The next day, Yuuji arrived at the library ten minutes early. Not because he was eager to see Ren—he told himself that more than once—but because he wanted to control the space. If he was going to endure another three afternoons of forced proximity with the school's most annoying transfer student, he would do it on his terms.
The dust mop was already in the corner. The cart of returned books was half-full. The light from the high windows was soft, filtered by passing clouds. Everything felt in order.
Until it wasn't.
"Wow," came a lazy voice from the entrance, "I was almost impressed. You beat me here. You must really like me."
Yuuji didn't even glance over his shoulder. "Or I simply take responsibility seriously. You should try it sometime."
Ren chuckled, the sound low and too close. "Where's the fun in that?"
Yuuji straightened a book on the return cart, spine lined perfectly against the others. "Fun isn't the point."
Ren leaned against the table, folding his arms. "That's kind of your whole problem, isn't it?"
Yuuji turned slowly, eyes narrowing. "My problem?"
"You act like the world's a checklist," Ren said. "Get perfect grades. Sit in the same seat. Be the model student. But what happens when you miss a box? What happens when things don't go exactly how you planned?"
Yuuji hated that he didn't have a quick answer to that.
Instead, he reached for the book Ren had set down. An Introduction to Classical Japanese Poetry. The cover had a fresh smear of red ink on the edge.
He held it up. "Did you seriously mark up a library book?"
Ren looked—oddly—unapologetic. "It was boring."
"It's not yours to vandalize."
"It's a book," Ren replied. "It still works. The words are the same."
Yuuji inhaled sharply. "You think that gives you permission to leave your mark on everything you touch?"
Ren's gaze changed. There was something unreadable behind it now—not humor, but something heavier.
"I didn't ask to leave a mark," he said softly. "Some things just... stick anyway."
The silence between them stretched. A moment passed where neither of them moved. Rain tapped against the windows like a whisper.
Yuuji looked away first. "You should be more careful with what you stain."
Ren smiled faintly. "Maybe. But maybe some things need to be stained. Otherwise, how do you know they've been touched?"
Yuuji didn't respond. His fingers lingered on the spine of the marked book, still holding it tightly, as if it might explain something he didn't yet understand.
They worked separately for a while after that, not speaking, but something in the air had shifted. It wasn't the same biting tension as yesterday. It was quieter, subtler. Like two magnets on the same table—still far apart, but inevitably aware of each other's pull.
As Yuuji reached up to shelve a thick volume, the ladder beneath him shifted ever so slightly. A sharp wobble. His heart lurched.
"Whoa—careful!" Ren was suddenly there, steadying the ladder with both hands.
"I'm fine," Yuuji snapped, breath short.
Ren looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "You're not immortal, you know."
Their eyes locked. Too long. Too close.
Yuuji climbed down quickly, brushing past Ren without a word, his face a touch too warm for comfort.
Outside the library, Ren lingered by the doorway, watching Yuuji disappear down the corridor with that same perfect posture.
He pulled a pen from his pocket and spun it between his fingers.
"Still boring," he muttered to himself. But he didn't look convinced.
--