[Rina's POV]
Rehearsals were running smoother than ever. Ren delivered every line like he was born for the stage, and Miyako nailed her role as the wicked witch—her smirk could chill the whole room. They were exactly the kind of people I liked working with: dependable, focused, precise. No slacking. No excuses.
Everyone was where they were supposed to be.
Everyone except him.
Takahashi hadn't shown up once in the last three days.
The first day, I told myself he was probably helping his own class. The second, I figured maybe he had too much on his plate. But by the third, during lunch break, my patience cracked.
I left my bento untouched and walked the halls, scanning every classroom I passed. The stairwell, the library, even the corners behind the gym. No sign of him.
Finally, I headed to his classroom. Empty.
"Looking for someone?"
I turned to see Nakamura-kun balancing a clipboard and a roll of tape.
"Nakamura-kun. Have you seen Takahashi?"
He gave me a look that was way too knowing. "You haven't?"
"That's why I'm asking," I snapped, though my voice cracked slightly.
He walked up to me, expression unreadable. "Tachibana… he's avoiding you."
The words hit me like a slap. "What?"
Nakamura-kun leaned against the wall. "He's been off ever since… that thing with Ren. You didn't notice?"
"But I never told him to stay away."
"Exactly. You never told him anything. So he got the message—or he thinks he did. You didn't chase him. You didn't ask him to stay."
I swallowed hard. "I thought I was giving him space."
"Or maybe you were scared. But he doesn't know that. All he knows is you stood there. Quiet."
My heart thudded.
"Is that what he told you?"
Nakamura-kun shook his head. "No. He didn't say a word. But Yuuto's ot that hard to read. I've known him too long. He disappears when he thinks he's not wanted."
Guilt wrapped around my ribs as I turned away, fingers tightening.
He took a breath, softening his tone. "He'll come back. He always does. He's weak to certain things."
"Weak to… what?"
He gave a half-smile. "You. Saying his name. Asking him to stay. Looking at him like you used to."
He pushed off the wall, walking away.
"He held on when no one else did," he said over his shoulder. "Don't make him regret it.
I stood in the empty hallway, the silence pressing in.
This time, I knew exactly where I needed to go.
---
[Yuuto's POV]
The wind whipped across the rooftop, tugging at my hoodie as I leaned on the railing, eyes lost in the sky.
Three days.
Three days without seeing Tachibana-san.
Three days of pretending I didn't care.
Three days of going to class, skipping rehearsal, trying not to think about the way she stepped in front of me that day—like a shield. Like a wall.
Her eyes never met mine.
My hand—shaking. Useless.
I wanted to disappear. I did. Thought it would hurt less that way.
But standing here now, with the wind scraping against my skin, I don't feel lighter. Just hollow.
"Skipping again, Yuuto-kun?"
I didn't turn. "You sound more disappointed every time."
Miyu stepped beside me, arms crossed. "That's because it's getting pathetic."
I let out a low, tired breath. "Then go. I didn't ask you to come."
She didn't move. "You're not mad at Ren. You're mad at yourself."
My jaw clenched.
"I saw your hand that day," she said quieter now. "I saw the way you looked at her—like she was everything and you were nothing."
I closed my eyes.
"You keep saying you want to change," Miyu went on, sharper, "but the moment things get hard, you shut down. Run away."
"I didn't run."
"Really?" she snapped. "Then why are you up here instead of down there?"
"It's better this way."
"Why? Because Ren's everything you're not?"
I stayed silent.
She scoffed. "She never asked for a prince. She wanted you, Yuuto-kun. But you don't even know what that means anymore, do you?"
My hands tightened against the railing.
"What she needs… is someone better. Someone like Ren. Not a loser like me," I muttered almost to myself.
"You're not a loser," Miyu said flatly, "but you sure act like one."
I laughed bitterly. "I tried. I showed up. I said sorry. That was enough."
"Then why are you still here?"
I looked back at the sky, eyes dull. "Because I realized… she was never meant to be mine."
There it was—laid bare. A quiet surrender disguised as logic.
Miyu wasn't buying it.
She stepped in front of me, voice rising. "Seriously? You're hiding up here like some kicked puppy? You think moping around makes you deep? Like it somehow proves how much you care?"
I didn't respond.
"You apologized. She forgave you. So instead of stepping up, you vanish? What—did you expect a medal? A confession? You don't even try."
"You act like you're this tragic side character," she said, voice cracking slightly—not pity, frustration. "The only reason you're stuck in the background is you keep putting yourself there."
I gritted my teeth. "You don't understand—"
"No, you don't understand," she stepped closer, eyes locked on mine. "You think this is noble? Walking away so she can be with someone 'better'? It's not noble. It's cowardly. You're just scared."
I finally looked at her.
"Scared that if you stay," she said, voice low, "you'll find out you actually matter to someone. And you won't know what to do with that."
I exhaled shakily. She was right.
That was the worst part.
"If you're gonna give up, then fine," Miyu said, turning toward the door. "But don't pretend you did it for her. You did it for you. Because it's easier to be forgotten than to be chosen."
She paused, hand on the door handle.
"Just know this—cowards don't get the girl," she said without looking back. "They just sit here and watch someone else hold her."
The door slammed behind her. Silence settled again. Deafening this time.
I stared at the spot she'd just stood in.
And slowly, painfully, I stood up.
My heart is still a mess. My thoughts, worse.
But my feet move anyway.
Because for once… I don't want to run.