The school felt different after classes ended.
The hallways were dimmer, softer — the kind of quiet that made every footstep sound like a secret.
Haruto had stayed behind to help the library club finish sorting new books, though he wasn't a member. Aoi had asked, and he couldn't bring himself to say no.
The sun hung low outside, golden light stretching across the library shelves like spilled paint.
"Stack these on the cart, please," Aoi said, her voice muffled by the stack of books she was carrying.
Haruto took them from her before they could tip. "You always overestimate how many you can hold."
Aoi laughed, brushing her bangs away. "I get impatient. I like seeing things done all at once."
"That's not how the world works," he said, half-teasing.
She grinned. "That's why I draw instead. Paper listens better than people."
Haruto raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
She hummed, pretending to think. "Well… maybe one person listens better than paper."
He looked up from the cart, and for a second their eyes met — not long enough to make either of them look away, but long enough to make the air feel a little thicker.
---
When they finished, Aoi plopped down at one of the reading tables.
Her sketchbook appeared like it always did, as naturally as breathing.
"Don't tell me you're drawing again," Haruto said, half-smiling as he sat across from her.
"Hmm. Not drawing. Remembering," she said, pencil tapping lightly on the page. "You said I should notice things, right?"
He chuckled softly. "I said you told me to notice things."
"Well," she said, looking up with a playful glint, "then I guess we're both keeping the deal."
---
The library light flickered a little — old fluorescent bulbs that hummed quietly, like they were trying not to interrupt.
Outside, the sound of rain began to tap against the windows. The smell of dust and paper filled the air.
"Great," Aoi sighed. "And I didn't bring an umbrella."
Haruto glanced at his bag. "I did."
She blinked, surprised. "You? I thought you always forget stuff like that."
He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Maybe I'm learning."
Aoi tilted her head, her eyes softening. "You've really changed, you know that?"
Haruto didn't answer right away. He just looked at her — not with confusion, but quiet acceptance.
Maybe he didn't need to say anything.
---
The rain got heavier.
They waited together near the school gate, the umbrella between them. The world outside was washed in silver light and sound — the kind that made everything else blur.
Aoi leaned slightly closer so they could both fit under the umbrella.
"You ever notice how rain makes everything quieter?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah. Like the world's catching its breath."
She smiled at that. "Exactly."
A droplet rolled from the umbrella's edge and splashed at their feet. Haruto glanced sideways — she was watching the sky, her expression soft, calm, unguarded.
> Maybe that's what I like about her, he thought.
She looks at ordinary things like they matter.
And somehow… they start to.
---
When they reached the intersection, Aoi stopped. "You live the other way, right?"
"Yeah," he said. "You sure you're fine from here?"
She nodded, still smiling. "Yeah. Thanks for walking me."
Haruto hesitated for a moment, then said, "Hey… if you're free this weekend — there's a summer art exhibit downtown. I heard the Art Club submitted some pieces."
Aoi's eyes brightened. "Oh! You want to go?"
He looked away, scratching his cheek. "I mean—only if you want to."
She giggled. "Then it's a date—ah, I mean, an outing. An art outing."
He blinked, flustered. "You don't have to call it—"
But she was already waving goodbye, walking backward with that same mischievous grin.
"I'll message you!" she said, turning as the rain softened into a drizzle.
---
Haruto stood there for a moment, umbrella still open, the sound of rain fading into the distance.
> "An art outing," he muttered, smiling.
But his chest felt warm all the same.