Surviving the day felt less like a strategic mission and more like trying to tiptoe through a minefield in clown shoes. My new directive—Be Normal—was the single hardest command I had ever been given.
How was I supposed to be "normal" when every cell in my body was screaming with the memory of the kiss? How could I be a "platonic friend" when I was so irrevocably in love that it was a physical ache in my chest?
My first test came right after lunch. The study group convened in our usual library spot. When Sina walked in with Sora, her eyes immediately found mine. The searching, anxious look was back, but this time it had a new, terrifying intensity. She was looking at me, the boy from the "Cat Rescue," and trying to see if he was also the faceless boy from her dream.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Be normal. Platonic. No soulful looks.
I forced a small, casual smile and gave her a nod. "Hey," I said, my voice deliberately even. "Ready to get destroyed by chemistry homework?"
My calculatedly bland greeting seemed to work. The intense scrutiny in her eyes lessened, replaced by a flicker of disappointment. It was a good sign. It meant I was successfully creating distance, de-escalating. It also felt like twisting a knife in my own gut.
The study session was an exercise in excruciating self-control. Kaito was droning on about covalent bonds, but I wasn't listening. I was hyper-aware of Sina, who had taken the seat directly opposite me.
I could feel her watching me when she thought I wasn't looking. I could feel her trying to solve the puzzle, trying to match the boy in front of her to the overwhelming feeling in her heart.
She dropped her pen. The exact same scenario from a few weeks ago. The pencil drop had been a moment of sweet, intuitive connection. This time, it was a trap.
My instincts screamed at me to reach for it, to reprise the gesture, to show her that seamless, comforting care.
No. Platonic. Normal.
I deliberately kept my hands on my textbook, forcing myself to look away. A beat of awkward silence passed. Finally, Kaito, ever the pragmatist, leaned over with a sigh and picked it up for her.
"Careful, Vance-san," he said. "The gravitational pull on writing implements seems to be unusually strong in your vicinity today."
Sina took the pen, a mumbled "thanks" on her lips. But her eyes were on me. The look she gave me was small, almost imperceptible, but it hit me like a physical blow. It was a look of quiet, confused hurt. Why didn't you?
I felt like the cruelest person on the planet. I was deliberately withdrawing the very comfort that had made her feel "seen." I was proving to her that the connection she felt was all in her head. It was the only way to save our lie, to save her from the paradox.
And it was killing me.
Later, Maya started talking about Daisuke Sato. "Sooo, Sina," she said, wiggling her eyebrows. "Your big date with the Student Council President is tomorrow! Are you excited?"
Sina looked down at her hands. "I... I guess so." Her voice was flat, lacking any of the flustered excitement from a few days ago. Her dream, the seismic aftershock of my kiss, had completely eclipsed any feelings she might have had for Daisuke.
"I think I might cancel, actually," she mumbled, so quietly I almost didn't hear her.
Sora's head snapped up. From a strategic standpoint, this was a victory. Operation: Resonance Cascade had been a resounding, if catastrophic, success. But Sina looked so miserable, so lost, that it felt like a hollow win.
"Why?" Sora asked, her voice carefully neutral.
Sina hesitated, her gaze flicking to me for a fraction of a second. "I'm just... not feeling up to it. My head's been really... loud... today."
The "static" was now a roar. And I was its source.
The final bell felt like a parole hearing. I had survived. I hadn't made any soulful eye contact. I hadn't made any intuitive gestures. I had successfully acted like a distant, slightly aloof acquaintance.
I walked a few paces behind Sina and Sora as they headed for the bus stop, keeping to my prescribed "normal" role. My heart ached, watching the slump of her shoulders, the way she kept shaking her head as if to clear it.
When we got to the stop, a cold drizzle began to fall—an ironic echo of Day 79. Sina didn't have an umbrella.
My hand twitched towards my bag, where my own umbrella was neatly tucked away. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull it out, to shelter her, to reprise the role of the "ridiculously prepared stranger" and bring a smile back to her face.
Don't you dare. Sora's voice from yesterday was a steel command in my head.
I watched, frozen, as Sora opened her own umbrella and pulled Sina under it with her. A perfectly normal, platonic gesture between friends. A gesture that, just a day ago, I would have been the one to make.
As Sina boarded the bus, she looked out the window, her gaze sweeping past me without stopping. To her, I had just been a background character today. A friend who was suddenly distant, a source of quiet disappointment that only added to her confusion. I had followed my orders perfectly. I had helped put out the fire.
But as the bus pulled away, leaving me standing in the rain, I felt a cold, terrifying thought solidify in my mind.
In my desperate attempt to stop her from feeling the impossible echo of my love, I was now actively, deliberately breaking her heart. And I had no idea how much longer either of us could take it.