The next day Akira didn't show up at 15:45.
Sora waited until 16:10, then texted him.
No reply.
She waited until 16:30.
Still nothing.
She went to the student council room—empty.
The library—empty.
His homeroom—empty.
Finally she found him on the roof.
The door was unlocked. He sat against the chain-link fence, knees drawn up, staring at the city skyline. No notebook. No laptop. Just him and the wind.
Sora stepped out quietly.
He didn't turn. "How did you know I was here?"
"You always come up here when you need to think. I've seen you twice before."
Akira exhaled. "I didn't think anyone noticed."
"I notice."
She sat beside him—close but not touching. Legs stretched out.
Neither spoke for a long time.
Then Sora said, "I'm sorry about yesterday."
Akira shook his head. "Don't be. You were right."
"About what?"
"About me caring what you think."
Sora looked at him sideways. "And?"
"And I don't know what to do with that."
She pulled her knees up. "Me neither."
Another silence.
Akira spoke first. "I thought if I kept everything controlled—rankings, schedules, emotions—nothing could go wrong."
Sora nodded. "And I thought if I kept pushing, kept being loud, eventually you'd crack and see I'm not just second place."
Akira turned to her. "You're not second place."
Sora laughed softly. "Tell that to every exam board since middle school."
"I'm telling you now."
She met his eyes.
He continued. "You're not second. You're… different. And that difference makes everything better. Even when it drives me insane."
Sora swallowed. "You're not as cold as you pretend."
"I'm trying to be."
"Why?"
"Because if I'm not cold, I have to feel things. And feeling things about you is dangerous."
Sora looked out at the city. "Yeah. It is."
They sat in silence until the sun dipped lower.
Sora stood first. Offered her hand.
Akira took it.
She pulled him up.
They didn't let go immediately.
Then Sora said, "Tomorrow. Rehearsal. Normal blocking. No more weirdness."
Akira nodded. "Normal."
She smiled—small, real.
"See you at 15:45 sharp."
She left.
Akira stayed a moment longer.
He looked at his hand—the one that had held hers.
No warmth lingered this time.
But something else did.
Something quieter.
Something that didn't feel like hate at all.