The rain had stopped by the time Aika walked home, but the air remained damp and cold, clinging to her skin like an unshakable weight. The streets shimmered under the dim glow of the streetlights, the puddles reflecting golden halos that rippled with each step she took. Normally, the rhythmic tap of her shoes against the pavement would have been comforting, a steady beat to match the hum of her thoughts.
But tonight, her thoughts refused to quiet.
Riku had been there today—laughing, teasing, acting like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn't sat alone in the rain yesterday, looking as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders.
Like he hadn't let that mask slip, even for just a moment.
Aika let out a slow breath, her grip tightening around the strap of her bag.
Why won't he just tell me?
Why did he have to make everything a joke, turning every concern into something light and meaningless?
A familiar frustration twisted inside her chest, but underneath it was something else—something she didn't want to acknowledge.
Worry.
She didn't like it.
Didn't like this feeling of standing just outside of something important, something fragile, something she didn't fully understand yet.
Didn't like the way her heart clenched at the thought of Riku sitting alone in the rain again.
But more than that, she didn't like the idea that one day, she might turn around and realize he wasn't there at all.
---
The Next Day
When Riku strolled into class five minutes late, it was as if nothing had happened.
He grinned at the teacher in mock innocence, dropping into his seat with the kind of effortless charm that usually got him out of trouble. Aika watched from the corner of her eye, waiting—for what, exactly? She wasn't sure. Some crack in the act, some indication that he wasn't as fine as he pretended to be.
But Riku was as good at pretending as he was at breathing.
He laughed with their classmates, tossed playful remarks across the room, drummed his fingers lightly against his desk like he always did when he was bored.
And yet, there were small things.
The way his fingers trembled for half a second before he tucked them into his pockets.
The slight delay in his responses, like his mind was somewhere else.
The way he blinked too much, like he was trying to force himself to stay alert.
Aika's stomach twisted.
Was she imagining things?
She wanted to believe she was.
She wanted to believe that yesterday had been a moment of weakness, that he was just tired like he had said, that there wasn't something deeper lurking beneath his smile.
But the uneasy feeling in her chest wouldn't go away.
---
Lunch Break
Aika hesitated before approaching his desk.
Riku was mid-conversation, laughing at something one of their classmates had said. His presence was as bright as ever, like he belonged there, effortlessly weaving himself into the moment.
But when his eyes flickered to hers, something about them dimmed for just a second.
Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
"Aika!" he greeted, his signature grin in place. "To what do I owe the honor? Did you miss me yesterday?"
She rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself."
A few of their classmates chuckled before turning away, leaving them in their own little bubble.
Riku leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "So? What's up?"
Aika studied him.
He looked fine. Too fine.
Like he was trying to be fine.
"You disappeared yesterday," she said, crossing her arms.
Riku raised an eyebrow. "I didn't disappear. I was at school."
"You skipped class all day."
He shrugged. "Just needed some air."
"That's not like you."
"Maybe I'm changing."
The words were lighthearted, teasing. But there was something beneath them.
Something off.
Aika exhaled slowly, debating how much to push.
Before she could say anything, Riku let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in his chair. "You're really obsessed with me, huh? Should I be flattered?"
There it was. The deflection. The joke meant to change the subject.
And for the first time, it didn't just frustrate her—it hurt.
She turned away, ignoring the sting in her chest. "Forget it. You're impossible."
She was about to walk away when his voice, quieter this time, stopped her in her tracks.
"…Thanks for checking, though."
Aika paused.
Turned back.
Riku was still smiling, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't that easy, careless grin he threw around so effortlessly.
This one was different.
Softer.
A little sad.
She swallowed hard, then left without another word.
---
The Art Room
Later that afternoon, she found herself in the art room.
She didn't remember deciding to come here, but somehow, it had been the only place her feet wanted to take her.
The smell of paint, the quiet stillness of the space—it was comforting. It gave her something to focus on, something to steady her thoughts.
Her fingers moved on instinct, pencil gliding over the paper, sketching without thinking.
When she finally looked down at what she had drawn, her breath caught in her throat.
It was Riku.
Not the one who filled every space with laughter, not the one who made the world feel lighter just by being in it.
This was him sitting alone in the rain, his shoulders slumped, his gaze distant, his expression unreadable.
She stared at the drawing, heart pounding.
Why had she drawn this?
Why did it feel so real?
Aika swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the pencil.
What are you hiding, Riku?
She didn't have an answer.
But for the first time, she was starting to feel like she needed one.