The snow had mostly melted by the time the class returned to campus. The once-icy paths were now lined with slush, and the trees that framed the walkways had begun budding, a sign that spring was creeping in with its quiet, persistent charm.
Classes resumed. So did club activities, student council meetings, and the usual afterschool chaos.
But for Leo Shen, things didn't go back to normal.
Because something had shifted.
Not dramatically. Not all at once. But like a lens slowly coming into focus.
And it all started with a message.
> "Library rooftop. After classes. Come alone. -Rin"
Leo read it three times, unsure whether to feel nervous or curious. Rin rarely asked him for anything directly. Her quiet nature usually meant waiting—for others to speak first, to move first.
So Leo went.
---
The rooftop above the library was one of the school's quietest corners. It wasn't locked, but most students either didn't know about it or simply didn't care.
Rin stood at the far end, overlooking the eastern side of campus, where the early cherry blossoms had begun blooming.
Pink petals danced in the breeze, drifting over her like a soft watercolor.
She didn't turn when he approached. Not immediately.
Only when he stepped beside her, hands tucked in his coat pockets, did she finally speak.
"I like this spot," she said. "It's quiet."
Leo nodded. "Yeah. You can see almost everything from here."
A pause.
Then Rin turned, looking at him directly.
"You've changed."
Leo blinked. "Huh?"
"You're more… present. More grounded. You don't just watch anymore. You speak."
Leo smiled faintly. "I guess I had a lot of help."
Rin hesitated. Her fingers brushed the edge of her sketchbook, which she held like a shield.
"I'm not good at this," she admitted. "Talking. Being honest. But I need to say this while I still have the courage."
Leo's breath caught.
Rin continued, voice soft but steady.
"I've liked you for a long time, Leo. Before the others noticed you. Before you started collecting attention like stardust."
Leo blinked. "…Rin—"
She held up a hand. "I'm not asking for an answer. Not yet. I just… I wanted you to know. Because I don't want to keep pretending I don't care."
Silence.
Only the sound of petals rustling.
Rin looked away. "You don't have to say anything."
Leo exhaled. "I won't pretend either. What you said… it means a lot."
She finally smiled—small, but real.
"I'm glad."
---
That night, Leo couldn't sleep.
Not because of what Rin had said, but because of how it made him feel.
Not overwhelmed. Not pressured.
Just… seen.
Understood.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if he'd ever made Yuki or Hana feel the same.
---
The next morning brought another surprise.
Aira.
The childhood friend he hadn't seen in years had transferred in silently last week, and today, she was standing beside his desk holding a neatly packed bento.
"You forgot lunch again, didn't you?" she said, tone half-scolding, half-amused.
Leo blinked. "You… made this?"
She smiled. "Of course. I've been feeding you since you were ten. I'm not stopping now."
From across the room, Yuki stiffened mid-giggle.
Hana, stretching by the window, raised an eyebrow.
Rin's eyes narrowed slightly.
Aira placed the bento on his desk, leaned in a little, and whispered, "Eat it all. Or I'll lecture you like Aunt May used to."
Then she straightened and left.
Kai, from the next desk, leaned over.
"Bro. That's a new contender. You're screwed."
Leo stared at the bento.
And he knew.
Spring had come.
And with it, a storm of hearts.