The art room was quiet, the scent of oil paints and graphite lingering in the air. Aika sat at her usual desk, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of her sketchbook, staring at the drawing she hadn't meant to create.
Riku.
Alone.
His figure was hunched slightly, his bangs damp and sticking to his forehead, his expression distant and unreadable. The way the rain poured around him, the way his shoulders seemed heavier than usual—it wasn't just a drawing. It was him. The way he had looked that day when he thought no one was watching.
Her pencil trembled slightly as she traced over one of the lines.
Why was she drawing him like this?
Why couldn't she picture him the way she used to—laughing, carefree, teasing her without a care in the world?
She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against the desk.
I'm overthinking it.
That's all this was. A bad habit. Her mind turning shadows into something bigger than they were.
And yet…
Something inside her refused to let it go.
---
After School
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the pavement as students poured out of the school gates. Aika adjusted the strap of her bag, lost in thought as she walked toward the entrance.
She wasn't expecting to hear his voice.
"Oi, Aika!"
She turned just in time to see Riku jogging up to her, his usual lazy grin in place.
"Walk home with me?" he asked, his tone light and casual, as if it were nothing special.
Her heart skipped, just for a second.
She wanted to say no.
She wanted to tell him she was busy, that she had things to do, that she didn't want to spend another moment trying to decode the expressions he hid too well.
But she also knew she'd regret it if she did.
"…Fine," she muttered, falling into step beside him.
The cool breeze rustled through the trees as they walked. The air still smelled fresh from the rain the day before, a faint reminder of the moment she had seen him sitting alone, lost in thought.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn't the same easy quiet they used to share either.
Aika stole a glance at him.
He looked… fine.
Like always.
And that was the problem.
She could feel it now—the subtle difference in the way he carried himself. The way his fingers curled slightly, as if suppressing a tremor. The way his laughter had a slight delay, like he had to remind himself to react.
Aika bit her lip.
She had two choices.
Ignore it. Let him pretend. Let herself pretend.
Or—
"…Are you okay?"
The words left her lips before she could stop them.
Riku blinked, caught off guard, before he let out a chuckle. "What, are you my mom now?"
Aika frowned. "I'm serious."
His grin faltered for a split second—so fast that she almost thought she imagined it.
Then, just as quickly, he was back to his usual self, stuffing his hands into his pockets, tilting his head toward her with a smirk.
"I'm fine, Aika. You worry too much."
Her chest tightened.
Liar.
She knew it. She felt it.
But what was she supposed to do? Call him out? Demand an answer he wasn't willing to give?
She exhaled, turning her gaze forward. "Tch. Whatever."
Riku let out a low chuckle. "Wow, that's cold. And here I thought we were friends."
She rolled her eyes. "Friends don't lie to each other."
For a moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Then, he smiled—smaller this time, softer. Almost… sad.
"…Yeah. You're right."
Aika stopped walking.
That wasn't the answer she expected.
That wasn't a Riku answer.
Her lips parted, but before she could say anything, he stretched his arms over his head and yawned dramatically, shaking off whatever moment of honesty had just slipped through.
"Anyway! Enough about me." He bumped her shoulder playfully. "What about you? Any new masterpieces in the works?"
Aika narrowed her eyes. "Don't change the subject."
"Who, me?" He placed a hand over his heart, mock offense in his tone. "I would never."
"Riku."
He smirked but didn't answer.
Aika sighed.
She hated this. Hated how he dodged. Hated how he turned everything into a joke. Hated that she could see past it now.
Hated that there was nothing she could do.
---
Late at Night
Aika sat at her desk, sketchbook open, pencil hovering over the page.
She should be sleeping.
But her mind wouldn't let her rest.
Her gaze drifted to the drawing she had made earlier.
Riku in the rain.
Her fingers traced over the details, the weight in his posture, the shadows beneath his eyes.
She reached for her pencil and began shading again, adding depth, sharpening the lines, trying to capture the feeling that wouldn't leave her.
The more she worked, the more uneasy she felt.
It was too accurate.
Too real.
Like her hands had drawn something her mind wasn't ready to admit.
She put down the pencil, her hands trembling slightly.
Something wasn't right.
Something was wrong.
Aika exhaled shakily and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
She hated this.
This feeling of knowing something was slipping through her fingers, something she couldn't name, something she couldn't fix.
She shut her sketchbook and pushed it aside.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, she'd try again.
Maybe she was wrong.
Maybe she was imagining things.
Maybe—
But the doubt wouldn't leave.
And neither would the quiet, gnawing fear that by the time she figured everything out…
It would already be too late.