Chapter 7: A Confession in Reverse

Campus Confessions — Volume 1: The Secrets We Keep
The morning sun felt softer than usual, as if even the sky knewhow close the festival was. Streamers and cardboard propscovered every inch of the gym floor, and the air smelled faintly ofglue, paint, and exhaustion.“Two days left,” Haruka said, flipping through her clipboard.“We still need to finish the booth trim, finalize the volunteerschedule, and—”“Breathe,” Rurii interrupted, mouth full of bread. “Youforgot that one.”Haruka didn’t look up. “If I stop, everything stops.”Kazuki passed by carrying a box of lights. “You sound like meduring exams.”“Someone has to keep order,” Haruka said. “Otherwise,we’ll end up selling chaos by the hour.”Rurii grinned. “We’d sell out in five minutes.”Mika, standing nearby with her tablet, chuckled softly. “She’snot wrong.”---Afternoon – The Noise of PreparationBy midday, the courtyard looked like an anthill in full swing.Teams shouted over each other, paintbrushes clattered, and thesmell of fried dough drifted through the air from another booth.Haruka’s clipboard had turned into a shield — one she heldbetween herself and everything else.Kazuki and Rurii were stringing lights across the archway,arguing playfully about symmetry. Haruka tried not to watch, butevery laugh carried farther than it should have.“You’re unusually quiet,” Mika said beside her, not lookingup from her notes.“I’m managing priorities.”Mika’s lips curved slightly. “Emotional ones too?”Haruka froze. “...You’re imagining things.”“I’m organized,” Mika said. “Not imaginative.”They exchanged a look — quiet understanding hidden underprofessional calm.---Evening – The Rooftop AgainWhen the sun finally sank, the sky turned violet. The rooftop wasempty, save for the faint hum of festival lights testing in thedistance.Haruka stood near the railing, wind tugging her hair loose. Shehadn’t meant to end up there, but somehow the quiet always ledher back.A soft click of the door behind her — Kazuki stepped out, twocans in hand.“You again,” she said, smiling faintly.“Me again.” He held out a lemon tea. “Rurii said it’s yourfavorite.”“She’s spreading classified information now?”He shrugged. “She said it keeps you from collapsing.”She took the can, the metal cold against her palm. “You’vebeen running on fumes too.”“It’s easier than stopping.”“That’s exactly what she said,” he replied.Haruka laughed — not bitter, just weary. “She’s braver thanshe looks. She says what she feels. I... never could.”Silence followed, broken only by the hum of the lights below.“If I told you something important,” she said quietly, “wouldyou promise not to answer?”He blinked. “That’s... a strange condition.”“Promise,” she insisted.“...I promise.”She turned her gaze to the skyline. “Then I’ll say it backwards.Thank you... for not noticing.”He didn’t understand right away — and that was the point.Haruka smiled to herself, setting the empty can down on therailing.“Goodnight, Kazuki.”“Goodnight,” he said softly, though she was already walkingaway.---The Festival of DistanceHalfway down the stairwell, Haruka paused. The stairwell lightpainted the aluminum can gold where the sunset hit it.From above, Kazuki leaned on the railing, watching her disappearinto the orange haze.He couldn’t name what she’d just said, but somehow, it feltheavier than any confession.The festival would begin tomorrow, but something already feltover.© 2025 Kokuren Media. Campus ConfessionsTM — All rightsreserved.Published by Kokuren Books, a division of Kokuren Media.