It started with a rumor.
Whispers flitted through the hallways like cherry blossoms caught in a gust of windlight, fleeting, but impossible to ignore. It began in Class 3-A. Someone claimed Miyako confessed her feelings in the hallway near the vending machines. Someone else swore Haruki rejected her flat-out, cold as ice. By second period, students were whispering behind textbooks. By lunch, half the school thought they'd broken up.
Miyako heard it all as she walked toward the back of the school courtyard, where Haruki always waited with their lunch. The whispers didn't sting they tickled. Like bad comedy.
She found him sitting beneath the maple tree, legs crossed, their matching bento boxes already unwrapped.
"Apparently, we're living in a K-drama now," she said, dropping her bag beside him and plopping down with exaggerated flair.
Haruki raised a brow but didn't say anything. His fingers idly pushed the rice around his lunch. His lips were pressed into a thin, unreadable line.
Miyako frowned, nudging his arm. "Hey, lighten up. You confess once, and suddenly we're in the mid-season finale."
Haruki didn't laugh.
His silence hit different.
"You okay?" she asked, her tone softening, leaning in closer. "Or did I actually ruin your street cred by liking you?"
He didn't meet her eyes. Instead, he stared down at the tamagoyaki she made for him bright yellow, a little uneven, but cut into hearts.
"I hate how people turn everything into entertainment," he muttered.
His voice wasn't cold, just... distant. Like he wasn't angry at anyone in particular just tired.
Miyako's brows drew together. "I don't care what they think," she said, bumping his knee gently with hers. "Do you?"
Finally, he looked at her. His eyes usually sharp and unreadable had softened. The weight he carried behind them lifted, just a little.
"No," he said, almost a whisper. "Not really. I just... want to be the kind of person you deserve."
Her breath caught in her throat.
"Haruki…"
He exhaled slowly, like the words had been trapped behind his ribs for far too long.
"I've never said it out loud," he added. "What you said. The L-word."
"You don't have to," she said quickly, heart thudding. "You really don't. I didn't say it to force you"
"But I want to."
That stopped her. Froze her thoughts mid-sentence.
Haruki set his chopsticks down with quiet finality. He turned to fully face her, folding his hands together in his lap like he needed to anchor himself before the world shifted beneath them.
"I love you, Miyako."
No theatrics. No swell of music or grand gesture.
Just four words. Whispered like a promise.
Her heart thudded once. Then again. Then it lifted, rising like steam off warm rice.
She stared at him for a long beat. Then blinked. Then laughed a bright, beautiful sound that made his chest ache.
"I'm going to frame this day," she declared, voice light but eyes shimmering. "Get it printed on a pillow. A poster. Maybe a billboard."
He chuckled, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. "Please don't."
"I will. I'll get your face photoshopped next to your quote and everything."
"Do you want people to think we're gross?"
"They already do," she said smugly.
They both laughed this time open, unguarded, the kind of laughter that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed out the tension.
And for a moment, the world shrank to the size of their little table beneath the maple tree. Just two bentos. Two hearts. One quiet moment blooming in the noise.
But the quiet didn't last long.
Later that afternoon, the school's intercom crackled to life, and a too-chipper voice rang out across the courtyard.
"Attention all students! The psychology elective's 'Relationship Dynamics' presentations will take place this Friday during general assembly. All project partners are expected to present. No exceptions. Please prepare accordingly!"
Miyako stopped mid-step in the hallway.
Haruki, walking beside her, groaned audibly.
Their project partners hadn't changed. Which meant…
Haruki and Mina.
Miyako and Ren.
Onstage. Together. In front of the entire school. Talking about "relationship dynamics."
"Oh my god," Miyako muttered. "They're going to eat this up."
"Like vultures," Haruki agreed grimly. "Armed with popcorn."
The irony wasn't lost on either of them. After all, the rumor mill was already on fire. Now the school was basically setting up bleachers for the fallout.
"Ren's going to be unbearable," Miyako added, dragging her hands down her face. "He lives for drama."
Haruki didn't respond immediately. He stopped at the base of the staircase, waiting until the hallway emptied around them. Then he reached out and took her hand.
His touch was steady. Reassuring.
"We'll get through it," he said.
His voice wasn't dramatic or filled with resolve. It was quiet. Certain. Like an anchor in the rising tide.
She squeezed his fingers in return. "With sparkles and sarcasm."
He smiled, and something about it made the knot in her stomach loosen.
For a brief second, the anxiety was eclipsed by warmth.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, their hands clasped solid against the storm they knew was coming.
Thursday, After School
The classroom was nearly empty by the time Miyako and Ren got together to finalize their slides.
"So," Ren said, spinning a pen between his fingers. "Are we still pretending, or are we being real?"
Miyako blinked. "What?"
"The presentation," Ren said, smirking. "Do we talk about fake feelings, or the real ones? Because there's a very big difference."
She sighed. "I don't even know anymore. The lines are so blurry they're practically watercolor."
He leaned back in his chair. "Let me guess. Haruki confessed?"
Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know that?"
"I see things," he said, smug. "Also, I sit next to Yuki and she has the gossip radar of a war general."
She rolled her eyes but didn't deny it.
Ren tilted his head. "So? You okay?"
Miyako paused. Then slowly nodded. "More than okay."
He grinned. "Good. Then we'll just fake confidence during the presentation and hope the audience doesn't notice we're emotionally exhausted."
"Sounds like a plan."
Friday Assembly Hall
The stage lights were blinding. The entire school was packed into the auditorium. Rows upon rows of faces some curious, some bored, some already whispering.
Haruki stood off to one side with Mina. She was rambling about her talking points. He wasn't listening. His eyes were on Miyako.
She looked calm. But he saw the way her fingers fidgeted at her skirt hem. The way she took a deep breath just before the mic was passed to her.
He felt his chest ache.
Not because of fear.
Because of pride.
She stood up straight and began to speak.
"Relationships aren't always about grand moments," Miyako said. Her voice echoed clearly through the mic. "Sometimes, they're built in between the cracks. In quiet places. Over bentos and sarcasm."
The room laughed softly.
She smiled.
"Sometimes, what starts off as a fake project… becomes something real."
Eyes turned toward Haruki.
He didn't flinch. Instead, he raised his hand and gave her the smallest, softest wave.
And Miyako brave, brilliant Miyako waved back.
Later, Behind the Stage
She found him standing by the curtains, hands in his pockets, eyes unfocused.
"You were incredible," he said before she could speak.
"So were you."
He turned to her.
"I meant it, you know," he said.
"Which part?"
"All of it. But especially the L-word."
She stepped in closer. "Me too."
He looked at her, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Then he leaned down, just enough to rest his forehead against hers.
They stayed there. No words. Just warmth.
Outside, the auditorium buzzed with noise.
But here together they bloomed in silence.