Ren didn't think much of it when he agreed to introduce Kaito and Aoi.
It felt harmless — something between friends. After all, Kaito was one of his closest buddies, and Aoi… Aoi was still someone he cared about deeply, even if he couldn't return her feelings.
At least, that's what he told himself.
"Don't make it weird, alright?" Ren said the next morning, when Kaito brought it up again by the shoe lockers.
Kaito laughed, throwing an arm around his shoulder. "What, me? I'm just trying to make friends."
"Yeah, sure," Ren muttered. "Friends."
He didn't know why his chest felt heavy when he said that.
It happened during lunch.
Ren waved Aoi over from across the courtyard. She looked a little surprised — she hadn't eaten lunch with him since the confession. Still, she came over, her steps careful, her smile small but polite.
"Kaito wanted to talk to you," Ren said. "You remember him, right? From the soccer club."
Kaito stood beside him, smiling with that easy confidence that always made people comfortable.
"Hey," Kaito said. "We've seen each other around, but I figured it's weird not to actually know each other."
Aoi hesitated for a second before smiling softly. "Yeah, it is. Nice to officially meet you."
And just like that, something shifted.
Ren watched them talk — first about school, then about music, then about things he didn't expect Aoi to open up about so easily.
Kaito was funny. Effortless. The kind of guy who made people laugh without trying. And Aoi… she laughed too. A genuine laugh that made Ren's stomach twist for reasons he couldn't explain.
He tried to join the conversation a few times, but somehow, he always ended up just listening — like an outsider in his own story.
When the bell rang, Kaito grinned. "We should all hang out again sometime."
Aoi nodded. "Yeah, that'd be nice."
Ren forced a smile. "Sure."
But deep down, a quiet ache began to take root.
Weeks passed, and Kaito and Aoi grew closer. It started small — exchanging notes in class, helping each other study, walking home together sometimes.
Ren noticed every little thing.
How Aoi's phone lit up more often during breaks.
How she smiled at messages she didn't show anyone.
How she stopped joining him on the walk home, always saying she had something else to do.
He never asked.
He didn't have the right to.
But the silence between them grew louder every day.
One afternoon, Kaito pulled Ren aside after practice.
They were sitting on the bleachers, the sky a fading orange.
"Hey," Kaito began, looking a little nervous for once. "Can I tell you something?"
Ren leaned back. "You sound serious."
"I am," Kaito said, rubbing his neck. "It's about Aoi."
Ren's chest tightened instantly. "…What about her?"
Kaito hesitated. "I think I like her."
Ren said nothing. The world seemed to pause for a moment.
He had known this was coming — deep down, he'd felt it long before Kaito ever said it. But hearing it out loud still hurt in a way he couldn't explain.
"You're quiet," Kaito said, trying to laugh.
Ren forced a small smile. "Just surprised. Didn't expect you to catch feelings that fast."
Kaito shrugged. "Yeah, I didn't either. But I'm serious about it."
Ren nodded slowly, pretending to be fine. "Then go for it."
"You sure?"
"Yeah," he lied. "She deserves someone who makes her smile like that."
Kaito grinned, relief washing over his face. "Thanks, man. You're a real one."
Ren smiled back, but his heart felt heavy.
A week later, Kaito confessed to Aoi.
She said yes.
It wasn't because she had fallen for him — not yet. It was because she was tired of hurting. Tired of waiting for someone who had already moved on. Maybe, she thought, dating someone kind and caring like Kaito would finally help her forget.
And for a while, it seemed to work.
Ren watched from the sidelines as the two grew closer.
They laughed together in the hallways, shared drinks after practice, and sometimes even sat under the big cherry tree near the school gate — the same place where Ren and Aoi used to hang out after classes.
He tried not to think about it, but every time he saw them, it felt like something inside him was breaking slowly, quietly.
He smiled when Kaito talked about her. He nodded, he laughed, he pretended it didn't matter. But at night, when he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her smile kept haunting him.
Why did it bother him so much?
Was it regret? Or jealousy? Or something in between?
He didn't have an answer.
One Friday evening, Ren stayed late after practice. The school grounds were nearly empty, the sky deep blue and fading.
He sat alone on the steps behind the gym, trying to clear his mind. That's when a soft voice broke the silence.
"You're still here?"
He looked up to see Miyu — a senior from the art club. She was known around school for being mature, confident, and a little intimidating.
Ren gave a faint smile. "Yeah. Couldn't sleep, so I stayed back."
She sat beside him, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Rough week?"
"You could say that."
"Girlfriend trouble?" she asked casually, though her tone was kind.
Ren laughed quietly. "Not exactly."
"Hmm," she said. "You look like someone who's thinking too much."
He smiled faintly. "You're not wrong."
They talked for a while — about school, life, even about Kaito's soccer matches. She had a calmness about her, the kind that made it easy to open up.
For the first time in weeks, Ren laughed genuinely.
When they finally stood to leave, Miyu smiled softly. "You know, Ren… you should stop blaming yourself for things you can't control."
He blinked. "How did you—"
She shrugged. "Just a guess. You look like someone who carries too much."
She started walking toward the gate, then turned back with a small smile.
"See you around, Ren."
That night, for the first time in a while, Ren didn't dream about Aoi.
But the next morning, when he saw Aoi and Kaito walking to school together — their hands almost brushing, their laughter filling the air — the ache returned, sharper than before.
He told himself he was fine. That he had to be fine.
So when Miyu invited him to grab lunch after practice that week, he said yes.
And when she confessed to him two weeks later, under the same fading sunset, he didn't hesitate this time.
Maybe, he thought, this was how moving on was supposed to feel.
Even if deep down, he knew — he wasn't moving on at all.