The nurse's office was quiet, filled with the faint scent of disinfectant and sunlight spilling through the blinds. The soft ticking of a wall clock mingled with the hum of an old air conditioner, making the silence heavier than it should have been.
On the narrow bed, Yuigahama Yui stirred with a groan. Her cheeks were pale, her lips dry, but she slowly blinked her way back to consciousness.
"Yui," Miura Yumiko's voice cracked with relief, though she tried to mask it by crossing her arms. "Finally. You scared me half to death."
"Yumiko…? What happened?" Yui sat up slowly, rubbing her temple, still dazed.
"You passed out, idiot," Yumiko scolded, though her tone was softer than her words. "Haruto carried you all the way here."
"Eh?" Yui's breath hitched. She vaguely remembered the warmth of someone's back, the steady rhythm of footsteps. Turning her head, she found Haruto Amakawa leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets.
He gave her an easy smile. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty."
Yui's cheeks flushed. "T-thank you for bringing me here."
"It's nothing." Haruto shrugged, stepping forward to hand her a small packet of sugar tablets. "Nurse said it's low blood sugar. You'll be fine after a little sweet."
"…Dieting," Yumiko muttered, her frown deepening.
Yui lowered her head, guilt written all over her face. "I just… wanted to slim down faster, so I've been eating less…"
Haruto clicked his tongue, shaking his head with an amused sigh. "You girls and your shortcuts. Skipping meals doesn't make you prettier—it just makes you faint in the middle of class."
His eyes softened as he tilted his head, studying Yui with that teasing smile of his. "Honestly, you already have a figure most guys would kill for. Why torture yourself?"
"R-really?!" Yui stammered, face burning crimson.
"From a guy's perspective? Yeah. You're fine the way you are." Haruto said it so naturally, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then he straightened, waving off the weight of his words. "But hey, it's not really my place. Since you're good now, I'll get going."
He turned, hand already on the doorknob—
"Wait!"
Yumiko's voice rang out before she could stop herself.
Haruto paused, brows slightly raised. He knew Miura Yumiko—beautiful, popular, always trailing beside Hayama Hayato. So why was she calling him now, her voice trembling with something that sounded far too raw?
Yumiko's fists clenched at her side. Her pride screamed at her to stay silent, but the words she'd buried for so long finally burst free.
"Haruto… back in second year… why didn't you respond to my love letter? Was it because you hated me?"
The room froze. Yui's eyes widened. Haruto himself blinked in surprise.
"…Love letter?"
His tone was light, almost amused, but his eyes searched Yumiko's face carefully.
Yumiko bit her lip. "I waited for an answer, but you never… you never even looked at me. Not once."
Haruto's smile curved wryly. "I see. That explains a lot."
He exhaled, scratching the back of his neck. "I didn't ignore you out of hate. Truth is… I never read it."
"…What?" Yumiko's voice cracked.
"I used to get letters shoved in my locker every day," Haruto said with a helpless chuckle. "It got to the point where I couldn't keep up, so I stopped opening any of them. Yours must have been buried in the pile."
Yui gasped. "Then Yumiko, you misunderstood this whole time…"
Yumiko's cheeks burned with shame. She'd hated him quietly, resented him for what she thought was rejection—and all this time…
"Still," Haruto added, his gaze lingering on her for the first time with a hint of warmth, "knowing it was you… it feels like a waste. If you had come to me directly, I probably would have said yes."
The words hit her harder than any rejection. For a brief, dizzy moment, her heart soared—only to sink as she realized it was too late.
Haruto's smile returned, easy and disarming. "Anyway, no use crying over the past. I'll head out—"
Before he could finish, Yumiko moved.
Her body acted before her mind, grabbing hold of him in a desperate embrace from behind. Her face buried against his back, her voice trembling.
"Haruto… I-I still like you. Please… can I be your girlfriend?"
Her confession was raw, desperate, trembling between pride and vulnerability.
For a moment, the world was silent. Then Haruto slowly turned, his hand rising to cup her face. His touch was gentle, almost tender, but his eyes—those sharp, unreadable eyes—cut through her illusions.
"Yumiko…" His voice dropped low, intimate, almost intoxicating. "I think you're still in love with the version of me you imagined. Not the man standing in front of you now."
She froze.
"The truth is, I've already been with two women," Haruto whispered against her ear, his breath warm, his words cold. "And I've set my eyes on others. I won't pretend to be the prince you dreamed of. If you still want me… then face me as I am."
Yumiko's knees nearly gave way, her heart hammering in chaos.
Haruto's hand lingered for just a heartbeat longer before he stepped back, slipping from her grasp. His smile had returned, playful again, as though the moment had never happened.
"If you're serious, meet me on the rooftop at noon. Then we'll see."
With that, he left, the door closing behind him.
The silence in his absence was deafening.
Yumiko stood frozen, her hand trembling over her lips. His words replayed in her mind—two women, others he desired, the rooftop—each revelation shattering the image of the boy she once adored.
"Yumiko? Are… are you crying?" Yui asked softly.
"N-no reason!" Yumiko wiped her eyes furiously, forcing a brittle laugh. "I just… can't believe I actually confessed."
"W-what did he say to you?" Yui pressed.
"Nothing important." Yumiko grabbed Yui's hand, pulling her toward the door. "Let's just go back."
But as they walked, Yumiko's heart screamed the truth she couldn't voice.
I have to know.
I need to understand who Haruto Amakawa really is—even if it breaks me.