The art room was quiet after school — sunlight slanting across the desks, the faint hum of the ceiling fan cutting through the stillness.
Haruto sat by the window, sketchbook open, pencil tracing faint lines across the page. He was working on the new backdrop design — a sunrise scene with soft pink skies and a figure standing on a hill. His brow furrowed slightly as he adjusted the shading, oblivious to the world around him.
He didn't notice Aoi until her reflection appeared in the glass beside him.
"Hard at work again?" she said, leaning over his shoulder.
Haruto nearly dropped the pencil. "A-Aoi! You scared me."
She smiled, resting her chin on her hand. "You scare easily."
"I was… focused," he mumbled.
"Mm," she hummed, circling behind him. "You're always focused. It's cute."
He froze at the word cute. His ears went red instantly.
Aoi smirked. "Did I hit a weak spot?"
He shook his head too quickly. "N-no, it's just… I'm not—"
"You blush so easily," she interrupted, poking his cheek lightly. "It's like a switch."
Haruto sputtered, trying to regain composure. "You're enjoying this."
"I am," she said, without shame. "You make it too easy."
She sat down beside him, close enough that their elbows brushed. Haruto stiffened, his pencil hovering midair.
"Relax," she said softly, voice teasing but low. "I don't bite."
"...You might," he muttered under his breath.
Her eyes gleamed. "What was that?"
"Nothing!"
Aoi leaned back in her chair, watching him sketch again. "So this is the sunrise scene?"
He nodded quickly, grateful for the change in subject. "I thought it should symbolize… hope. Like how the paper airplane in the first act rises again after falling."
Her expression softened. "That's… beautiful."
He blinked. "Really?"
She nodded. "You always make things look softer than they are."
He smiled shyly, looking down. "It's just what I see."
"Then you see the world better than most people," she said, resting her chin on her palm again.
For a while, they just sat there — the sound of pencil on paper filling the space between them.
Then Aoi broke the silence again, voice laced with amusement. "You know, you've drawn everyone in the group except me."
He froze. "That's not true."
"Yes, it is," she said, tapping her nail against his sketchbook. "I've seen Suki, Ryuzí, even Kenji. But not me."
Haruto hesitated. "You… make me nervous."
Aoi raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I mean, not in a bad way! Just… you notice everything. It's hard to draw someone who looks straight through you."
Aoi tilted her head, a smirk curving her lips. "That's almost poetic."
"I didn't mean—"
"Draw me," she said suddenly.
He blinked. "What?"
"Draw me," she repeated, leaning closer. "Right now."
"I—uh—Aoi, I don't think—"
She cut him off, voice dropping to a soft murmur. "You said I make you nervous. So I want to see what that looks like on paper."
Haruto swallowed hard. "You're teasing me."
"Maybe," she said. "But I'm serious. Draw me."
He hesitated, but her gaze held him there — steady, sharp, and strangely irresistible. He sighed, flipping to a blank page. "Fine."
She smiled and straightened in her chair. "Good boy."
That didn't help his composure at all.
He tried to focus on the lines — the shape of her jaw, the slope of her neck, the faint curve of her lips. But she didn't make it easy.
Aoi tilted her head slightly, her gaze locked on him. "You're staring too hard."
"I'm supposed to," he said quickly.
She smirked. "You're blushing again."
"Stop pointing it out."
"I can't help it. You're cute when you're flustered."
He groaned softly, pencil shaking a little. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," she murmured. "But you're still drawing me."
He tried to ignore her, shading carefully. But then she shifted — crossing one leg over the other, leaning forward, voice dipping low near his ear.
"You look so serious when you're concentrating," she whispered. "Makes me wonder what else you look like when you focus that hard."
Haruto's hand froze. "A-Aoi—"
She pulled back, smiling sweetly. "Relax. I'm just teasing."
He exhaled shakily. "You'll give me a heart attack."
"Then my work here is done."
Fifteen minutes later, he turned the sketchbook toward her.
Aoi blinked. The drawing wasn't perfect — a little rough around the edges — but it caught something she didn't expect. Her usual sharpness was gone; instead, her eyes looked soft, almost vulnerable.
"That's… me?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "How I see you."
Aoi's throat tightened. For once, she didn't know what to say.
She traced the edge of the page with her fingertip. "You made me look… kind."
"You are," he said softly. "You just don't show it much."
Her heart skipped a beat. "You shouldn't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because I might start believing you."
The silence that followed was heavier now, but not uncomfortable. Just charged — like the air before rain.
Aoi broke it with a small laugh. "You really are dangerous, Haruto."
"Me?" He looked genuinely confused. "You're the one teasing me."
She leaned closer again, smiling faintly. "Exactly. And somehow, you're still the one making me nervous."
Haruto blinked. "That's… new."
Aoi laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Don't get used to it."
But even as she said it, she didn't move away. Their shoulders were almost touching now, the soft rhythm of their breaths syncing without them realizing.
Haruto swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. "Aoi…"
She tilted her head, pretending to be unaffected. "Hmm?"
"I like spending time with you."
That one sentence hit harder than it should have. Her teasing faltered — just for a heartbeat.
Then, because it was the only defense she knew, she smiled again. "Careful. You might make me obsessive."
Haruto blinked. "Obsessive?"
"Mm," she said, eyes glinting. "I don't share well."
He laughed nervously. "That's… okay?"
"Good answer," she murmured, her grin small but undeniably pleased.
As they cleaned up the art room later, the rain started again outside — light, steady, rhythmic against the windows.
Haruto was stacking paint jars when he noticed her staring at him again. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she said, still watching.
"You're staring," he said.
"You stared first," she countered.
He smiled faintly. "Then I guess we're even."
Aoi walked over, closing the distance. "Not yet."
She reached up suddenly, straightening his glasses with gentle fingers. "There. Now we're even."
Her touch lingered a second too long.
Haruto's breath caught. "…Thanks."
Aoi smiled. "You're welcome."
They stood there for a moment, just watching the rain blur the world outside the glass.
Aoi didn't know when she started feeling it — this strange pull whenever she was around him. He wasn't like the others. He didn't push, didn't hide behind bravado. He just saw her. And that was dangerous.
Because when someone saw her that clearly… she couldn't help wanting to keep them close.
Maybe too close.
Later that night, Haruto sat at his desk, flipping through his sketchbook. Between pages of backdrops and props, one drawing stood out — Aoi, smiling faintly, her eyes soft.
He touched the edge of the page and smiled.
Across town, Aoi lay on her bed, phone in hand, staring at his contact name. Her finger hovered over the message icon for a long minute before she finally typed:
Aoi: Don't stay up too late drawing. You'll ruin your eyes.
A few seconds later, his reply came:
Haruto: I won't. Thanks, Aoi.
Aoi: …Good.Sleep well.
She hesitated, then added another line.
Aoi: You belong to our group now. Don't forget that.
Her phone buzzed again.
Haruto: I won't.
Aoi smiled faintly, tossing her phone onto the bed.
Under her breath, she murmured,
"Good. Because I'd never let anyone take you away anyway."
The rain outside deepened — steady, endless — like a quiet heartbeat no one else could hear.