It had been almost three months since the summer festival.
Since that night.
Since Rina Tachibana said something that stuck in my head far longer than I'd admit.
And now… I couldn't stop thinking about him.
I sat in the café with Miyu, aimlessly stirring my drink. The smell of coffee, the chatter of students, the soft music drifting from the speakers—it all existed, but I didn't hear any of it.
My mind kept replaying what he'd said behind the vending machine:
"I'll help this year. You'll see. Probably the best paper decorations this school's ever seen."
Damn him.
"Rina," Miyu's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife, "are you even listening?"
I blinked. "What?"
She leaned over the table, chin resting on her palm, that smug little smirk playing across her face. "You've been zoning out since we sat down. And don't even try to lie. Let me guess—Yuuto?"
I scoffed. "Tch. Why would I be thinking about him?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Gee, I dunno. Maybe because he's suddenly capable of saying sentences longer than two words without melting into a puddle?"
I clicked my tongue, staring out the window. "That doesn't mean anything."
"Oh really?" Miyu tilted her head. "The Rina I know doesn't replay people's words in her head if they 'don't mean anything.'"
I hated how well she could read me sometimes.
I leaned back with a sigh. "It's just… weird, that's all. He's not the same Yuuto anymore."
Miyu sipped her iced coffee. "You're telling me. The guy actually has confidence now. Except when he's around you. Then he turns into a lost puppy."
I didn't answer.
And… she wasn't wrong.
I had never noticed Yuuto before. He was just there—shrinking into himself, quiet, easy to ignore.
But now… he was different. Standing tall. Laughing easily. Talking to people like he belonged.
And yet, around me, all that confidence… cracked.
Just one glance, one word, and suddenly he wasn't the calm, collected Yuuto Takahashi everyone else saw. He was careful, hesitant, awkward. Like he knew exactly how much I could affect him.
I hated noticing it.
I hated even more how much it made my heart do its own stunts—skipping, tripping, overreacting.
And the more I thought about it, the clearer it became:
Every little thing he'd done over the last three months—every workout, every practice, every time he forced himself to stand his ground—it had been because of me.
Because of me.
And I didn't know if I could handle it.
If he kept doing this, kept quietly proving himself… I wasn't sure my heart could survive watching.
"Be honest," Miyu said, grinning. "You're impressed."
I narrowed my eyes. "Shut up."
She laughed. "Fine. But you'd better get used to him being around."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh…" Miyu stirred her straw slowly, a wicked smile on her face, "we're in the same group for the school festival."
I sat up, heart thudding in my chest. "What?"
"Did I forget to mention?" she said sweetly. "The student council posted the group lists. You, me, Haruki… and Yuuto."
I felt my soul leave my body.
"Why the hell are they in our group?" I hissed. "They're from another year."
Miyu shrugged. "Apparently, they needed to balance numbers. Too many second-years signed up, so they brought in some first-years to even it out."
I gripped my cup like it personally offended me.
"There's no way I can avoid him now, is there…"
Miyu gave a mock-sympathetic nod. "Nope. And if he keeps looking at you like that, we might need to get him a leash."
I groaned into my hands. This was going to be a disaster.
---
Later, on the walk home, the air was cool. The sky was streaked with orange and pink, soft as watercolors, the streets quieter than usual. Miyu chattered beside me about the festival—stalls, outfits, who might wear what—but I wasn't listening.
I was thinking about him.
Every little thing he had done for me, every awkward, determined step he'd taken… it was all tied to me. And every reminder of it—his glance, his words, even that stupid attempt at paper decorations—made my chest tighten.
I didn't know if I could keep pretending it didn't affect me.
I didn't know if I could survive watching him prove himself to me again and again.
And with the culture festival coming up, I wouldn't have to.
I couldn't avoid him—not with the same people, the same stalls, the same nights lit by paper lanterns.
All I could do was try not to show how fast my heart was beating.
Because if he knew… he'd win.