Miyu sat at her desk, her notebook open but untouched. The teacher's words washed over her like static. All she could focus on was him—the boy sitting only two rows away.
Ever since that night, Haruto's presence had been unbearable. Every time his voice filled the room, she felt the memory of her trembling body ignite.
She tried to keep her distance, keep her head low… but Haruto wasn't blind.
After class, he leaned against her desk casually, arms folded. His smile was lazy, but his eyes studied her carefully.
"You've been acting kinda weird lately, Miyu."
Her heart skipped. She clutched her pen tighter. "W-Weird? N-No, I'm fine!"
He smirked. "Really? Then why do you keep turning red every time I talk to you?"
Her eyes widened. She whipped her head down, letting her hair curtain her burning cheeks. "Th-That's not true!"
But Haruto leaned closer, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "You even avoid looking me in the eyes now. Did I do something to you?"
Miyu's throat tightened. She couldn't breathe.
He's too close… he's too close… if he knew what I was thinking—what I did—!
At lunch, it only got worse. Haruto sat across from her, resting his chin on his hand as he watched her struggle to eat.
"You're spacing out again," he teased. "Don't tell me you're thinking about me that much."
The chopsticks in her hand froze.
Her face flared so violently her whole body shook. "H-Haruto-san! Y-You can't just—say things like that!"
He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "So I am right?"
She nearly choked on her rice. Her friends glanced at her in confusion, but Haruto only leaned back with a grin, satisfied at her flustered reaction.
When classes ended, Miyu tried to escape quickly. But at the shoe lockers, Haruto caught up to her again, walking beside her as if it were natural.
"You know, it's kind of cute," he said softly.
Her steps faltered. "Wh-What is?"
"The way you fidget whenever I'm around. Like you're hiding something."
Miyu's breath stopped.
Her legs trembled under her skirt, thighs pressing together instinctively. Hiding something. The words hit her like a blade.
She forced a shaky laugh. "Y-You're just imagining it."
But Haruto's grin only widened as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Am I, though?"
And just like that, Miyu realized—her guilty little secret wasn't safe anymore. Haruto was circling closer, and her own reactions were betraying her at every step.
The library was silent. Dusty sunlight cut through the tall windows, spilling across rows of forgotten shelves.
Miyu stood between them, clutching a book she hadn't even opened. Her plan was simple: hide here, breathe, and calm down before she embarrassed herself again.
But the sound of footsteps ruined her fragile peace.
"…So this is where you've been hiding."
She spun, startled. Haruto leaned against the shelf, arms crossed, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.
"H-Haruto-san! I-I wasn't hiding!" she stammered, clutching the book tighter.
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as though they shared a dangerous secret. "You sure? Lately, you look like you're running from me."
Miyu's knees locked. Her chest rose and fell faster. He noticed… again.
"N-No! I just… I just wanted to study!"
Haruto tilted his head, amused. He reached past her shoulder, his arm brushing her sleeve as he plucked a random book from the shelf behind her. She froze at the proximity, his warmth seeping through her skin.
"So nervous," he murmured. "You know, people will start thinking you like me if you keep reacting this way."
Her whole body burned. "T-That's not true!" she whispered back, panicked.
Haruto leaned down, his lips close to her ear. "Then why are you shaking right now?"
The book slipped from her hands and fell to the floor with a soft thud. Miyu's heart thrashed in her chest.
He caught her gaze, holding it captive. His grin softened into something sharper, more mischievous. "See? You can't even look me in the eye without trembling."
Miyu swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. "Y-You're being mean…"
"Am I?" he teased, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingertips lingered at her cheek, the gesture far too intimate for the public setting. "Or maybe I just like watching you blush."
Her back pressed against the shelf as if trying to escape, but Haruto was already close enough that she could smell his faint cologne, feel his warmth.
"…We shouldn't—someone might come," she whispered, desperate.
Haruto chuckled lowly. "Then keep your voice down."
Her breath hitched. The world outside the little aisle seemed to vanish, leaving only Haruto's closeness, his teasing, and the terrifying thrill running down her spine.
She tried to slip past him, but he shifted, blocking her path with an arm against the shelf. Their faces were only inches apart.
"Miyu," he whispered, his tone suddenly softer. "What are you hiding from me?"
Her lips parted, trembling. She couldn't answer. Couldn't confess. The memory of that night—the shameful way she had touched herself—burned through her mind.
"I-I'm not hiding anything…"
But Haruto only smiled knowingly, leaning even closer until his breath tickled her ear.
"Then prove it."
Miyu's breath came shallow, fast. The library was too quiet, every heartbeat echoing in her ears like a drum. Haruto's words—Then prove it—still clung to the air, hot and heavy.
Her lips parted, but no sound came. His gaze pinned her in place, sharp yet playful, as though he already knew everything she tried so desperately to hide.
Her chest burned. Her thighs clenched without her permission. Stop… stop… I can't let him see…
"Haruto-san…" Her voice cracked, weak.
He tilted his head, waiting, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. His arm was still braced above her, caging her against the shelf. "Well?" he pressed softly, his tone a velvet trap.
Something inside Miyu snapped.
With trembling hands, she shoved at his chest—not hard, but enough to startle him. His eyes widened as she ducked under his arm, nearly stumbling as she ran down the aisle.
"Miyu—!"
She didn't look back. Her footsteps echoed between the shelves, quick and uneven, until she burst out of the library doors into the hallway.
Her face burned, her lungs gasped for air. Why? Why does he make me feel like this?
She clutched her chest, her whole body shaking. The memory of his closeness wouldn't fade—the warmth of his breath near her ear, the way his eyes seemed to see too much.
"Idiot…" she whispered to herself, though she wasn't sure if she meant Haruto or her own traitorous self.
Back in the library, Haruto remained standing in the quiet aisle. His hand slid down from the shelf, a small laugh escaping his throat.
"That reaction…" he muttered, running a hand through his hair, amused. "Miyu… what are you hiding from me?"
But in his chest, curiosity sharpened into something heavier. The way she fled wasn't ordinary shyness—it was desperation. And Haruto knew that kind of desperation came from secrets worth chasing.
Miyu, meanwhile, leaned against the wall outside, pressing her thighs together as though she could erase the trembling. Shame and heat tangled in her chest. She wanted to disappear. She wanted to forget.
And yet, in the deepest corner of her heart, she craved him even more.