The classroom buzzed with the low hum of fans.
Outside, the summer sun was relentless — heat shimmered on the window glass, and the air carried the faint scent of chalk and dust.
Haruto leaned back in his chair, half-listening as their homeroom teacher announced club deadlines.
His gaze drifted to the open window, where a cicada clung to the frame, crying as if it had something urgent to say.
Across the room, Aoi was sketching again, her pencil tapping softly in rhythm.
She wasn't drawing for class — just doodling lines that only she seemed to understand.
When the bell rang, everyone stood up too quickly, chairs scraping.
Aoi stayed seated, flipping her sketchbook shut with a small sigh.
Haruto waited by the door.
"You okay?" he asked.
She smiled, though her shoulders looked a little tired. "Just a bit warm. My brain feels like it's melting."
"Then maybe we should get some air," he said without thinking.
Aoi blinked, then laughed softly. "Are you inviting me to escape class?"
"Just the heat," he replied, looking away.
---
They ended up walking through the courtyard, where the sunlight filtered through the trees in broken patterns.
The sound of running water came from the small fountain in the center — a quiet, cool contrast to the heavy afternoon air.
Aoi crouched by the edge of the fountain and dipped her fingers in.
"It's cold," she said, smiling. "Feels nice."
Haruto watched as a droplet slid down her wrist and fell back into the water.
Something about the moment — the way her reflection rippled in the surface — made him feel like the world had slowed down a little.
> It's strange, he thought.
I used to think quiet moments meant nothing. But lately, they feel… full.
---
They sat on a nearby bench in the shade.
A group of students passed by with popsicles from the vending machine, laughing about something that didn't really matter.
Aoi leaned back, her head tilted toward the sky.
"Do you ever think about how fast things change?" she asked suddenly.
Haruto glanced at her. "Sometimes. Why?"
She smiled faintly. "I was just thinking… this time last year, I was obsessed with getting everything perfect — every drawing, every grade. But now…"
She trailed off, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Now, I think I just want to remember things properly. Even the boring ones."
Haruto looked down at his hands. "I get that."
She turned to him, curious. "You do?"
He nodded. "I used to spend so much time trying not to stand out — just getting through each day. But… now I want to notice things. Even if it's small stuff. Like how you always hum when you draw."
Aoi blinked, caught off guard. Then she laughed, softly embarrassed. "You noticed that?"
"Hard not to," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.
---
The silence that followed wasn't awkward — it felt… shared.
Like they'd both said something without needing to explain it.
Aoi pulled her sketchbook from her bag again, flipping to a fresh page.
"Then, let's make a deal," she said lightly. "You notice things. I draw them. Fair trade?"
Haruto smiled. "Only if I get to see the drawings."
"Deal," she said, holding out her pinky in mock seriousness.
He hesitated — then hooked his with hers.
Her hand was cool from the fountain, and his heartbeat quickened in that quiet, confusing way he couldn't quite name.
---
That evening, Haruto sat by his window, a soft breeze drifting in.
He thought about the small deal they'd made — how childish it sounded, yet how right it felt.
> She makes things simple, he thought.
Not because they're easy… but because she makes them feel possible.
He looked out at the fading sky and smiled to himself — a quiet, unguarded smile that no one else saw.