The classroom smelled like chalk and worn-out textbooks. The kind of smell Aki Yoshino didn't mind—it reminded him of routine, of structure, of things that didn't change. Unlike his body. Unlike his memory.
He slipped into the back row by the window—his seat since the start of the semester. From here, he could watch the trees sway, count how many students snuck snacks, and most importantly, keep to himself.
Today was a group activity.
He hated group activities.
The teacher clapped her hands at the front. "Alright, pick a partner. You'll be working on this literature project together. Due in two weeks."
Chairs scraped. Voices filled the room. People paired off quickly—like magnets drawn to familiarity.
Aki didn't move.
He was halfway into pulling out his notebook when someone dropped into the seat beside him, completely uninvited.
"Yo."
He looked up.
Messy hair. Wide smile. Baggy uniform.
He'd seen him before—Takamine Haru, the loud guy who always ran in late and still managed to make the whole class laugh.
"I'll be your partner," Haru said, grinning like they were old friends.
Aki blinked. "Why?"
"'Cause everyone else already paired off and you looked lonely," Haru said casually, then leaned forward. "And also… you always look like you're thinking about deep stuff. Makes me curious."
Aki's lips tightened, but he said nothing.
Haru reached over and flipped open Aki's notebook without asking. "What do you usually write in here, huh? Journal? Love poems? Murder plots?"
Aki grabbed it back, his eyes sharp. "Don't touch my stuff."
Haru blinked. Then smirked. "So you can talk."
Aki rolled his eyes and looked away, hoping that was the end of it.
But Haru didn't leave.
Instead, he stretched his arms, yawned, and said, "Cool. We're gonna be a great team, partner. Let's meet at the library after class. I'm failing, so you better carry us."
"…Tch."
He should've been annoyed. He should've switched partners.
But for some reason…
He didn't.
That night, Aki opened his journal.
> "Today I got paired with Haru Takamine.
He talks too much.
He also smiled at me for no reason.
I hope I don't forget him first."
He closed the journal.
Outside his window, the wind picked up.