It started raining during third period, but neither of them made it back to class.
Rika had yanked on Yuu's sleeve after lunch, dragging him down the back stairwell. He didn't argue. By now, he'd learned there was no point resisting her chaos. She was gravity, pulling him into strange places, strange feelings, and he was too tired—or too curious—to fight it anymore.
They ended up behind the gym, sheltered beneath a wide metal overhang, where the walls were cracked and no one ever checked for truants. Rika sat on a rusted bench with her knees up, her skirt a little damp at the hem, the soft hiss of rain filling the silence between them.
"God," she groaned, stretching out her legs. "Math was gonna kill me today anyway. Might as well die cozy."
Yuu leaned against the wall beside her, arms crossed. His uniform was neatly buttoned, always was. He didn't say anything. Just listened to the rain tapping rhythmically on the metal roof.
She pulled out a disposable vape, flicked it once, and exhaled sweet, artificial strawberry.
"You gonna report me?" she asked, tilting her head at him with a half-smirk.
"No."
"Didn't think so." She took another puff, eyes half-lidded. "You're too chill for that. Or too numb. Still can't tell."
Yuu looked away.
She scrolled through her phone, thumb flicking lazily across the screen. "You ever Google yourself?"
He gave her a look.
"I did. You're boring. But your Insta? Your old one? That's a different story."
He tensed. His voice came out low. "Don't go through my stuff."
"It's public. Relax." She turned the phone around, showing him a grid of old photos. Crisp, full of warmth and texture—sunlight streaming through trees, a girl laughing by the river, blurry festivals and quiet city corners. The username was @kurose_snap.
"You used to be really into this, huh?"
"I don't use it anymore."
"No shit." She tilted her head. "But, like, why'd you stop?"
Yuu's eyes dropped to the floor. He swallowed.
"Does it matter?"
She didn't tease him like usual. Didn't laugh. Just studied his face for a moment and nodded to herself, like something clicked.
He expected her to pry, but instead, she leaned back, phone in hand, and said, "Take mine."
"What?"
"My phone. Take it." She handed it over. "Snap a picture of me."
"I don't—"
"You don't have to make it good," she said, cutting him off. "Just… I dunno. You've got that look. Like you see stuff differently."
He hesitated. His fingers brushed hers as he took the phone.
Rika stuck her tongue out and threw up a peace sign. "Go on."
He aimed the phone and tapped the shutter once.
Click.
She peeked at it. "Ugh. I look like a raccoon."
Yuu gave the phone back. "Then don't ask me to—"
"Try again. C'mon. I want a 'Kurose Special.'"
Yuu sighed, but this time, something in him stirred. An instinct long buried. He took the phone again, adjusted the angle, waited for the light to shift just slightly, and snapped another. And another.
By the fifth shot, he'd forgotten they were using a phone. He saw it—the way her eyes caught the gray light, the contrast between her bubblegum style and the wet concrete behind her. The pink in her hair was muted by the clouds, but still vivid. Still alive.
Click. Click.
She grinned without posing.
That one, he thought, might've been perfect.
"You're smiling," she said, suddenly.
He blinked.
"You just smiled," Rika repeated, softer this time. "Like, for real."
He touched his face. "I didn't mean to."
"You should do it more."
He didn't respond.
The rain kept falling. She leaned her head against the wall beside him, close enough he could smell her vanilla perfume under the strawberry vape. Neither of them said much after that.
But something had changed.
That night, for the first time in years, Yuu found himself reaching into his closet and pulling out a dusty camera bag.
He wiped it clean.
Charged the battery.
And wondered what it might feel like to see the world through a lens again.