The classroom was hotter than usual.
Spring hadn't fully settled in, but the sun streamed through the high windows like it had something to prove. Aoi shifted uncomfortably at her desk, sweat clinging to the back of her neck. She rolled up her sleeves, the collar of her uniform already too tight.
Mizuki entered the room last, as always.
But today, she didn't head to her usual seat in the back.
She walked straight to Aoi's desk.
Aoi stiffened, expecting a glance, a comment, something vague and teasing.
But Mizuki didn't say a word.
She pulled out the chair next to her—an empty one usually claimed by someone else—and sat down without looking at anyone. The class quieted almost instantly. All eyes flicked between Mizuki and Aoi like a silent question hanging in the air.
Aoi didn't look at her. She couldn't. But she could feel her—too close. Her thigh brushed Aoi's just barely. Her scent was the same as that rainy afternoon—peachy, subtle, addicting. Aoi gripped her pen harder.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, trying to keep her voice flat.
"Being near you," Mizuki said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Aoi dared a sideways glance. Mizuki had her chin resting in her hand, her elbow on the desk, eyes fixed on the blackboard with a bored expression. But her leg hadn't moved.
If anything, it was pressing in more deliberately now.
The teacher entered, and the lesson began. Aoi tried to focus. She really did.
But her body betrayed her.
Every time Mizuki shifted slightly, it sent another jolt through her. Her breath was shallow. Her notes were messy. She wasn't even pretending to write at this point.
Then—Mizuki leaned over.
Her hand slipped under the desk, resting lightly on the edge of Aoi's chair. Not touching her. Just… hovering.
Aoi's heart pounded.
Mizuki turned her head ever so slightly, lips close to Aoi's ear. Her breath tickled.
"You're warm today," she whispered.
Aoi's grip on her pen tightened until it almost cracked.
"I'm always warm," she shot back, flustered.
"Not like this."
The room around them melted into a blur of voices and chalk squeaks. It could have been a hundred people or none at all. For Aoi, it was only her, only Mizuki—only the invisible string pulling her tighter.
Then suddenly—
A small touch.
Not her hand. Just Mizuki's pinky brushing Aoi's beneath the desk.
It was barely anything.
But it felt like everything.
Aoi didn't pull away.
She didn't move at all.
She sat there, her pulse roaring in her ears, her whole body still, except for that one place where skin met skin in the smallest rebellion imaginable.
Class ended. Chairs scraped. Students stood. Voices returned.
Mizuki rose like nothing had happened.
Aoi was still frozen.
She turned back once, the faintest smile on her lips. "See you after school."
And just like that, she was gone—taking the heat with her, leaving Aoi in the ruins of a single touch.