Being officially unofficial was harder than they thought.
Miyako had never been good at hiding things especially not when she was happy. And right now, she was glowing like a firefly in a dark room, unbothered by the stares or the whispers gathering like pollen in the spring air. Every time Haruki walked beside her, every time their shoulders brushed, and especially when she leaned her head on his in the middle of homeroom, the rumors bloomed wider.
Her smile didn't help.
It wasn't loud or showy but it was new. Softer. Warmer. Not the usual mischievous grin she wore like armor. This one felt real. Quietly victorious.
That's why the whispers started.
"Are they… actually dating?"
"I thought it was just a festival stunt."
"No way. Did you see the way she looked at him during gym?"
"And what about Mina? Didn't she like him?"
Haruki noticed it before Miyako did.
The whispers didn't bother him not much, anyway. But Mina... She'd stopped looking at him. Not even a flicker of eye contact in the hallway. Her laugh now came louder, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her voice was cheerier, but the edges were tight, like someone forcing a smile at a party they weren't invited to.
During lunch, he tried to approach her.
"Hey, Mina"
She turned, flashing him a practiced grin. "Oh! Sorry, Haruki. I promised Nanami I'd help with this thing next time, okay?"
She didn't wait for him to respond.
Just like that, she turned and walked away, her back straight, posture perfect almost too perfect.
Haruki stood frozen for a second, then slunk back to where Miyako was already unpacking her lunch. She glanced at him as he sat down beside her, his chopsticks untouched.
"She's not mad," Miyako said, almost like she'd been waiting for the question. Her voice was soft, no teasing in it.
He looked at her.
"She's just… sad."
Haruki stared down at his rice. "I hate that I caused it."
"You didn't do anything wrong," Miyako replied, brushing her thumb over his knuckles beneath the table, hidden from view.
"I still hurt her."
"You were honest," she said. "You don't get to control how someone feels about that. You only control what you give them."
He didn't say anything for a while. But he didn't pull his hand away either.
After school, things got... more complicated.
A surprise announcement stirred the already gossip-fueled hallways: a new transfer student would be joining their class next week.
Which was rare very rare this late into the term.
And, naturally, the rumors followed like moths to flame.
"He's from Tokyo."
"They say he got kicked out of his last school. Fought a teacher or something."
"I heard he's half-American. Like, tall-tall. Model-tall."
"Maybe he's Miyako's type."
That last line made Haruki's stomach twist.
Miyako, for her part, just smirked whenever someone asked her about it. "I dunno," she'd say, biting into her Pocky. "Tokyo boys are dangerous, right?"
She didn't deny it. Not once.
Which didn't go unnoticed.
Later that night, after walking her home and lingering at the gate like they always did now, Haruki cleared his throat.
"You didn't even defend me."
Miyako blinked. "Huh?"
"Against what?" she asked, confused.
"Against the idea that you might dump me for some Tokyo delinquent," he muttered.
The air between them shifted.
She stared at him for a moment. And then, to his surprise, she laughed.
Hard.
Miyako tilted her head back, giggling so much she had to hold onto the gate to steady herself. "Wait you're jealous?"
He scowled. "I didn't say that."
"You totally are."
"I'm not jealous, I just" he crossed his arms, "don't appreciate being compared to some mystery guy with cool city hair and a reputation."
Miyako was still grinning as she stepped closer, mischief returning to her eyes.
"Want me to shout from the rooftop? 'I love my boring, emotionally aware boyfriend'? Would that help?"
Haruki turned red. "I'm not boring."
"Oh, no. You're a thrill ride," she said, poking his chest.
He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "You're ridiculous."
"Yeah. But you like it."
Miyako reached out, her hands finding their way to his waist as she leaned in, her forehead resting gently against his chest. "You don't need to compete with anyone, Haruki," she said quietly. "You already won."
He exhaled. Slow. Relaxed.
Wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.
And for the first time since that kiss under the fireworks, he dipped down and kissed her forehead.
Soft.
Real.
Like he finally believed it wasn't a dream.
That maybe just maybe he was allowed to have something good.
But good things didn't stay quiet for long.
By Thursday, the whispers about the new transfer student had grown louder and with them, the weight of expectation. Desks shifted. Girls practiced their hair flips. Even teachers whispered in the break room.
His name was Aoi Ren.
And yes he was tall. He had sharp cheekbones, eyes that seemed to flicker like a wolf sizing up the room, and the kind of hair that looked purposefully messy.
The moment he walked into class, the noise stopped.
He bowed, hands in his pockets, and said only, "Yo. Name's Aoi."
Miyako tilted her head.
"That's him?" she whispered to Haruki.
"Apparently," he muttered back.
Aoi's eyes scanned the room casually. Then paused.
Right on Miyako.
Haruki saw it instantly the way Aoi's lips curved into the faintest smirk. Like he'd already decided she was interesting.
And then, in front of the whole class, Aoi pointed directly at her.
"You."
Miyako blinked. "...Me?"
"You seem fun. Mind showing me around?"
The teacher laughed awkwardly. "Maybe after class, Aoi-san"
"I'm serious," Aoi said.
Miyako stared, expression unreadable. Then she shrugged. "Sure."
Haruki's pencil snapped in half.
After school, Miyako did walk with Aoi. Just for a bit. Just around the building. It wasn't a date. It wasn't anything.
But it didn't feel great.
Haruki waited near the shoe lockers, scowling at the wall. His thoughts were a mess unruly, loud, spiraling.
He didn't like being this version of himself. Insecure. Petty. Jealous.
But here he was.
Mina walked by, pausing when she saw him.
"You okay?"
He blinked. "Yeah. Just... thinking."
She hesitated. Then sat on the bench beside him.
"You never liked being the center of attention," she said.
He nodded.
"Now you're in the middle of a story everyone wants to tell."
He didn't respond.
For a moment, they sat in silence, like old friends who knew how to share space even when they didn't know what to say.
"I'm not mad," Mina said finally.
He turned to her.
"I know. Miyako told me."
"She's smart," Mina said with a small smile. "Weird, but smart."
"I'm sorry," Haruki murmured.
"You were always kind," Mina said, her voice soft. "That's why it was easy to hope."
She stood after that. Looked down at him with that same practiced smile from before.
"I'll be fine, Haruki. Just don't waste what you have trying to fix what you can't."
That night, as rain drizzled softly against his window, Haruki got a text.
Miyako: "Can I come over?"
He didn't hesitate.
Ten minutes later, she was curled up in his hoodie on his couch, clutching a soda and glaring at the paused screen of a half-watched movie.
"Did you have fun with Aoi?" he asked, voice neutral.
She groaned. "That guy's weird. I was polite. That's all."
Haruki looked at her.
She looked back.
"What?"
He hesitated.
"I just… I didn't like it. Watching him look at you like you were his next challenge."
Miyako softened.
She leaned forward, setting the soda down, then crawled across the couch until she was sitting in his lap, her fingers running through his hair.
"Then next time," she whispered, "kiss me in the hallway."
He stared at her.
"I'm serious," she said. "Let them talk. Let them see."
And then, without waiting for permission, she kissed him.
Not like the first time timid, cautious.
This one was bolder. Certain.
When she pulled back, her cheeks were pink.
"You're mine, Haruki," she said. "I don't care who knows."
And for the first time in days, he smiled without hesitation.
Because maybe being officially unofficial was messy.
But her warmth?
That was real. That was home.