he hallway between wings was unusually empty. Afternoon light streamed in through tall stained glass windows, scattering fragments of color across the floor. Students' voices faded into the distance as Mika and Kuro walked side by side, a rare pocket of quiet in the academy.
"You're slow," Mika muttered, hands tucked in his pockets. "Keep up, or you'll fall behind again."
Kuro matched his pace, lips quirking into a small smile. "You didn't have to wait for me."
Mika glanced at him, eyes sharp, though there was a flicker of something else—something softer. "If I didn't, you'd get lost."
[Oh, please.] Elvastia groaned in Kuro's mind. [He's not worried about you getting lost. He's worried about some bastard finding you. Gods above, Kuro, how do you not see that?]
{Maybe I do see it,} Kuro replied, warmth spreading in his chest.
They turned a corner, and Mika stopped abruptly. Kuro nearly bumped into him, his tray clattering faintly against his side. Mika's arm shot out, bracing Kuro by the shoulder before he could stumble.
"Watch where you're going," Mika said sharply. But his hand lingered a second too long on Kuro's shoulder, his grip firm, steady. His eyes, pale and unreadable, studied Kuro's face as though searching for cracks.
"I'm fine," Kuro said softly, holding his gaze. "You didn't have to catch me, but… thank you."
[Oh, this is rich. Just kiss already and save me the headache,] Elvastia grumbled.
Mika withdrew his hand quickly, stuffing it back into his pocket as if burned. "Don't thank me. Just stop being careless."
But Kuro noticed the faint flush that brushed Mika's ears, the tightening of his jaw as he looked away.
They resumed walking. The silence between them was heavy, not uncomfortable but charged, like the air before a storm. Kuro could feel Mika's presence beside him—every step measured, every glance weighed and hidden.
"Mika," Kuro said suddenly, his voice steady though his chest fluttered. "When you told me not to embarrass you… you were really saying you didn't want me to get hurt, weren't you?"
Mika stopped walking again, his body stiffening. Slowly, he turned his head, eyes narrowing in warning—but his silence said more than words.
[Oh, shit. He's cornered. He hates being seen through. This is good—push him, Kuro. Do it!]
Mika finally spoke, his tone low, almost harsh. "Believe whatever you want."
Kuro's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. {Then I'll believe you care.}
For a heartbeat, Mika froze, his mask cracking just slightly. The faintest smile—not cold, not mocking, but real—tugged at his lips before he turned away again.
"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, walking faster. "Don't say things like that."
Kuro followed, his heart racing but steady. Behind the swearing and complaints, he felt Elvastia's silence for once—not mocking, not nagging, but almost… approving.
And that silence was louder than anything.