The alarm clock buzzes like it's mocking me.
I slam my hand down and groan. Mornings were never kind to me—but lately, they've felt like slow drownings. Another day. Another loop.
Wake up. Go to school. Try not to think about Tachibana. Fail. Go home. Repeat.
Dragging myself out of bed, I catch a glimpse in the mirror.
Dark circles. Lifeless eyes. I look like a ghost that forgot how to haunt.
I rub my face hard enough to feel something, throw on my uniform, and grab my bag. It feels heavier than it should—even though nothing's changed inside. Just like me.
"Yuuto, you're going to be late again!" my mom calls from the kitchen.
"I know," I mutter, grabbing a half-burnt slice of toast on my way out.
The walk to school isn't long, but it always feels like miles. Our school's split by the soccer court—first-years on one end, second-years on the other. Like two different worlds.To get to class, I pass that empty space in between.
Like the space between me and Tachibana.
Classes blur.
Teachers talk. Pens scratch. Chalk squeaks.
None of it sticks.
I just stare at the board, eyes half-focused, brain stuck somewhere else.
A familiar building. A familiar face.
Stupid.
My grip tightens around my pen like I'm trying to crush the thought away.
"Dude," Haruki leans over during math, whispering, "You look like someone unplugged your soul."
"Thanks," I mutter.
"You still thinking about her?"
I don't answer. I don't need to.
We eat lunch on the rooftop, like always. Haruki's rambling about some new game—I'm only catching bits and pieces. The wind is sharp today. It cuts across my face like it's trying to slap me awake.
I glance across the court again. That building. That stupid building.
Haruki sighs. "Man, you're hopeless. You gonna spend the whole year watching Tachibana-san from a distance?"
I manage a dry chuckle. "Maybe."
"Then at least make it less creepy." He stretches. "What if I set you up with someone?"
"Pass."
"Not even a maybe?"
"Still no."
He shakes his head. "You're torturing yourself. It's pathetic."
He says it casually—but it hits deeper than it should.
That night, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Haruki's voice won't shut up in my head.
Torturing yourself. It's pathetic.
He's not wrong. But he doesn't know why I can't let go.
A memory surfaces—one I keep trying to bury. But it always finds me when I'm tired enough to let it.
First year. Late spring.
The halls were empty after the final bell. I had a stack of papers to deliver. I thought I was alone.
Then he showed up.
Taller than me. Confident. Hair gelled like he thought he was the main character. Ren.No one ever said his name out loud, but everyone knew it.
He stuck his foot out just as I passed.
I stumbled. Papers flew everywhere. My knee hit the floor hard, but the sting barely registered.
The laughter did.
He crouched beside me, fake sympathy dripping from his voice."Watch your step, man. Gravity's tough when you're already at the bottom."
I said nothing. Just picked up the sheets with trembling hands.
Then I heard her voice.
"Stop it."
I looked up.
Tachibana stood a few steps away. Arms crossed. Eyebrows drawn in.
She wasn't smiling.
Her presence shrunk the hallway. Like she carried gravity herself.
Ren straightened, suddenly playing nice."Hey, Rina," he said, brushing a hand through his hair like he thought it mattered. "Didn't expect to see you here."
She didn't respond. Just walked past him, knelt beside me, and started gathering papers. Her hair brushed my arm. No hesitation.
"You okay?" she asked, voice calm. Like she'd done this before. Like I wasn't invisible.
I couldn't speak. I just stared.
And then—she smiled. Just a little.
The first time anyone ever looked at me like I mattered.
But then Ren kept talking.
"You know, Rina, if you ever get tired of babysitting strays, I could show you a real good time."
I waited for her to shut him down. Say something. Anything.
She didn't.
She gave a soft laugh. Not fake, not real—just… something in between.
"Maybe next time," she said, walking away with unreadable calm.
Ren smirked. Walked the other way like he'd already won something.
And me?
I stood there, stuck between two versions of her—one who helped me up, and one who walked away.
Back in bed, I turn toward the wall, chest tight.
I thought staying away would make it easier. That the feelings would fade.
But all I've done is dig deeper.
I want to forget Tachibana.
I do.
But more than that...
I want her to forgive me.
For what I did. For what I was. For what I still am.
If it meant she'd forgive me, I'd let her scream at me. Hit me. Hate me.
Because the truth is—
I have to face her.
No matter what it takes.