Episode2

The bell had barely finished ringing before the classroom dissolved into noise again.

Chairs scraped. Bags dropped. Voices overlapped into a messy hum of after-class relief.

Sora Kanzaki didn’t join any of it.

He sat near the window, one arm resting lazily on the desk, his chin propped against his knuckles. His gaze drifted outside, unfocused, as if the world beyond the glass held more interest than anything inside the room.

It didn’t.

But at least it was quieter.

“Sora!”

The familiar voice came from the doorway.

Loud. Unrestrained.

Annoying.

Daichi Kuroda leaned against the frame, grinning like he owned the place.

“Cafeteria,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Behind him, Ryohei and Keita were already arguing about something pointless, while Yuta scrolled through his phone, only half-listening.

Sora didn’t answer immediately.

Then, with a slow exhale, he stood up.

Not because he wanted to.

But because staying was just as boring.

The group gathered naturally around him as they walked down the corridor.

Not too close.

Not too far.

Like they had unconsciously formed an orbit—with Sora at the center.

“So,” Ryohei smirked, glancing sideways at him, “what do you feel like eating today, Kanzaki-sama?”

There was a teasing lilt to his voice, but also something else.

Curiosity.

Daichi nudged Sora’s shoulder lightly. “Yeah, tell us. We’ll get it for you.”

Sora glanced at them briefly.

“You’re not my servants,” he said flatly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Keita laughed. “We’re offering.”

Sora didn’t respond.

Because he knew—

They would do it anyway.

As they turned the corner near the vending machines, Daichi suddenly stopped.

“Oh—perfect timing.”

Before anyone could ask what he meant, he reached out—

And grabbed someone by the collar.

A quiet gasp escaped.

A boy.

Thin. Slightly smaller than the others.

Wearing glasses that sat just a little crooked on his face.

His eyes were red.

Like he had been crying.

“Found you,” Daichi said casually, pulling him forward. “We were just looking for you.”

“I—I was just going back to class—” the boy stammered, struggling slightly to keep his balance.

“Yeah? Well, now you’re not.”

Yuta snorted softly.

“Perfect errand boy, right on time.”

The boy’s grip tightened around the strap of his bag.

His gaze flickered—

From Daichi.

To the others.

And then—

To Sora.

And it stayed there.

Not by accident.

Not briefly.

It lingered.

Sora noticed.

Of course he did.

He always noticed things like that.

That look.

Expectation.

Hope.

It was faint.

Fragile.

But unmistakable.

Like the boy was silently asking—

“You’ll stop this, right?”

Sora held his gaze for a second.

Then looked away.

“Oi,” Daichi smirked, giving the boy a small shove forward. “Sora’s here. Say hi properly.”

The boy stumbled slightly, catching himself just in time.

“I—I’m sorry,” he whispered instinctively, even though no one had accused him of anything yet.

“Why are you apologizing?” Ryohei laughed. “We didn’t even start.”

A few chuckles followed.

Sora stood there, quiet.

Watching.

Detached.

“What should we get, Sora?” Keita asked again, like the boy in front of them wasn’t even part of the scene.

Before Sora could answer—

The boy moved.

Just slightly.

He wiped his eyes quickly with the sleeve of his uniform.

Trying to compose himself.

Trying to look… normal.

But his gaze—

It returned to Sora again.

Still expecting something.

Still hoping.

That was when Sora spoke.

“Stop.”

The word wasn’t loud.

But it cut through everything.

The laughter faded.

The movement paused.

Even Daichi loosened his grip slightly.

The boy froze.

Slowly—

Carefully—

He looked up.

For a moment—

Something flickered in his eyes.

Relief.

Sora stepped closer.

Not too close.

Just enough.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

The boy blinked.

Surprised.

“H-Haru,” he said softly. “Haru… Haru Minamoto.”

The name settled in the air.

Haru Minamoto.

Sora repeated it silently in his head.

Once.

Then he looked at him properly.

Messy hair.

Red eyes.

(something like this)

Hands trembling slightly.

Pathetic.

And yet—

“Why do you always look at me like that?” Sora asked.

The question came out calm.

Neutral.

But it hit harder than shouting.

Haru stiffened.

“I—I don’t—”

“You do,” Sora interrupted.

Silence.

“Every time you run errands,” he continued, voice even, “you look at me.”

Haru’s lips parted slightly.

But no words came out.

Because it was true.

He did look.

Not because he wanted to.

But because—

He thought—

Maybe—

Sora tilted his head slightly.

His eyes met Haru’s directly.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he said.

Haru’s breath caught.

“Even if I date boys,” Sora continued, his tone unchanged, “I’m not interested in you.”

The words landed.

Heavy.

Sharp.

Final.

For a second—

Haru didn’t react.

It was like his mind hadn’t caught up yet.

Like it refused to.

Because if it did—

Then that small, fragile hope he didn’t even realize he was holding…

Would disappear completely.

“…I wasn’t—” Haru tried to speak.

But his voice broke halfway.

Sora didn’t wait for him to finish.

“Go bring me a coke,” he said.

Simple.

Casual.

Like nothing important had just happened.

Like Haru was nothing more than—

Exactly what they treated him as.

An errand boy.

Haru stood there for a second longer.

His fingers tightened slightly around his bag.

His lips pressed together.

Then—

He nodded.

“…Okay.”

Quiet.

Small.

He turned—

And walked toward the vending machine.

No one stopped him.

No one said anything.

Behind him—

The group shifted again.

“Damn,” Yuta muttered under his breath. “You didn’t have to say it like that.”

Ryohei glanced at Sora, eyes narrowing slightly—not in disapproval, but curiosity.

“You really don’t hold back, huh?”

Daichi chuckled lightly. “At least now he’ll stop staring at you like a lost puppy.”

Sora didn’t respond.

His gaze followed Haru’s retreating figure for a brief moment.

The way his shoulders seemed just a little smaller than before.

The way his steps were careful.

Measured.

Like he was trying not to fall apart.

Then—

Sora looked away.

“Coke,” he said simply.

A few seconds later—

Haru returned.

He held out the cold can with both hands.

Carefully.

Like it mattered.

Sora took it without touching his fingers.

“Thanks,” he said.

Polite.

Distant.

Haru nodded again.

And this time—

When he looked at Sora—

There was no expectation.

No hope.

Just—

Silence.

Sora noticed that too.

But he didn’t say anything.

He just opened the can.

And took a sip.

It tasted the same as always.

Sweet.

Cold.

And completely uninteresting.

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