The first day of silence had been amusing—for me, at least. Peryn thought he could tease me into jealousy, but the second I stopped reacting, the game flipped. He didn't even realize it yet.
By the third day, he was visibly restless.
"Yo, Luna," he said during break, tapping my desk. "You forgot your notebook yesterday."
"Mm." I didn't look up.
"…That's it? Just 'mm'?"
I flipped a page, calm as ever. Inside, my heart was doing cartwheels, but on the outside? Ice queen.
At games period, he tried harder. Normally, he'd toss his ball my way "by accident" or sing in his broken radio voice near my ear. This time, he joked loudly with another girl, draping his arm across her shoulder for just a second. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched me.
I didn't even blink. Instead, I turned to Sayuri and asked about her new math notes.
When Peryn saw me laugh at something she said, his grin faltered. He tossed the ball a little too hard next play, nearly missing Akio's head.
By the end of the week, the silence had settled between us like thick fog. He'd whisper jokes in class—I wouldn't answer. He'd point something out, waiting for me to share that secret laugh—but I'd just raise an eyebrow and look away.
Finally, one afternoon, he cracked.
"You mad at me or something?" he muttered, cornering me as we walked out.
"Nope."
"Then why are you acting like I don't exist?" His voice was low, sharp, but underneath it was something else—something almost vulnerable.
I glanced at him, expression neutral. "I'm just busy."
The way his jaw clenched told me everything. Peryn wasn't used to being ignored. He wasn't used to me not being his audience.
And as I walked ahead, leaving him standing there with his frustration, I realized something: this wasn't just about a silent treatment anymore.
This was a quiet war. And the longer it lasted, the more he would want to win me back.