The first thing Ren noticed upon waking was a soft scent of citrus and sugar.
He sat up slowly, blinking against the morning light streaming through the half-drawn curtains. On the edge of his pillow sat a small wrapped candy. Beside it, a note written in soft, slanted letters:
"Thank you for listening."
Across the room, Azel grumbled and rolled over. His note, tucked into the corner of his sheets, read:
"Thank you for shouting."
Azel snorted as he read it, rubbing sleep from his eyes. But the way he tucked the note into his pillowcase spoke volumes.
Ren didn't react, not openly. But he didn't look away from the note for a long time.
Kaito had already left the room.
What he didn't know was this:
As he crept around earlier that morning, gently placing the notes and candies, clutching Toty under one arm, he had thought:
"I don't know how to say it out loud… but I want them to know."
And both Ren and Azel had heard him.
---
The canteen was buzzing that afternoon, filled with the clatter of trays and idle gossip. Kaito held his tray with both hands, carefully balancing a bowl of soup and a slice of toast.
He didn't see the foot sticking out.
He tripped—just slightly—but enough that the soup sloshed over the edge of the bowl and splattered onto his wrist. The burn wasn't harsh, but the sudden sting made him gasp.
The boy who had tripped him laughed. "Oops."
Before anyone else could react, Azel's voice rang through the hall.
"You got something to say, Runo?"
The canteen went quiet.
Azel was already storming over, his tray abandoned. He stepped in between Kaito and the boy, glaring with such open fire that a few nearby students flinched.
"You wanna explain what's funny about burning someone who never fights back?"
Runo muttered something and ducked his head. Azel didn't push further—but the message had been sent.
He turned, took Kaito's tray, and walked him out without a word.
Kaito's thoughts, trembling, drifted out:
"He's not mad at me… he's mad for me."
Azel didn't say anything until they reached the quiet corner stairwell.
Then, he glanced sideways.
"You okay, Cotton Ball?"
Kaito nodded faintly, but Azel didn't miss the tiny quiver in his hand. He took the tray back.
"Come on. I'll fix your soup myself. Better than that garbage anyway."
---
Evening fell with a soft hush over the academy. Most students were studying or winding down for the night. Kaito found Ren sitting in the study lounge, a cup of tea beside him, pages open but barely turned.
Kaito hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside and sat beside him. He didn't say anything—he never did—but Toty peeked from under his arm.
Ren slid the spare cup toward him.
Kaito blinked, surprised, then picked it up carefully.
His thoughts were quiet, gentle:
"He always knows when I need warmth, even if I don't ask."
Ren didn't look at him. He simply said:
"That's because you always think too loud."
Kaito froze.
Then slowly—hesitantly—he smiled.
It was soft and fleeting, but it was there.
Ren turned the page finally, pretending not to notice that he'd just made the boy beside him bloom like a morning flower.
---
The dorm was dimly lit when Azel returned.
He paused in the doorway, taking in the scene: Kaito curled up on the couch with Toty, a blanket draped over his knees, Ren sitting beside him reading quietly.
Something flickered across Azel's face.
He flopped down onto his own bed with a theatrical sigh. "What, you two eloped while I was gone?"
Kaito startled slightly. Ren didn't glance up.
"We're studying."
Kaito's thoughts whispered nervously:
"Why does the air feel colder suddenly?"
Azel watched them for a moment longer, then reached for the remote.
"Movie night. No arguments. I'm picking the dumbest thing I can find."
Kaito hesitated.
Then nodded.
They settled in. Kaito, as always, sat between them. Toty perched loyally on his lap. Azel nudged his arm once, then again. Ren gently passed him a bottle of water without being asked. Both boys lingered a little too close.
The movie started.
But no one really watched it.
Kaito's thoughts, floating like snowflakes:
"They're both warm. But something's changed. Did I do something wrong?"
He didn't speak. But he leaned softly to one side—shoulder brushing Ren's.
Then, just before the credits rolled, he tilted the other way, letting his head rest gently against Azel's.
Azel didn't move.
Ren closed his book.
And outside, the storm that had been threatening all evening finally began to fall.