The school was buzzing harder than a kicked beehive.
Every hallway echoed with hammering, shouting, and frantic rushing—props being dragged around, costumes being sewn, lights being tested. No one was calm. Not a single soul.
Me included.
Between fixing the wiring for the Class 1-S1 Karaoke Battle Room and helping the drama club with their Snow White play, I'd barely had time to breathe. And Haruki and Miyu were absolutely no help—they were chaos personified.
Haruki leaned over the mic stand, frowning like it owed him money.
"Yuuto, are you sure this setup won't fall apart halfway through? I'm not trying to die on stage."
"It won't," I said, tightening the last cable. "Triple-tested. The only thing that might fall apart is your mental stability."
"That was already gone years ago," Miyu said sweetly.
"Both of you shut up."
Their bickering blended into the festival noise. I wiped my hands and checked my phone—it was almost time to head to the gym. Rina had texted earlier:
Ren's absent again. Need someone to rehearse with. You free?
When it came to the play, she didn't joke. If Ren stayed MIA any longer, the production would collapse. So… I agreed.
I told myself I was doing it out of duty.
Not because it meant spending time with her.
Definitely not.
---
The gym was half-staged chaos. Lighting rigs hung unevenly. Costumes lay over chairs. A group of first-years struggled to assemble a backdrop, arguing about which screw went where.
And there was Tachibana—center stage, hands on her hips, surveying everything with an intensity sharp enough to slice steel.
Last year, the three of us were in the same class.
Back then, I was the quiet, pathetic kid no one took seriously—not even myself.
Tachibana's words at the festival still replayed in my head sometimes. The way she'd said I'd "changed." She didn't know how much I'd been trying to.
And now she was trusting me to help her.
Just the thought made my stomach twist.
---
Rehearsal Begins
Tachibana glanced at me as I approached. "You're late."
"I'm two minutes early."
"Late," she repeated, flipping through her script.
I sighed. "You really need a replacement if Ren keeps skipping."
"He doesn't skip," she muttered. "He just… doesn't show up."
"That's literally the same thing."
She ignored me and moved to the center. "Help me run the entrance scene. You're the prince until he gets here."
"Right." I stepped beside her, gripping the other half of the script. "Let's start—"
But before I could speak, the gym doors slammed open.
---
Enter Ren Arisaka
The air shifted.
A tall figure stepped in with slow, deliberate confidence—perfect posture, perfect uniform, perfect smirk.
Ren Arisaka.
Tachibana stiffened.
My stomach dropped.
He'd changed a little since last year. Taller, sharper expression… but the same eyes. The ones that used to look at me like I wasn't worth acknowledging.
He looked around the gym, then spotted us.
And smiled.
"Still trying to fix that tragic scene, Tachibana?"
Tachibana inhaled sharply. "Ren. Finally."
His gaze slid to me—steady, amused, calculating.
"Well, well. If it isn't Takahashi-kun."
The way he said my name made my spine crawl.
"It's been a while," he added. "Didn't think I'd see you in a place like this."
I straightened. "I'm just helping Tachibana rehearse since you weren't here."
He raised an eyebrow. "Helping? Brave of you to join the inner circle."
My throat tightened. The old instinct—to shrink, to step back—kicked in.
But I held my ground.
Tachibana crossed her arms. "I asked him to help. You weren't here."
Ren's smirk widened. "Ah. Tachibana's request, huh? No wonder."
He stepped closer to me, hands in his pockets, voice lowering just enough to sting.
"You've changed a bit, Takahashi-kun. Not as pathetic as last year."
My breath caught.
He kept going.
"But don't get comfortable. There's a difference between being useful and being out of place."
Tachibana cut in sharply. "Ren, enough."
He shrugged innocently. "Just reminding him. Wouldn't want things getting… confusing."
Then he turned to her, expression softening into the kind of smile that made girls swoon.
"You already shine as Snow White, Tachibana. All we need is a prince worthy of you."
…And then she glanced at me.
Fast. Subtle. But real.
I froze.
She wasn't supposed to look at me right then. Not in front of him.
But she did.
Just for a second.
Something unreadable flickered across her eyes.
---
My Hands Won't Stop Shaking
Ren finally walked past me, the scent of cologne trailing behind him.
He didn't even notice my fingers.
But Tachibana did.
Her eyes dropped to my hand—twitching slightly against the script.
She didn't comment. Didn't tease.
Just watched.
Quietly.
Softly.
Then she inhaled and turned away, flipping her script open.
"…Let's rehearse again," she said.
Her voice was steady, but the papers in her hands weren't.
---
Moment Between Lines
When the other students left for lunch, the gym emptied. Tachibana stayed behind, reorganizing her notes with mechanical precision.
I hesitated by the door.
Then—
"Hey," she said without looking back. "Help me run that line again."
"…The prince entrance?"
"Yeah. Ren's not here."
"You know he literally just left, right?"
"Tch." She tapped the script. "You'll do."
We stood face-to-face, pages between us, sunlight spilling across the stage.
She started her line.
I followed with mine.
And somewhere in the middle—
Our eyes met.
Close.
Too close.
Her breath hitched.
My heart stopped.
She looked away first.
"…Your timing was off," she muttered.
"You froze."
"Shut up."
Her hands trembled as she gathered her props.
---
Outside the gym, Haruki and Miyu watched from the window like they were narrating a nature documentary.
"Who's that guy?" Haruki whispered. "Dude walks like he pays rent for the whole building."
"Ren Arisaka," Miyu replied. "Drama club president. Top grades. Perfect everything. Except his personality."
"So he's into Tachibana?"
"Obsessed," she corrected. "She's the only thing he can't win."
Haruki frowned. "But she doesn't like him."
"Not now," Miyu said softly. "But Ren is safe. Predictable. Easy to fall for if you stop thinking."
Haruki glanced at me inside. "And Yuuto?"
Miyu smiled faintly.
"Yuuto's the real one. The kind that scares you. The kind that makes your heart do things you don't understand."
Haruki blinked. "That's… poetic."
"Love is messy," she said simply. "Ren is safe. Yuuto isn't.
But sometimes? Unsafe is exactly what you need."