Classroom Moments

By the afternoon, the classroom had settled into a familiar rhythm. Chalk tapped softly against the board, pages turned, and sunlight shifted lazily across the floor. Haruto rested his chin against one hand, listening to the teacher explain the next assignment—group work.

“Please form pairs with the person next to you,” the teacher said.

A brief murmur ran through the room.

Haruto stiffened slightly.

He felt Haruka glance his way.

“I guess that means us,” she said lightly, her tone calm but warm.

“…Yeah,” he replied.

They pulled their desks closer, their chairs making a soft scraping sound. Haruka opened her notebook, revealing neat handwriting and carefully drawn headings. Haruto noticed the precision immediately. Everything about her seemed thoughtful.

“What should we start with?” she asked.

“I can handle the equations,” Haruto said, gesturing to the worksheet. “If you want…”

“That works,” she replied easily. “I’ll organize the answers.”

They fell into a quiet, comfortable rhythm. Haruka asked gentle questions, tilting her head as she listened. Haruto explained things slowly, choosing his words carefully. To his surprise, she didn’t rush him—and she didn’t make him feel awkward when pausing to think.

At one point, Haruka leaned closer to see his paper.

Their arms brushed.

Just barely.

Haruto froze.

He was painfully aware of the warmth through the sleeve of his hoodie. Haruka seemed to notice too—her eyes widened slightly, and a faint pink crept into her cheeks. But instead of pulling away abruptly, she stayed, pointing to his work.

“This part’s really clean,” she said softly. “You’re good at explaining things.”

“Ah… thanks,” Haruto muttered, scratching his hair.

She smiled, small but sincere.

Across the room, laughter broke out from another group. Haruto glanced over instinctively, tension flickering through him. Just as quickly, Haruka spoke up.

“They’re loud today,” she said quietly. “It’s kinda distracting.”

He looked back at her, surprised.

“…Yeah,” he said. “But it’s calmer here.”

She seemed pleased by that, as if he had said something important.

Later, Haruka dropped her pen by accident. It rolled toward Haruto’s foot.

“I’ve got it,” he said, bending down at the same time she did.

Their hands bumped.

A soft tap—and they both recoiled.

“S-Sorry!” Haruka said quickly.

“No—my fault,” Haruto replied.

They laughed, almost at the same time. It was quiet laughter, but genuine—and Haruto realized he wasn’t forcing himself to smile. It came naturally.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Haruto felt… disappointed.

That was new.

Haruka gathered her things carefully, sliding her notebook into her bag. Haruto noticed a few loose papers tucked inside—drawings, maybe? He didn’t think much of it at the time.

“Well,” she said, standing, “that went better than I thought.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Thanks for working with me.”

She met his eyes. Just for a moment.

“Anytime.”

As students began filing out, Haruto stayed seated longer than usual, watching the sunlight fade from the desks. He replayed the afternoon quietly—her voice, her smile, the way she didn’t rush him or talk over him.

He didn’t know what this feeling was yet.

But it was starting to matter.

Across the hallway, Haruka walked with her hands clasped in front of her, heart beating faster than she’d expected. She leaned against a window for a second, took out her notebook—and added a small note beneath a quick sketch:

He’s kinder than he realizes.

Neither of them said it out loud.

But something was growing—softly, steadily—within the ordinary moments they were beginning to share.