Aoi sat by the window during sixth period, her textbook open but her mind far, far away.
Outside, the trees swayed gently, but all she could feel was the phantom heat of Mizuki's body against hers.
Her scent was still on Aoi's skin.
That soft, barely-there vanilla mixed with something sharper—like ink and secrets.
It was dizzying.
Her fingers twitched, remembering the shape of Mizuki's hands, the way they held hers with such quiet desperation. How her fingertips had grazed her waist. How their foreheads had touched like something sacred.
Aoi's cheeks burned.
She turned the page in her book, even though she hadn't read a single word.
"Yamamoto," the teacher called.
Her head snapped up.
"Yes?"
"Can you answer the question on page 136?"
Page 136…?
Her heart sank.
But then, from the other side of the room, Mizuki's voice rang out smoothly.
"She's not feeling well today, sensei. I can help."
The teacher blinked. "Alright, Mizuki-san. Go ahead."
Aoi stared at Mizuki's back. Perfect posture. Calm tone. As if nothing had happened.
As if they weren't breaking some invisible rule by simply looking at each other.
She hated her for that.
And loved her for it, too.
After school, Aoi didn't expect Mizuki to wait.
But she was there.
Leaning casually against the gate, bag slung over one shoulder, her eyes tracking every movement of the crowd—until they landed on her.
"Walk with me," Mizuki said simply.
Aoi hesitated.
But then followed.
They didn't speak for a while. Just walked.
The wind had picked up, tugging at their skirts. Mizuki's hair whipped lightly against Aoi's shoulder, and it made her skin erupt in goosebumps.
"So," Aoi said, trying to sound casual. "About earlier…"
Mizuki's expression didn't change.
"You don't have to say anything," she said.
"But I want to."
A pause.
"I wanted you to kiss me."
That stopped Mizuki mid-step.
Aoi didn't look at her—she couldn't. Her heart was thudding too loudly in her chest.
"I'm glad you didn't," she added, quieter now. "But I still wanted you to."
Slowly, Mizuki stepped closer again.
Not touching.
But her presence was a pull.
"I knew," she said.
"Because of my eyes?"
Mizuki nodded.
Aoi finally looked up at her.
There it was again—that unbearable closeness. That ache that sat right beneath her ribs.
"You're dangerous," Aoi whispered.
Mizuki smirked, just slightly. "So are you."
They were at the train station now. People passed around them, not noticing the silent war between them.
"Same train?" Mizuki asked.
Aoi nodded.
They boarded. Stood side by side. Not holding the rail—just standing, shoulders brushing.
Every bump of the train sent a spark up her spine.
She knew people were around.
She knew anyone could look.
But in that moment, all Aoi felt was the heat where Mizuki's arm met hers.
And the maddening realization:
Her body wanted more.
Much more.