They walked toward the cafe, a fragile, unspoken understanding hanging in the air between them. They ordered their drinks and settled into a quiet corner booth. The conversation began as a slow, careful dance of small talk—about school, about the unseasonable weather, about everything except what had just happened.
Mika was trying to hold on to the feeling she had on the street, the sense of a shared secret with the last person she ever expected. But the longer the silence stretched, the more her fear began to creep back in. This was what she was bad at—the comfortable, easy part. The vulnerability of simply existing with someone without a plan.
Leo, in his usual straightforward way, saw the change in her posture. He saw the way she was pulling back, her tsundere defenses returning. He decided to be direct, to stop the retreat before it became a full-blown rout.
"I just have one question," he said, his voice quiet. He wasn't trying to be confrontational, just honest. "When you said 'Fine' back there, you didn't mean it, did you?"
Mika flinched, her body tensing. His question, so simple and direct, felt like an accusation. He thinks I'm a liar. He thinks I was playing games. The old wounds of her past rejection, the humiliation of being seen as insincere, flared up instantly. She didn't have the courage to tell him the truth—that she had been terrified and had lashed out because of her fear.
"What's it to you?" she snapped, the words sharper than she intended. "What do you care what I meant?"
Leo was taken aback by her sudden hostility. He had simply asked a question, trying to clear the air, to avoid making assumptions. The old scars on his heart throbbed. He had done this before, tried to be honest and was met with anger and confusion. He felt his own defenses rise.
"I'm just trying to understand," he said, his voice hardening. "I don't play games."
"And you think I do?" she retorted, her voice low and furious. "I'm not the one with the reputation for being a fake. You act like you don't care about anything, you don't study, you make a joke out of everything. And now you want to know about me? Don't make me laugh."
Her words hit him like a physical blow. He had spent his whole life hiding his passions and his pain behind that very mask, and she had seen right through it, only to use it as a weapon.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," he shot back, his voice flat with cold fury. "Just because I don't follow your rulebook doesn't mean I'm fake." He stood up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. "And at least I have the guts to say what I mean instead of just storming off."
Mika's face went from angry to a wounded pale. Her lie was exposed, her biggest fear confirmed. He didn't understand. He didn't see. He was just another person who thought her pain was a game.
Without another word, she grabbed her bag and stormed out of the cafe, the bell on the door jingling loudly behind her, shattering the fragile peace they had so briefly found. He watched her go, the anger draining from him, leaving only the familiar ache of being misunderstood. The coffee sat untouched between them, a silent testament to another failed attempt.The universe, however, had other plans for them.
The following Monday, their English teacher, a kind but oblivious woman named Ms. Reynolds, announced a new, semester-long project on character analysis.
"You'll be working in pairs," she said, pulling names out of a small jar. "Your partner for this project will be..."
Leo's heart sank as he heard his name. He was used to being on his own, or with friends who would let him do all the work. When he heard Mika's name called as his partner, he let out a barely audible sigh.
Mika froze. Her face, which had been a mask of nonchalant cool, went completely blank. Her mind raced, a whirlwind of panic and a strange, undeniable spark of something else. She had spent the last two days trying to forget him, and now she was trapped with him for an entire semester.
The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Leo watched as Mika meticulously packed her things, taking her time. He knew this was her way of avoiding him. He had his own ways of doing the same. He just slung his backpack over his shoulder and started to leave.
But he heard her voice, strained and formal, behind him. "We should... exchange numbers. For the project."
Leo stopped and turned. Her face was a study in carefully managed emotion. She held out her phone, not looking at him. For a moment, he considered just walking away, but the straightforward part of him knew they had to get this over with. He pulled out his own phone and they exchanged numbers in a sterile, silent transaction.
"I'll... message you later," she said, her voice a little higher than usual.
"Okay," he replied.
And they walked in opposite directions, the distance between them feeling both impossibly vast and nonexistent, now that they were tethered by a school project and a past they couldn't speak of.