Yuuji avoided Ren for two days.
Not that he made it obvious—he still went to class, still walked the same halls, still did his duty in the library. But he changed his timing, made excuses to leave early, sat slightly farther from the window. He found corners. Safe zones.
And he told himself it was working. That whatever had happened in Room 3-B had been a mistake. A trick of the rain, the dim light, the way Ren said his name like it meant something.
But the truth was simpler.
Yuuji was afraid.
Afraid of the way his heart had clenched when Ren touched his collar. Afraid of the way he hadn't pulled back until the very last second. Afraid of what it would mean if Ren actually meant those words.
So he built a wall. Quiet. Efficient. Familiar.
But Ren noticed.
Of course he did.
—
It came to a head on a cloudy Thursday afternoon in the library.
The air was thick with silence. Yuuji sat behind the desk, sorting overdue slips, trying to will Ren away with sheer force of will. But he knew before Ren even spoke that he was coming.
He could feel him.
"Cold shoulders now?" Ren's voice came from behind the desk, casual but sharp.
"I'm working," Yuuji replied, eyes fixed on the paper in front of him.
"You've been avoiding me."
"I've been busy."
"Right," Ren said dryly. "Too busy to make eye contact?"
Yuuji looked up at that, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like forever.
Ren's expression wasn't mocking. It wasn't teasing. It was… hurt. Covered in sarcasm, sure, but the kind of sarcasm you wear like armor.
Yuuji looked away again.
"I don't want to play your games anymore," he said quietly.
Ren's mouth pressed into a line. "It wasn't a game."
"Then what was it?" Yuuji snapped, louder than intended. The silence of the library amplified it, and he flinched.
Ren stared at him for a long moment, then leaned forward, palms flat on the desk.
"I like you."
The words hit like thunder—quiet, but impossible to ignore.
Yuuji's breath caught. "Don't."
"I'm not joking. I'm not messing around. I'm not trying to 'get under your skin' anymore." Ren's voice dropped. "I just… like you, okay?"
Yuuji stood up abruptly, the chair scraping. "You don't even know me."
Ren's jaw clenched. "Then let me."
"You don't get to say that!" Yuuji burst out. His voice cracked, the mask slipping. "You don't get to waltz into my life, break everything open, and then act like I'm supposed to just—let you in!"
The silence that followed was deafening.
Ren stepped back slowly. His voice, when he spoke again, was quiet. Almost hollow.
"You think I'm trying to hurt you?"
Yuuji's throat worked. "I think I don't know what you want."
"I want you," Ren said. "Messy, anxious, rule-following you. I like the way you get flustered. I like the way you look when you're pretending not to care. I like that you actually do."
Yuuji felt like the ground was shifting beneath him.
"That's not fair," he whispered.
"I know."
Ren stepped back again. "You don't have to say anything. I just… wanted you to know. I won't push."
And with that, he turned and walked out of the library.
Yuuji sank back into his chair, heart pounding in his ears.
He had never been more terrified in his life.
But beneath the fear, something else had cracked open—something warmer, sharper, frighteningly alive.
He just didn't know if he could survive what would come next.
--