As I stepped into the convenience store, the cool air hit my face. I grabbed a basket and headed toward the aisle with the instant meals.
And then—bump.
I stumbled back slightly, nearly dropping the basket.
"Ah, sorry—oh, it's you," the girl said casually.
It was her. Haruka Shion.
My inner voice kicked in, sharp and automatic.
She's one of them. Smart. Always socializing. Top student. Athletic. How in the world does someone manage all that?
"Um, sorry," I muttered, voice low and sharp—just unfriendly enough to make it clear: don't talk to me.
She blinked, a little caught off guard, but said nothing.
As I turned my back and walked away, my thoughts picked up again.
Why would I care if she was born with talent? It doesn't matter. If I don't give her meaning, she wouldn't even exist.
The school festival was coming up. The noise, the fake smiles, the stupid competitions—it all made my skin crawl.
It wasn't that I was bad at sports.
I just didn't see the point.
Why would I compete against someone who only exists because I gave them meaning?
I turned the corner of the school building, lost in thought—
—and froze.
There she was. Haruka Shion.
She was practicing cheerleading moves in front of a mirror propped up outside.
Alone.
No music. No coach. No crowd.
Just her, stumbling through steps, arms awkward, face serious.
She wasn't even part of the cheer team.
I stood there, caught in the moment, and before I could turn away—
"Do you need something from me?" she asked, pausing her routine.
My voice came out too fast. "No, I need something from this room."
I glanced around.
The room was empty.
No supplies. No purpose.
She tilted her head, smirking just a little.
"Do you really need something from this room?"
My mind started spiraling.
Why am I embarrassed? I just saw someone practicing. That's all. Why does this feel like getting caught doing something wrong?
I cleared my throat.
"Sorry for interrupting."
And without another word, I turned and walked away—faster than I meant to.
---
Just as I turned to leave, her voice called out again—calm, curious.
"You always act like that with people?"
I paused mid-step, my back still to her.
"Like what?" I muttered, almost defensive.
"Like you're allergic to connection."
That one stung more than I expected.
I turned around slowly, my eyes blank, my tone flat.
"What's the point in connecting with someone who only exists because I let them?"
She raised an eyebrow but didn't seem surprised.
"That's a weird way to say you're lonely."
My heart skipped.
I wanted to reply—wanted to shut her down with one of my usual cold lines—but nothing came. She was still smiling, but it wasn't mocking. It was… soft. Genuine.
"You don't talk much, but your silence is really loud, you know?"
I looked away.
"You talk too much."
"And yet, you're still here," she said, stepping aside. "So… want to sit for a minute?"
I scoffed.
"Why would I sit with someone who's obviously lower than me? I don't see any benefit."
She looked away, gazing out the window with a soft breath.
"You're right. Why would I sit with someone who's obviously lower than me?"
I smirked. Victory, again.
But then—
A pause. A flicker.
Wait.
...Did she just—?
My smile faded ever so slightly.
She never looked back at me. She didn't have to.
And for the first time, I felt like the one being observed.
---