I Am Not A Complete Loner, Do I Know?

Quick heads-up:
( ) = Kaze's inner monologues
<" "> = Whispers

The morning unfolded without anything remarkable announcing itself. The classroom filled gradually, noise stacking upon noise until it became a familiar blur. Takuya Kaze took his usual seat by the left wall with windows, setting his bag down with no particular care. He didn't look around much anymore. People had learned to avoid his gaze, and he had learned not to look for theirs.

The classroom door slid open with a sound that cut through the monotony far too cleanly.

"Good morning, Kaze-senpai~"

He lifted his head slowly. Urara Izuha stood just inside the doorway, her uniform is top button undone in a way that certainly wasn't accidental, each step toward him carrying a deliberate rhythm. Murmurs rose instantly — a junior, in a senior classroom, calling out a single name with a heart attached.

"…Why are you here?" Kaze said flatly.

"That's rude." She reached his desk, grabbed the empty chair beside him, and dragged it close enough that when she sat, her knee pressed firmly against his thigh. "You should say, 'I was waiting for you.'"

"I wasn't."

She pouted, then leaned forward, her fingers tracing a slow line down his sleeve. "You look tense today, senpai. Should I help you relax?"

(Kouhai seducing Senpai? I'm quite living a nice life...)

"No." He opened a book.

She closed the gap again, resting her head against his shoulder, her breath warm against his neck.

 "Your shoulder is warm."

"You're blocking the light."

"That's not romantic at all~"

He turned a page.

She huffed softly and hooked a finger under his chin, turning his face toward hers. Their faces hovered close — close enough to feel each other's breath. His eyes met hers.

Blank. Calm. Utterly empty of anything she wanted to see.

"Did you need something?" he asked.

She let go with a defeated laugh, then shifted tactics. She stood suddenly, and before he could react, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, her chest pressing against his back, her chin resting on his shoulder. The classroom went quiet. Several students froze mid-conversation.

"Senpai," she murmured against his ear, "you can't ignore this, right?"

(Honestly, yeah. I can't ignore the things pressing behind me...)

"You're heavy."

"I weigh forty-eight kilograms!"

"Still heavy."

Her grip tightened, arms locking around his chest. "I'm not letting go until you — "

"Good morning."

The voice came from directly beside them. Gentle. Soft. Perfectly measured.

Too perfect.

Little did they know, Sato Itsuki stood there, bag at her side, hands folded, smiling with her eyes curved into crescents. The warmth in her expression could have heated the room. The stillness beneath it could have frozen it.

Izuha's arms stiffened around Kaze but didn't release.

Then, without waiting for a response, she stepped forward and sat beside the seat that Izuha left. Her arm slid around Kaze's waist from the side — smooth, unhesitant, practiced — and her hand settled against his hip with a familiarity that made Izuha's embrace look like what it was: a stranger's attempt.

(They genuinely just ignore my feeling...)

The motion was gentle. The claim was not.

"This boy," Itsuki continued, her smile unchanged, her voice dropping to something only the three of them could hear, "is mine."

The word "mine" landed like a lock clicking shut. She's surprised that someone is saying such a bold thing. Then she turned to Kaze, who is feeling surprised, too.

"Why the hell you're surprised too!!!?"

"Nothing, you two continue..."

...

Izuha's grip faltered. Itsuki's hand on Kaze's waist hadn't trembled. Hadn't hesitated. She held him the way one holds something already theirs.

"I — I didn't know you two were really dating, that's just rumour, I've heard enough of it... "

"We're friends," Itsuki said warmly. Her thumb traced a small, absent circle against Kaze's side. "Very close friends."

The contradiction between her words and her hand was surgical.

Izuha released him. She stepped back, face flushed, composure cracking, and sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

She glanced at Kaze one last time. He was reading his book. He'd been reading his book the entire time.

Izuha left.

The moment she crossed the threshold, Itsuki released his waist — but only to grip the adjacent desk and drag it flush against his. No gap. No ambiguity. The scrape of wood against floor drew every eye in the room.

She arranged her materials with quiet precision, and pressed her shoulder against his.

<"We're still friends,"> she whispered while still holding his hand beneath the desk. <"But pretend we're not. Please.">

Kaze looked at the joined desks. At the seam where his ended and hers began, now impossible to find.

"…Okay."

(Seriously? Pretend? You're claiming me in front of the classmates just now!!)

The desks stayed together for the rest of the day.

(At least I still matter.)

End of Chapter