—-Ryu—-
The soft hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound in my room. I lay sprawled across my bed, one arm flung over my eyes, the other resting on my chest where I could feel the rapid beat of my heart—still louder than I'd like to admit.
I should be asleep by now.
I really should.
But all I could do was replay the events from earlier today.
Miss Yamazaki.
No.. Yui. I should start calling her that in my head, at least.
Every little interaction echoed like a scene from a slow-burn drama. The way she hesitated before nodding when Miss Kana asked about the free meal. The way her fingers fidgeted with her phone when she sat across from me. The way her voice, though quiet, had this calm strength to it when she said she didn't want handouts.
And that almost-smile.
That tiny, almost imperceptible smile.
God, why did it feel like I'd just witnessed a miracle?
I groaned softly, rolling over to bury my face in my pillow.
I was so stiff. So awkward. I barely even said anything meaningful. All I could do was crack a lame joke about Emilia and try not to explode every time Yui looked at me. Was I always this hopeless?
At the time, after we finished eating, I ended up leaving with Emilia. She said she was taking a different route home, and since we lived close, we walked together for a bit before splitting ways. Yui, on the other hand, had to take the train back. I watched her go quietly, from a distance, until her figure disappeared beyond the station.
It felt… strange. Like something inside me tugged at that moment. I wanted to walk her to the station. I wanted to say something, maybe "get home safe" or even "thanks for coming today."
But all I did was freeze.
Again.
I exhaled loudly and ran a hand through my hair.
Then I remembered something else.
Yui reached for her purse when we were alone. Her quiet panic when she realized she didn't have enough money. How she looked away quickly, her fingers clenched tight around the strap.
And how I immediately told her it was fine.
That moment stayed with me more than it should've. She didn't complain, didn't try to argue. But she looked… ashamed. Like accepting help was the worst thing she could do.
It made my chest ache a little.
I don't know everything about her, but something tells me… she's been through a lot.
I shifted on the bed, eyes locked on the dim ceiling.
She's not just the cool beauty from afar anymore. She's someone who tries to hold herself together even when she doesn't have to. Someone who doesn't want to rely on others, but maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't mind having someone there.
And that's when I realized something.
I want to be that someone.
But damn, how do I even begin?