The morning sun spilled into the classroom, lighting up dust motes that floated lazily in the air. Itsuki sat at his desk, head propped on one hand, his notebook open but untouched.
The seat beside him scraped back.
"No sleeping in class already, right?" Noa's voice was light, teasing. She placed her bag down and smiled at him, her energy filling the space as naturally as always.
Itsuki glanced at her and tried not to smile, but failed. "It's still morning. Isn't that illegal?"
Haruta leaned over from the row behind them, grinning wide. "Illegal? Bro, with the way you look right now, you need a doctor, not a lawyer!"
Noa laughed, shaking her head. "You're impossible, Haruta."
"I try," Haruta said proudly, before leaning back into his chair, clearly pleased with himself.
The teacher hadn't arrived yet, so chatter buzzed around the room. Noa pulled a pen from her case, twirling it absentmindedly. She looked sideways at Itsuki.
"You've been spacing out a lot lately," she said softly, so Haruta couldn't interrupt. "What's on your mind?"
Itsuki hesitated. The shadows of last night tugged at him—the chalk circle, the fingerprint—but looking at her made it harder to answer.
"…Nothing worth worrying about," he muttered.
She tilted her head, studying him. Then, with a mischievous smile, she leaned a little closer. "Liar."
Itsuki felt heat rise in his face and quickly looked away, pretending to scribble in his notebook. Noa chuckled and let it go, turning her attention back to her notes.
But the warmth of that small moment lingered.
For the first time in a while, Itsuki felt the weight inside him lift—just a little.
And as Haruta whispered another dumb joke behind them about Itsuki and Noa being "an old married couple already," even Itsuki couldn't help it—he laughed.
After School
The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in warm orange. Students streamed out of the gates, scattering down the streets.
Haruta peeled off to his club, leaving Itsuki and Noa walking side by side.
Noa stretched her arms above her head, sighing. "Finally. I swear that math class was an actual torture session."
Itsuki smirked. "You say that about every math class."
"Because it's always true," she shot back, grinning.
They walked in step, their shoes scuffing against the pavement. Noa talked about a new café she wanted to try, her words bright and animated. Itsuki mostly listened, but his quiet smiles didn't escape her notice.
At one point, she slowed down, bumping his shoulder gently with hers. "See? I knew you could smile. Told you I'd drag it out of you."
Itsuki blinked, a little caught off guard, then shook his head. "You're annoying."
"Thanks," she said with a laugh, unbothered.
The road stretched ahead, glowing under the evening sun. And for a fleeting moment, Itsuki let himself enjoy it—the ease, the laughter, the quiet pull of something he couldn't quite name.