The days after the festival moved like the last golden rays of autumn—warm, quiet, and brief. Between midterms and after-school club preparations for winter activities, the dorm settled into a rhythm that felt almost… domestic.
For Takara Minami and Kayo Tsukishiro, it was the calmest storm they'd ever weathered.
The shift in their relationship hadn't gone unnoticed—at least not by those paying close attention. Where before Takara and Kayo had been at odds, magnetic opposites repelling each other with fiery energy, they now moved like dual stars caught in orbit. Still different. Still themselves. But… closer.
Too close, in fact, for some people's comfort.
"Can I ask you something?" Kana said one afternoon during cleanup duty.
Takara looked up from where he was re-shelving textbooks. "Is this about Kayo? Because if it is, the answer is yes, he's cuter when he's annoyed."
Kana gave him a withering look. "No. Well—yes. Kind of."
She lowered her voice. "You two. Are you, like… actually together now? Or is this another 'Takara is overly affectionate' thing?"
He blinked. Then smiled softly.
"It's not just me being me this time."
Her expression softened. "I figured. You're… less loud about it, weirdly. But more sincere."
Takara's eyes found Kayo at the far end of the room, quietly putting away a stack of worksheets with surgical precision.
"It's different with him," he said. "It feels like I don't have to shout just to be heard."
Kana nudged him. "Well, shout if he ever breaks your heart. I'll bring the bats."
Takara grinned. "You're my favorite after-school assassin."
That weekend, Takara received a message from his father.
It was short—just a few lines:
Heading to Okinawa for three weeks. Stay warm. Be safe.
Proud of you.
—Dad
He stared at the screen for a long moment.
Three weeks. The longest stretch yet.
His fingers hovered over the reply keys. He could say something honest. Or something easy.
He typed:
Got it. Take care. I'll be okay.
And sent it.
Then he locked his phone and let the silence stretch.
Back in the dorm, Takara lay on his bed, headphones in, not listening to anything. Just trying to drown out the ache of being left behind again.
Kayo glanced up from his desk. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to.
Eventually, he stood, crossed the room, and gently tugged Takara's headphones off.
Takara looked up, startled. "Hey, I was—"
Kayo sat beside him and leaned back against the wall.
"You don't have to say anything," Kayo said softly.
Takara stared at him.
He hadn't even said he was upset. Hadn't made a scene. And still… Kayo just knew.
He sighed and leaned his head on Kayo's shoulder.
"I hate that he always leaves," he murmured.
Kayo's fingers brushed against his.
"I know."
They sat like that for a long time.
No music. No conversation. Just shared silence—the kind that spoke louder than words ever could.
Monday morning brought a bitter cold wind. The kind that clawed at skin and made Takara's hair stand up the moment he stepped outside.
"Ugh. I hate winter," he muttered, burying his face in his scarf.
"You say that about every season that isn't spring," Kayo said beside him.
"Because spring is the only one that makes sense. Warm sun, cute clothes, everything smells like flowers and possibility—"
Kayo gave him a side-eye. "You're a flower. That's why you like it."
Takara gasped. "Are you complimenting me in your own cryptic way?"
"No," Kayo deadpanned.
"You liar. You called me a flower. That means something."
"It means you're high-maintenance and dramatic."
Takara whacked him with his scarf.
Their banter followed them all the way to the school gates, leaving a trail of amused glances and lingering smiles behind.
That afternoon, a student from another class stopped them in the hall.
"Hey. Are you Takara and Kayo?"
Takara blinked. "Uh… yes?"
"I'm in Class 1-D. We're doing a winter panel discussion next week on 'Changing Social Norms.' Would you guys consider being guest speakers?"
Kayo stiffened immediately.
Takara's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"
The girl smiled. "We're focusing on open expression and representation in school life. You two made a huge impact during the festival. It'd mean a lot."
Takara looked at Kayo.
Kayo's face was unreadable. His posture guarded.
"I… don't know," he said after a beat.
The girl nodded, not pushing. "Think about it. Let us know by Friday."
She walked off.
Takara turned to Kayo, hesitant. "Are you okay?"
Kayo's jaw was tight. "I didn't do this to be an example."
"I know," Takara said gently. "But you kind of are."
Kayo didn't respond.
That night, he sat at his desk for hours, writing and rewriting a note that never left his drawer.
By Thursday, the school buzzed with talk of the winter panel. Other students, both upper and lower classmen, began mentioning it in passing.
Takara wasn't sure if it was pressure or momentum.
But something had changed.
People were starting to see them not as outliers—but as part of the school's fabric. A story woven into the whole, not a deviation from it.
It made Takara's chest hurt in the best way.
He brought it up again during lights-out.
"Hey," he whispered across the dark room.
"Yeah?"
"You don't have to do it if you don't want to. I'll tell them no."
Kayo didn't reply right away.
Then: "What if I say something wrong?"
"You won't."
"I might."
"Then I'll cover for you. Like I always do."
Kayo's voice was barely audible. "I hate being looked at."
Takara turned over, watching the silhouette across the room.
"Then look at me," he said. "Just me. Pretend no one else is there."
The silence afterward was deep.
And then came Kayo's soft exhale. "Okay."
Friday afternoon, they walked into Class 1-D's homeroom together.
Takara wore a ridiculous oversized sweater with pastel stars. Kayo wore black from neck to heel, save for the smallest pin on his lapel: a silver crescent moon Takara had gifted him weeks ago.
Their talk was short.
Kayo kept his eyes on the table the whole time. But his voice didn't waver.
"I'm not good at being open," he said. "But I'm trying. Because someone made me feel like I don't have to be perfect to be… worth hearing."
Takara spoke next.
"I used to be scared of being too much," he said. "Too loud, too emotional, too everything. But then I met someone who made me realize that being myself isn't a flaw. It's just… me."
When the applause came, it was gentle. Respectful.
Kayo looked up just long enough to see that no one was laughing.
And for once, he smiled.
That night, Takara pulled out a deck of cards and flopped onto Kayo's bed.
Kayo looked at him warily. "What now?"
"Tarot."
"That's not a tarot deck."
"It is now."
Kayo snorted as Takara dramatically shuffled the cards.
"Pick one. It'll tell you your romantic destiny."
Kayo reached out and pulled a card.
"The three of hearts," Takara declared. "That means… you'll be kissed under the stars within 24 hours."
Kayo raised an eyebrow. "Convenient."
Takara leaned in, eyes bright. "Do you want to test fate?"
Kayo didn't hesitate this time.
He kissed him—slow, careful, but certain.
When they pulled apart, Takara's voice was soft.
"That's cheating."
"I'm finally catching up," Kayo murmured.