WebNovels

Chapter 20 - Old Wounds, New Shadows

Ren wasn't just watching Haruki.

He was studying him. Testing him.

It started subtly almost innocently. A comment here, a question there. Asking to borrow Haruki's notes with an easy smile that never quite reached his eyes. Sitting a little too close to Miyako during group assignments, leaning in as if their shared answers required whispers and lingering glances.

At first, Haruki ignored it. Shrugged it off. But even the strongest glass shows hairline cracks under pressure.

"Funny thing about fake relationships," Ren said one afternoon, tapping his pencil against his notebook absently during their club meeting. "Sometimes… they turn real. But that doesn't mean they last."

Miyako rolled her eyes so hard they nearly hit the ceiling. "That's deep, Shakespeare."

But Haruki didn't laugh.

He'd been watching, too. Not Ren but Miyako. The way she stiffened for a half-second before brushing off Ren's comment. The way her smiles were slower now. Smaller. The way their shared silence had started to shift no longer warm and easy, but cautious. Measured.

It wasn't about trusting her.

It was about not trusting himself.

Not trusting the way doubt curled in his chest like smoke. The way insecurity whispered you're not enough for her in the quiet hours of the night.

The real blow came that Friday.

Everyone had just settled into their seats when Mr. Takahashi clapped his hands at the front of the class. "New project starting today! For the next two weeks, we're diving into relationship psychology. And what better way to understand it than by experiencing it?"

A few groans sounded across the room. One boy muttered, "Isn't this illegal?"

Mr. Takahashi laughed. "You'll be working in mixed pairs to explore how communication builds trust in romantic dynamics. Strictly academic. Think of it like an acting exercise with extra homework."

Haruki sat up straighter. Please not Ren. Anyone but Ren.

Names were drawn from a hat.

"Miyako Tachibana," the teacher called first.

She sat up, hair falling over one shoulder as she waited.

Then: "Ren Saito."

The room went dead silent.

Haruki's stomach dropped like a stone.

Miyako turned to him instantly, her eyes wide not apologetic, not guilty just worried.

Haruki forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach his eyes. "It's fine."

But it wasn't.

And she knew it.

Haruki ended up with Mina.

A pairing that would've been fine a few months ago before the rumors, before the shift, before Miyako.

Now, it was like trying to write a poem on torn paper.

Their first meeting was awkward. They sat across from each other in the library, surrounded by quiet murmurs and the faint scent of old paper. Mina barely spoke. She scribbled notes into her planner with stiff movements, her hair tucked behind her ear, refusing to meet his gaze.

Haruki tried small talk. It fell flat.

Finally, as they packed up their materials, Mina broke the silence.

"You don't have to pretend it doesn't bother you."

Haruki blinked. "What?"

She looked up, her dark eyes steady. "Watching her laugh with him. Seeing her get close to someone else. Even if it's an act."

He hesitated. "It's… a project."

Mina gave a sad little smile. "So was mine, once."

He frowned.

"I liked you," she continued softly. "Still do, a little. But I think what hurts more than losing you… is realizing someone else gets to know the version of you I never got to meet."

Silence.

Haruki felt the words land like pebbles on water small but rippling outward.

He bowed slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said, closing her notebook. "Just don't waste it."

That night, the rain returned.

The kind of rain that whispered secrets to the pavement. The kind that drenched the city in nostalgia.

Haruki sat on the porch of his house, hoodie up, watching the droplets dance on the wooden railing. The air smelled like petrichor earth and quiet.

His phone buzzed.

Miyako: "Don't freak. But I might've agreed to let Ren walk me home to 'study communication techniques.'"

He stared at the screen.

For a moment, his heart screamed.

Then he typed:

Haruki: "Okay."

There was a pause.

Then:

Miyako: "Okay?"

Haruki: "I trust you. Even if I don't trust him."

The typing bubble appeared. Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Then

Miyako: "You're a better boyfriend than I deserve."

Haruki stared at the message, hands cold.

Then:

Haruki: "No. I'm just scared of losing you."

He set his phone down.

No reply came.

Not for ten minutes.

Not for twenty.

He leaned back against the porch wall, trying not to let the silence swallow him whole.

But then

Footsteps.

Then the gate creaked open.

Miyako stood there, soaked from head to toe. Rain clung to her hair and clothes, dripping down her cheeks like glass beads.

She didn't speak.

Just walked up the steps slowly.

Then, without a word, she wrapped her arms around him tight, trembling.

"I told him to get lost halfway through the walk," she murmured into his chest.

Haruki blinked. "You're drenched."

"You didn't come get me," she whispered, voice shaking just a little.

"You said not to freak."

"You always freak."

He pulled her closer.

"You always come."

Her breath hitched.

"Then hold on tighter," she whispered.

So he did.

So tightly it felt like he could hold back time. Like the storm couldn't touch them if he just kept his arms around her long enough.

The next day at school, everything had shifted.

Not on the outside. The whispers still followed them. The rumors still buzzed.

But inside, Haruki was calmer. Still unsure. Still scared.

But steadier.

Miyako approached her project with Ren like it was a game of chess. She kept distance. She controlled the tempo. She threw up enough sarcastic walls to build a fortress.

Ren, however, was persistent.

"Do you always push away everyone who tries to know the real you?" he asked her during their third session.

"I let people in," she replied coolly, scribbling in her notebook. "Just not snakes."

He smiled. "Snakes are misunderstood creatures. Clever. Careful. Loyal to those who matter."

"I'm not looking for loyalty from a snake."

He leaned in, eyes sharp. "No. You're looking for safety. And you think Haruki gives you that."

She froze.

"You think you're the dangerous one," Ren whispered. "But you're not. He is."

Miyako stood up so quickly her chair nearly tipped. "We're done for today."

She didn't look back.

Later, she found Haruki in the music room.

He was alone, fingers hovering over the keys of the old piano. He wasn't playing anything just… thinking.

Miyako leaned against the doorway.

"He said you were dangerous."

Haruki didn't turn. "I probably am."

"No," she said quietly. "You're scared. And kind. And… broken in the exact way I understand."

He looked up at her then.

"You think you're protecting me," she continued, stepping into the room. "But I never needed protection. I needed someone who wouldn't walk away when I got ugly. When I got difficult. When I stopped pretending."

"I haven't walked away," Haruki said softly.

"No," she whispered. "You've stayed. Even when I made it hard. Even when I wasn't sure if I deserved it."

He turned on the piano bench to face her fully. "You do."

Her throat bobbed.

Then, slowly, she crossed the room and sat beside him.

"Then play something," she said. "So I don't forget what it sounds like when you're here."

So he did.

A quiet melody. Uneven. Raw.

But honest.

In the days that followed, things remained complicated.

But they were together.

And that made all the difference.

Because no matter how many shadows Ren cast, or how many old wounds re-opened, Haruki and Miyako were learning something new:

Trust wasn't built in grand gestures.

It was built in small choices. In showing up. In staying. In rain-drenched porches and quiet piano rooms.

And sometimes, in holding tighter when the world tried to pull you apart.

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