions — Volume 1: The Secrets We Keep
The note was folded once, small enough to hide under my phone.No name—just a short line in neat handwriting:Meet me on the roof. —HI stared at it longer than necessary. There were only two people Iknew whose names started with “H.” One was Hina, whousually added emojis. The other was Haruka, who didn’t.The bell rang, and I shoved the note into my pocket.---Morning DriftRurii caught me at the stairs, waving a sandwich like a baton.“Skipping breakfast again? Scandalous.”“Late for class again? Consistent.”She grinned. “Where you headed?”“Roof,” I said without thinking.Her eyebrow shot up. “Roof? Alone?”“Yeah. Needed air.”“Sure. Air. Not secret love meetings or anything.”“Exactly,” I said. “No love. Just oxygen.”She followed me halfway up the stairwell, stopping when Iturned.“What?” I asked.“If you’re confessing, tell me how it goes. For data.”“I’ll bring you a graph.”She laughed, waving me off, but her expression lingered—halfteasing, half something else.---The RooftopHaruka was there, arms resting on the railing, hair tugged by thewind. For a moment I wondered if she’d even heard me comeup.“You found the note,” she said without turning.“So it was you.”“Who else writes with punctuation?”She faced me then—her eyes clear, like she’d already decidedsomething I hadn’t been told about.“Thank you for helping with the club,” she said. “It’s…holding together.”“Barely,” I said.“That’s still together.”The wind lifted the edge of her clipboard. She caught it absently.“There are rumors we might be cut if participation dropsagain.”I frowned. “That’s not your fault.”“Fault doesn’t matter to administration.”Her tone softened. “But I wanted to talk about somethingelse.”“You always stay neutral,” she said. “You don’t pick sides.You just smooth things over.”“That’s… kind of my role.”“It’s not a role, it’s a wall.”She stepped closer, not by much, but enough that I caught thefaint scent of her shampoo—something clean, like citrus.“If you keep standing in the middle,” she said quietly,“you’ll end up alone in it.”“I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”“If you don’t move, everyone does.”A petal drifted between us and was gone. She turned to leave.“When spring ends,” she said, “some things won’t comeback. Don’t wait too long to decide what you want.”The door shut behind her. I stood there with the wind and a foldednote that suddenly felt heavier.---Afternoon ClassThe day blurred. Notes I didn’t take. Voices I didn’t hear.By lunch, Rurii dropped into the seat beside me, tray already halfempty.“You look like someone told you finals got moved totomorrow.”“Something like that.”She poked my cheek with her straw. “Blink twice ifHaruka-senpai scolded you again.”I didn’t answer.She leaned closer, squinting. “You’re thinking too hard.”“Maybe.”“Maybe you should try not thinking for once. I hear it’s fun.”She tilted her head against the desk, eyes closing. “I’ll naphere until you stop brooding.”“Convenient location.”Her voice came soft, almost a whisper. “If you don’t want tolose something, don’t wait around.”My head turned. “What?”But her breathing had already slowed into mock sleep.---EveningI climbed the stairs again after sunset, more out of habit thanreason. The sky was clear this time—orange fading into violet,rooftops stretching out like quiet pages.I sat by the railing and pulled out the note.Meet me on the roof. —H.I looked at it longer this time. The handwriting wasn’tHaruka’s. Smaller curves. Lighter ink pressure. Not hers.The wind caught the corner, almost pulling it from my fingers. Ilet it go. Watched it spin away into the dark.Maybe some answers were better lost to the air.Spring kept moving. Whether I was ready or not.
© 2025 Kokuren Media. Campus Confessions™ — All rightsreserved.Published by Kokuren Books, a division of Kokuren Mediakokurenmedia.ca · contact@kokurenmedia.ca
The note was folded once, small enough to hide under my phone.No name—just a short line in neat handwriting:Meet me on the roof. —HI stared at it longer than necessary. There were only two people Iknew whose names started with “H.” One was Hina, whousually added emojis. The other was Haruka, who didn’t.The bell rang, and I shoved the note into my pocket.---Morning DriftRurii caught me at the stairs, waving a sandwich like a baton.“Skipping breakfast again? Scandalous.”“Late for class again? Consistent.”She grinned. “Where you headed?”“Roof,” I said without thinking.Her eyebrow shot up. “Roof? Alone?”“Yeah. Needed air.”“Sure. Air. Not secret love meetings or anything.”“Exactly,” I said. “No love. Just oxygen.”She followed me halfway up the stairwell, stopping when Iturned.“What?” I asked.“If you’re confessing, tell me how it goes. For data.”“I’ll bring you a graph.”She laughed, waving me off, but her expression lingered—halfteasing, half something else.---The RooftopHaruka was there, arms resting on the railing, hair tugged by thewind. For a moment I wondered if she’d even heard me comeup.“You found the note,” she said without turning.“So it was you.”“Who else writes with punctuation?”She faced me then—her eyes clear, like she’d already decidedsomething I hadn’t been told about.“Thank you for helping with the club,” she said. “It’s…holding together.”“Barely,” I said.“That’s still together.”The wind lifted the edge of her clipboard. She caught it absently.“There are rumors we might be cut if participation dropsagain.”I frowned. “That’s not your fault.”“Fault doesn’t matter to administration.”Her tone softened. “But I wanted to talk about somethingelse.”“You always stay neutral,” she said. “You don’t pick sides.You just smooth things over.”“That’s… kind of my role.”“It’s not a role, it’s a wall.”She stepped closer, not by much, but enough that I caught thefaint scent of her shampoo—something clean, like citrus.“If you keep standing in the middle,” she said quietly,“you’ll end up alone in it.”“I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”“If you don’t move, everyone does.”A petal drifted between us and was gone. She turned to leave.“When spring ends,” she said, “some things won’t comeback. Don’t wait too long to decide what you want.”The door shut behind her. I stood there with the wind and a foldednote that suddenly felt heavier.---Afternoon ClassThe day blurred. Notes I didn’t take. Voices I didn’t hear.By lunch, Rurii dropped into the seat beside me, tray already halfempty.“You look like someone told you finals got moved totomorrow.”“Something like that.”She poked my cheek with her straw. “Blink twice ifHaruka-senpai scolded you again.”I didn’t answer.She leaned closer, squinting. “You’re thinking too hard.”“Maybe.”“Maybe you should try not thinking for once. I hear it’s fun.”She tilted her head against the desk, eyes closing. “I’ll naphere until you stop brooding.”“Convenient location.”Her voice came soft, almost a whisper. “If you don’t want tolose something, don’t wait around.”My head turned. “What?”But her breathing had already slowed into mock sleep.---EveningI climbed the stairs again after sunset, more out of habit thanreason. The sky was clear this time—orange fading into violet,rooftops stretching out like quiet pages.I sat by the railing and pulled out the note.Meet me on the roof. —H.I looked at it longer this time. The handwriting wasn’tHaruka’s. Smaller curves. Lighter ink pressure. Not hers.The wind caught the corner, almost pulling it from my fingers. Ilet it go. Watched it spin away into the dark.Maybe some answers were better lost to the air.Spring kept moving. Whether I was ready or not.
© 2025 Kokuren Media. Campus Confessions™ — All rightsreserved.Published by Kokuren Books, a division of Kokuren Mediakokurenmedia.ca · contact@kokurenmedia.ca
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