(Kiyomi's POV)
Thursday mornings used to feel ordinary — sleepy, slow, and somehow warm with routine. But not today.
Today, everything felt slightly off. The air in Class 2A wasn't tense like before; it was quieter — emptier.
Hinata sat two seats away from Akio, pretending to be focused on her notes. Akio didn't even glance her way.
And for the first time since I'd known them, they looked like strangers.
Even Asahi, usually cheerful, seemed a little subdued. He'd occasionally glance between them — like he could feel the invisible wall too.
And Minato…
Minato was by the window again, sunlight catching the edges of his hair, eyes half-focused on his book but not really reading. He looked peaceful, but I knew better.
Rumours still lingered like smoke, but he didn't seem to care. In fact, he'd become bolder.
Whenever he looked at me, there was no hesitation anymore — no fear of who might be watching.
And that scared me a little, because even though I wanted him close, I wasn't ready for the world to see it.
At lunch, I decided to do something I hadn't done all week — sit with everyone again.
It felt strange, like revisiting an old photograph where everyone smiled before life started getting complicated.
We gathered under the jacaranda tree near the science block — the same place we used to laugh about homework and trade snacks.
But this time, there were gaps.
Hinata sat farthest from Akio, and Minato sat right next to me.
No one said anything for a while. Then, it was Asahi who broke the silence.
Asahi: You know… I've been thinking (He leaned back against the tree, staring at the blue sky through the branches). You all know me as the funny one, right? The guy who never takes anything too seriously?
He smiled faintly, but it wasn't the usual smile. It was small — fragile, even.
Kiyomi: That's how you've always been.
Asahi: Yeah. But it wasn't always by choice.
Everyone looked up. Even Hinata turned slightly to face him.
Asahi: My dad left when I was six. My mom worked night shifts, so I learned early how to pretend everything was fine. Being funny was easier than explaining why I was alone most of the time (He paused, eyes on the ground). That's why I can't stand seeing people I care about drift apart. Because I know what it feels like to lose people without ever getting to say goodbye properly.
His voice cracked just a little at the end. And for a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Hinata's voice came softly.
Hinata: You're not alone now.
Her words trembled, and for a brief second, I saw the same warmth between them that had started forming lately — quiet, hesitant, but real.
After lunch, Minato walked me to the gate.
The sun was warm but gentle, and the faint chatter of students filled the air like background music.
Kiyomi: You really don't care what they say, do you?
He smiled slightly, looking ahead.
Minato: If I did, I'd have lost my mind by now.
Kiyomi: But doesn't it bother you? The stares, the gossip, everything?
He stopped walking, turning to face me fully.
Minato: You bother me more.
My eyes widened a little.
Kiyomi: What does that even mean?
He chuckled softly.
Minato: It means I think about you more than I think about them.
And before I could say anything, he reached out — his fingers brushing mine gently, like we had on Tuesday.
But this time, he didn't stop. He took my hand and held it. Firmly.
The warmth from his skin spread through me like a quiet promise.
We didn't say anything after that. We just walked — hand in hand, the world shrinking to just the two of us.
Even if people stared, even if the whispers followed us like shadows, I didn't care.
Because for once, the space between us didn't feel empty anymore. It felt like home.
(Akio's POV)
I watched them leave through the classroom window — her laughter soft, his calm smile steady beside her.
Something in my chest sank, heavy and unrelenting.
I didn't hate them. I just hated how easily everything changed.
How one week could turn friends into strangers and rumours into truths people wanted to believe.
I turned to where Hinata used to sit, but she wasn't there anymore. She'd left already.
And suddenly, I realized what Asahi meant — about losing people before you even get to say goodbye.
Because maybe… I was losing her too.