Makoto slammed his hand against the wall. He didn't say any word—his eyes only glared straight to the boy's face. Burning with anger, maybe even sadness.
"What's wrong with you?!" The boy snapped, his voice cracking as Makoto held him firmly place, leaving no room to escape.
Still, Makoto didn't flinch. Didn't speak. Just stared. Quiet. Haunted.
The boy—Yukio—clicked his tongue, his frustration mounting. The air between them was thick, suffocating with unspoken words.
Yukio struggled against Makoto's grip, shoving at his shoulders with growing desperation. "Get off me!"
Something flicked in Makoto's eyes. He finally broke the silence, voice trembling, raw.
"Yukio, please!"
Yukio froze. The sound of his name cut through him like a knife. His eyes widened, softening in an instant—then dimmed with something bitter. Like he was about to cry but wouldn't let himself.
Makoto looked like he was choking on everything he wasn't saying. Like something inside him was fighting to surface, but the words were locked away too deep.
Yukio gritted his teeth,blinking hard before shoving Makoto back with all the strength his body could muster. "I already told you I'm fine!" He cried. "You can go hang out with your friends!"
Makoto stepped forward instinctively, wanting to say more—but Yukio had already turned away, putting distance between them with each step.
"Just leave me alone..." Yukio muttered, almost under his breath.
But Makoto heard it clearly—like it had been shouted straight into his chest.
He didn't follow. Didn't fight it. Just stood there... watching Yukio walk away.
Letting him go.
A muffled voice echoed in the back of his mind.
... io
Yukio!
He flinched, snapping back to reality.
He was no longer in the hallway with Makoto. He was seated at the long desk in the student council room—papers scattered around him. The weight of his own thoughts must have drowned out everything else.
To his mild surprise, Yugen—the student council president—was standing nearby, a puzzled look on his face.
"Are you okay?"
Yukio blinked hard, then quickly sat up straighter as he realized where he was.
"Y-Yes. I'm sorry, President Kaito," he said, bowing his head sincerely.
Yugen shook his head lightly. "It's okay. I guess you're just tired." He leaned back in his chair and sighed. "You can go ahead and rest. I'll take care of the rest."
Yukio's eyes widened. "What?" He perked up. "No! I can do this, Kaito-san..."
He was still speaking when Yugen gave him a sharp look—not cold, but serious. A look of recognition of knowing something without needing to say it aloud.
Yukio fell silent. He swallowed hard.
"Please," Yugen said, voice lower, gentler now. "You look like you haven't slept at all. Go and rest. Leave the work to Touya."
"But—"
Before he could argue, a hand gently patted his shoulder.
He turned to see Touya, the ever-reliable vice president, standing there with a calm expression.
"I'll take care of the rest," Touya said softly. "Just go and do what Kaito said."
Yukio hesitated at first. But the weight in his chest, the echo of a certain voice, and the growing ache behind it... it was too much.
He gave a small nod, set the papers down quietly, and left the room without another word.
Yukio wandered down the hallway, his footsteps sluggish and uneven, as if each one required conscious effort. His thoughts churned, emotions still raw from the memories he'd just relived. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push them down—bury them again.
But the world outside his mind didn't pause to let him recover.
Up ahead, a group of students loitered by the hallway, their voices echoing down the corridor in bursts of laughter and teasing. Right in the middle of it—bright, animated, like he had no care in the world—was Makoto.
Yukio's chest clenched involuntarily at the sight.
As he tried to pass quietly, one of the students playfully shoved his friend, sending the boy stumbling backward. He collided with Yukio.
Yukio nearly lost his balance, swaying dangerously for a moment—but he managed to catch himself before hitting the floor.
The boy turned, wide-eyed. "Ah—sorry!" His face paled when he recognized who he'd bumped into. "Oh, Kawaguchi-san!"
Yukio barely glanced at him. His face remained expressionless, eyes dull, distant.
He said nothing. No reaction. He simply straightened his back and resumed walking without a word.
The laughter behind him faltered for a beat.
Makoto, who had turned at the sound of the scuffle, locked eyes with Yukio for the briefest second.
It was enough.
Yukio looked... pale. Worn thin. Like he hadn't slept in days. And that follow look in his eyes—it wasn't anger.
It was an absence.
Makoto's hand twitched at his side, instinct rising, but Yukio didn't even break stride. He walked right past them. Past Makoto. Like he wasn't there.
Like he'd stopped existing.
There was an awkward pause among the group, silence hanging in the wake of Yukio's exit.
"Jeez," one of the boys muttered. "What's up with him?"
"He totally ignored you," another chimed in, nudging the boy who'd bumped into Yukio.
Makoto forced a grin, stepping in with a light chuckle, trying to dispel the tension. "I dunno, man. Guess he's in one of his moods."
The other laughed half-heartedly and went back to their banter, the moment fading as quickly as it came.
But Makoto didn't laugh again.
His eyes lingered on the end of the hall where Yukio had disappeared.
That look on his face...
Makoto's smile fell away.
He couldn't ignore it anymore.
Something was wrong. And he knew it wasn't just one of his moods.
See... I knew he'd be fine without me by his side. Yukio silently thought.
Makoto had even managed to steer the mood back to normal, as if nothing happened,—without slipping out of character for even a second.
He really is different. Yukio had always known that. Makoto was the type of person who could blend in with ease, always laughing, always talking, as if the world never pressed too hard on his shoulders.
Yukio was the opposite—quiet, withdrawn, like a shadow that followed behind him. That difference had only grown clearer since they entered high school.
And maybe... maybe that's why Yukio started pulling away. Maybe he felt like a burden, a loner clinging to someone who didn't need the weight.
He didn't want to drag Makoto down. So he disappeared from his side.
By the time those thoughts unraveled, Yukio found himself standing outside the infirmary door. The short walk from the dorm to campus had drained more from him than he expected—each step had felt heavier than the last, like his bones were filled with sand.
He pressed a hand against the doorframe for balance, then slowly pushed it open. The hinges let a faint creak. The room was dim and still, the sterile scent of rubbing alcohol hanging in the air. Empty.
Yukio stepped inside and shut the door behind him. He didn't bother with the lights.
Sunlight slipped through the blinds in thin straps across the tiled floor. He crossed the room sluggishly and collapsed onto the nearest bed, lying flag on his back as the mattress creaked beneath him.
His arm came up to shield his eyes. The light, however faint, was unbearable.
Only now did the pounding in his skull become impossible to ignore. Like drums beating behind his eyes.
"Tsk... headache..." He muttered, barely audible. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears—thin and worn.
He let out a slow exhale, trying not to think anymore.
Time passed without Yukio noticing. The dull throb in his head had eventually dulled into a numb haze, and his body had put into sleep.
Then—click.
The door opened again.
"Excuse me...?"
A voice—louder than it should be in a place like this—cut through the stillness. Yukio didn't stir, but the voice belonged to Renjiro, who stepped inside cautiously. His shoes scuffed lightly against the floor.
He approached one of the beds and, with a quick swipe, slid the curtain aside—only to freeze.
"Oh. Someone's here."
His voice dipped, the realization hitting a second too late. Embarrassment prickled at the back of his neck for being loud in a place clearly meant for rest. He started to turn away, about to leave the person in peace...
But then he heard it—a soft rustle of movement.
Yukio stirred.
His eyes blinked open, squinting at the golden-orange light now flooding in through the blinds. He hadn't noticed it before—how late it had gotten. The sun was beginning to set.
His body jerked up instinctively, panic flashing in his eyes.
Renjiro startled at the sudden motion. His shoulders jumped slightly, eyes wide—then they locked eyes with Yukio's.
For a beat, neither said anything.
Then Renjiro gave a weak, sheepish smile.
"H-Hi..." He murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
"S-Sorry for waking you up," he added, scratching his cheek, clearly guilty.
Yukio blinked, still adjusting, still not sure what was happening.
Yukio didn't wait.
The moment their eyes met, he shot up from the bed without a word. His feet hit the floor hard, and before Renjiro could say anything else—
"Excuse me!" Yukio muttered quickly, rushing past.
He yanked the infirmary door open and stepped out, then slammed it shut behind him with a loud click.
Renjiro stood frozen, blinking at the now closed door.
"... Okay," he muttered to himself, still processing what had just happened. His voice echoed faintly in the empty room.
Meanwhile, Makoto walked down the dorm hallway, bag slung over his shoulder, lost in thought. He barely noticed someone approaching until a voice called out to him.
"Hey—aren't you Kawaguchi's roommate?"
Makoto blinked and turned. A tall boy from the student council stood a few steps away, holding a folded sheet of paper.
"Yeah, I am," Makoto replied, a bit wary.
"Great. Can you give this to him?" The boy extended the paper. "He told me to pass it on—he needs it for tomorrow's meeting."
Makoto hesitated, glancing down at the page. "Uh, sure, but—"
Before he could finish, the paper was shoved into his hand.
"Thanks!" The boy called out casually, already walking away down the hall.
Makoto let out a quiet sigh, staring at the note. "Guess I have no choice."
Back at his dorm, he opened the door and stepped inside. To his surprise, the room was dim—and the bed across from his was already occupied.
He peeked over gently and found Yukio lying there, fast asleep. His expression was unreadable, but he looked... still. Tired.
Makoto stood there for a second, watching in silence.
Maybe he was tired, he thought.
He walked over to Yukio's desk and left the paper neatly on top. His fingers hovered a second longer than needed.
Guess I'll take a shower... and then go over my homework.
Night came.
After dinner, Makoto returned to the dorm room with a towel around his neck, hair still damp.
He paused in the doorway.
Yukio was awake now—standing by his desk, holding the paper.
His back was to Makoto, shoulders slightly stiff, fingers clutching the paper tighter than necessary.
Makoto blinked, caught off guard.
"Hey... you're awake," he greeted softly, trying to keep his tone casual.
Yukio didn't respond. He turned slightly, just enough to glance over his shoulder—his eyes unreadable.
Then silence.
Thick, awkward silence.
Makoto stood there, uncertain. The air between them felt heavier than ever.
Yukio still wouldn't look at him. His eyes stayed low, focused on the paper in his hands. But after a long pause, he spoke—softly, almost a whisper.
"... Thank you."
Makoto blinked.
He hadn't expected Yukio to speak to him. Not after the silence that had stretched on since that day. Not after everything that had gone unsaid.
"It was nothing," Makoto replied, managing a small smile. "He just asked me to pass it to you."
He stepped past Yukio, careful not to brush shoulders. Careful not to linger.
Yukio remained still.
Then, without another word, Yukio walked to the door, head down. His fingers brushed the knob. A pause—almost like he might say something else.
But he didn't.
He slipped out quietly.
Makoto stood in the center of the room, watching as the door slowly closed on its own with a soft click.
The silence returned.
It was never like this.
When did it start? When had that warmth turned to this cold distance?
Makoto sat down slowly at the edge of his bed, fingers clenching the blanket beneath him.
He remembered it so clearly—how close they used to be. Like brothers. Like a pair that couldn't be separated.
But because of one mistake... just one... he lost Yukio, just like that.
If it had been the old Makoto, he would've cried on the spot. Maybe thrown a tantrum. Maybe clung to Yukio's sleeve and begged him not to be mad anymore. Like when they were kids.
But now—
He let out a short laugh. Dry, almost bitter.
How silly. How stupidly dramatic he had been.
Yet even now, if he was given a chance to turn back time... he knew exactly what he'd do.
He looked over at his desk and pulled open the drawer. From inside, he took out a small, worn photo—a snapshot from better days.
It was the two of them at a theme park, grinning like idiots with ice cream in hand. Sunlight behind them. No pain.
Just happiness.
His fingers trembled as he stared at it. He brought it close, then slowly lay back on his bed, holding the photo against his chest.
"I miss those times..." He whispered. The words were shaky. Nervous. Almost afraid to admit out loud.
His eyes closed. His throat tightened.
And in the silence of the room, Makoto swallowed back the ache he hadn't shown in years.
The dining hall was quiet—eerily so.
Yukio pushed open the door, greeted only by the echo of his footsteps and the low buzz of a dying ceiling light. The long rows of empty tables stretched before him like a graveyard of missed meals. The doors to the kitchen were propped open, lights off inside.
Too late.
He sighed, one hand over his stomach as it growled in protest. A sharp ache was growing beneath his ribs.
There was no food, and no one. Not even the faint smell of dinner lingered. He turned around and made his way back down the corridor, mind heavy and body light from hunger.
But the last thing he wanted was to return to the dorm... not yet. Not if Makoto was still awake.
Just as he reached the bend in the hallway, another figure appeared, walking in his direction.
They nearly passed each other before the boy stopped abruptly.
"Oh!"
Yukio blinked at the sound, startled.
The student squinted as if trying to be sure. "You're... from earlier."
Yukio frowned, confused. He didn't recognize the boy. Had they met?
Renjiro noticed the look. He gave a sheepish laugh and scratched the back of his head. "Right—uh, sorry. I was the one in the infirmary earlier."
Infirmary?
Yukio's eyes flicked slightly, thoughts sifting through the haze of his earlier headache. Still, no clear image.
Renjiro caught with a knowing smile and lifted a hand in mock surrender. "Don't worry, I didn't expect you to remember."
"I'm sorry for waking you up," Renjiro added genuinely.
Yukio gave a faint shake of his head. "No, it's fine..."
He shifted his weight, clearly about to excuse himself, but—
"Wait—did you also miss dinner?"
Yukio's eyes widened slightly. How his he—
"I kinda missed it too," Renjiro chuckled, scratching his cheek.
"... Yeah," Yukio muttered, stomach growling on cue. "I overslept."
Renjiro's eyes lit up like he had a brilliant idea. "Then—how about we grab something from the convenience store?"
Yukio stared. Did he just ask to sneak out with a student council member?
He glanced out the nearest window—night had fully fallen. The thought of food was tempting... dangerously tempting.
Renjiro grinned like a mischievous child.
Yukio's stomach made another angry noise, louder this time.
"... Fine," he muttered, defeated.
Just across the dormitory, a few minutes walk, stand 24/7 convenience store, solely for the reason that students wouldn't have to leave the school premises.
The Solmere convenience store was quiet, save for the soft buzz of its fridges, and the gentle click of the automatic doors.
Fluorescent lights bathed the place in a sterile glow.
Renjiro exhaled as he stepped inside, stretching his arms. "Ahhh... cold air. Feels like heaven."
He turned into the nearest aisle. "What are you getting?"
Yukio hovered near the entrance, arms crossed. "Anything."
Renjiro poked his head from behind a shelf.
"Anything?" He lifted a neatly wrapped sandwich. "What about this?"
Yukio eyed it, then gave a slow nod.
Renjiro's grin widened. "Alright then!"
But he didn't stop there.
Within minutes, Renjiro had filled a small basket: sandwiches, three kinds of onigiri, a box of tune mayo rice balls, two bottled teas, melon soda, and—of course—ice cream.
Renjiro looked proudly at over flowing basket. "Yup. That's all. It's a little, but it's good enough."
Yukio looked in disbelief. You call that a little?!
They've reached the counter and paid a surprisingly large bill. Renjiro didn't even flinch—just thanked the clerk like it was a normal day.
Yukio quietly followed, arms carrying more than he expected, his hunger momentarily numbed by... whatever this energy was.
He didn't quite understand Renjiro.
But he didn't mind it.
Not long after, they reached the hallway just as the night deepened. The soft lights above casting long shadows on the walls.
Without warning, Renjiro stopped walking and turned toward Yukio, a half-eaten onigiri dangling from his mouth. "Mm—here," he mumbled, handing over the plastic bag stuffed with food.
Yukio instinctively reached out, catching it before it fell.
"Take all this. I gotta go!"
"What—?"
But before Yukio could finish, Renjiro had already spun around and taken off down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he vanished around the corner.
Yukio blinked. Just like that, he was alone again.
"... What the hell was that?" He muttered under his breath, staring down at the unexpectedly heavy bag.
By the time he returned to the dorm, the lights inside were dim. Makoto was already fast asleep, one arm draped lazily over his pillow. Soft, rhythmic breathing filled the quiet room
Yukio quietly shut the door behind him as he went inside, making sure not to wake him with any noise.
The following day, as usual, Yukio tended to his duties with quiet efficiency. Standing beside Yugen's desk, he held a folder of documents firmly—like a diligent secretary presenting his superior's daily schedule.
"All right," Yugen said, reclining slightly in his chair. "We'll bring this up with Touya later. It's better if I'm the one to explain it to the school director."
Yukio gave a small nod, already beginning to organize the papers back into order.
They were just about to wrap up their brief meeting when the door suddenly slid open with a loud clatter, jolting both of them.
Standing at the doorway was Renjiro.
"Yugen! Are you here?!" He called out, voice echoing in the room.
Startled, Yugen quickly stood. "What—Renjiro?!" He blurted. "What are you doing here?!"
Then, scolding out of reflex, he added, "And can you please knock next time? You can't just barge in like that—you'll end up breaking the door?!"
"Right... sorry," Renjiro replied with an awkward chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.
Yugen narrowed his eyes. "So, what's so important that you stormed in like that?"
Renjiro hurried over to the desk, placing both hands on its surface as if he were clinging to life.
"You've gotta help me! Kuroda-sensei's gonna murder me with his nagging! I can't take another lecture!"
Renjiro had the lowest score in history. If he doesn't make it up for the next exam, he'll have to do a remedial class.
Yugen let out a sigh, already exasperated. "I'd like to help, but I still have things to take care of."
"What?! You're abandoning me?!"
Yugen walked over to him with an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Ren."
Renjiro scowled but wasn't ready to surrender. He threw out his final weapon—the classic puppy-dog eyes. "Pleaaaase~"
"—That won't work either."
With a huff, Renjiro crossed his arms, pouting. "Cheapskate."
Yugen responded with a long, tired sigh.
Meanwhile, Yukio quietly watched the scene unfold. To see the famously composed and refined student council president banter like this was... unexpected.
Yukio blinked. This side of Yugen felt more relaxed, more human.
As the two childhood friends continued to bicker playfully, Yukio hesitantly spoke up.
"Um..." He began, drawing their attention. "You know him, Kaito-san?"
Renjiro's eyes lit up. "Oh! It's you again!" He said, clearly delighted.
"Huh? Again?" Yugen asked, glancing between the two.
"... Yeah. I know him," Yukio replied, a bit unsure.
"We met yesterday," Renjiro added.
"I see..." Yugen muttered before moving to formally introduce them. "This is Kawaguchi—he's the council secretary. And this troublemaker here is Koizumi Renjiro, my childhood best friend."
"Nice to meet you!" Renjiro said brightly, holding out a hand.
"Yeah... same," Yukio replied softly, accepting the greeting with a small nod.
Watching the two continued to argue, something suddenly popped into his head. Memories from the past kept resurfacing as he laid his eyes upon the two.
He had to admit, those were the times when he was the happiest. Just remembering it brought a smile to his face—small, but real.
He remembered that one rainy day in middle school—
—Makoto had forgotten his umbrella, so they ran under Yukio's together, laughing as their socks got soaked. Yukio had been annoyed at first, but when Makoto slipped on the wet pavement and dramatically yelled, "Damn it!", he couldn't help but laugh too—something rare from him even back then.
The same warmth ghosted in his chest now.
"Yukio?" Yugen's voice pulled him back to the present.
He blinked, realizing both Yugen and Renjiro were now looking at him.
"Sorry, I spaced out," Yukio said, straightening the papers in his hand to mask the flicker of emotion on his face.
Renjiro tilted his head. "You sure you're okay? You looked like you were about to cry or something."
Yukio's eyes widened slightly. "No," he said quickly, lowering his gaze. "Just... a memory."
Renjiro didn't press, but the brightness in his expression softened a little.
"Well, if it's a good one, I say hold onto it."
Yugen raised a brow at Renjiro. "Since when did you start talking like a philosopher?"
Renjiro smirked. "Since I got scolded into enlightenment by Kuroda-sensei."
Yukio couldn't stop the breath of laughter that escaped him. Just a tiny one. But Renjiro caught it—his eyes flicked to Yukio with surprise, then a smile that didn't force anything.