The festival had ended, but the afterglow still lingered in the halls of Aoba High like the scent of sugar and warm tea. Banners fluttered lazily as if refusing to be taken down. Students moved a little slower, voices hoarse from cheering, eyes still sparkling from the weekend's magic.
But in Room 3C of the east dorm building, a different kind of warmth hung in the air.
Takara Minami stared at the ceiling.
Then turned to look at Kayo Tsukishiro, who lay in the bed across from him, headphones hanging loosely around his neck.
"You said it," Takara murmured.
Kayo didn't look up from his book. "I did."
"Out loud."
"Yes."
"In public."
Kayo flipped the page. "Behind a curtain."
"Semantics."
Takara sat up. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
Takara grinned, pulling his blanket up to his chest like a cloak. "You can't just drop a love confession and go back to reading The Sound of Waves like we didn't both nearly combust last night."
Kayo glanced up then. "You sang on stage. About me. In front of the entire school."
Takara blinked. "Okay, fair."
For a moment, silence returned—companionable, not awkward. Then Takara flopped dramatically onto his pillow. "So… what happens now?"
Kayo closed the book. "Now we clean up the glitter bomb that used to be our classroom."
Class 2-B's cleanup shift began at 9 a.m., and of course, Takara was late.
He came flying into the room wearing mismatched socks, a glitter-smeared hoodie, and a half-eaten melon pan in his mouth. Kayo had already arrived ten minutes prior, silently stacking chairs.
"You're late," Kayo said without looking up.
"I was emotionally preparing," Takara wheezed.
"For cleaning?"
"For seeing your face again after your declaration of undying love."
Kayo rolled his eyes. "I said 'I love you.' Not 'I'm going to write it in blood on the moon.'"
Takara threw a sponge at him. "It was still huge!"
As they worked side by side, scrubbing tables and sweeping confetti, their classmates offered subtle glances. A few whispered. One bold girl even gave them a thumbs-up.
Takara raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Is this what visibility feels like?"
Kayo wiped a stubborn mark off the wall. "It's not exactly subtle when you two orbit each other like gravity and chaos," Kana muttered behind them.
Takara smirked. "Chaos is flattering. I accept."
Despite everything, the atmosphere was oddly peaceful. Where once Kayo might have shut down at the attention, he now moved through the space like someone who had found center. Maybe not comfort—Kayo was still quiet and still guarded—but grounded.
And Takara?
Takara was glowing.
Later that afternoon, they sat on the rooftop.
Their shared spot. Wind tugged at their sleeves. Below, students laughed and shouted as club booths were dismantled.
Takara leaned against the railing. "I keep waiting to wake up."
"You're not dreaming," Kayo said, handing him a can of soda.
"Don't take this the wrong way, but… you're surprisingly romantic when you try."
Kayo raised an eyebrow. "Handing you a lukewarm can of cola is romantic?"
"You confessed your love and bought me caffeine. That's practically marriage in some cultures."
Kayo looked away, ears tinged pink. "You make everything sound dramatic."
"Because feelings are dramatic," Takara said softly. "You can't just bottle them up and expect them not to spill."
Kayo grew quiet, and Takara turned to him more seriously.
"You okay?"
Kayo nodded. "I'm… trying. Like I said. Still learning how not to hide."
Takara slid his hand over Kayo's. "You're doing great. Even when it's messy."
Kayo didn't respond right away.
But he didn't pull away either.
That night, their dorm room felt different. Not in any major way—nothing had changed physically. But the energy was softer. Their movements synchronized without thought.
Kayo brushed his teeth while Takara picked out socks for the next day. They passed each other like twin moons in orbit, brushing shoulders without bristling.
Takara paused at the foot of his bed. "You wanna… watch something?"
Kayo glanced over from his desk. "Like a movie?"
Takara shrugged. "Yeah. Something dumb. Something with explosions or singing animals."
Kayo hesitated, then closed his laptop. "Okay."
They sat on Takara's bed, shoulders touching, as the laptop screen glowed between them. The movie was ridiculous—talking dogs solving mysteries—but neither cared.
Halfway through, Takara leaned into Kayo's side and rested his head on his shoulder.
Kayo tensed for only a second.
Then relaxed.
And for the first time in a long time, Kayo didn't feel like he had to perform silence just to feel safe.
The next day, news of Takara's performance and the "curtain confession" circled like wildfire. The school was abuzz. Some people whispered; some joked. A few girls cried over the "lost cause" that was Kayo Tsukishiro.
But something else started to happen too.
People stopped pretending they didn't notice. They began treating it like any other budding romance. Curious, a little nosy—but mostly normal.
Kayo caught glimpses of it during lunch. A guy from the soccer club nodded at him and said, "Cool song, man." A girl in art club asked if he and Takara would visit their exhibition together.
And in class, when Takara slipped a doodle onto Kayo's desk, the teacher didn't blink. She just asked them both to focus.
It was small.
But it was something.
Later that week, as they walked back from the convenience store with ice cream and canned drinks in hand, Takara spoke up.
"Hey. Did you ever imagine it would be like this?"
Kayo sucked on a melon popsicle. "You mean… us?"
"Yeah."
Kayo thought for a moment.
"No. I thought if I let someone in, it would break me."
Takara slowed his steps. "And now?"
Kayo met his eyes. "Now I think it might be what fixes me."
Takara nearly dropped his soda.
"You can't just say things like that casually!"
Kayo smirked. "You said I should talk about my feelings."
"I meant slowly! With preparation! I need a script and a support group!"
Kayo's soft laugh echoed through the quiet street.
Later that night, as they lay in their respective beds, lights off, the silence between them wasn't empty.
It was full of possibilities.
"Hey, Kayo?" Takara whispered.
"Yeah?"
"You're still not off the hook for saying 'I love you' like it was a grocery list item."
Kayo chuckled. "Do you want me to write it on the moon after all?"
Takara grinned in the dark. "I'd settle for a kiss."
Silence.
Then the sound of sheets rustling.
Takara felt the edge of his bed dip slightly.
A warm hand brushed against his.
Lips pressed, gently, to his temple.
"I'm still learning," Kayo whispered.
Takara's voice was thick. "You're doing amazing."