The Class That Cried Werewolf

49 - Seasonal Encounters

-3rd Person POV-

The rooftop was bathed in silver moonlight, its soft glow casting an ethereal sheen over the quiet expanse. The wind sighed through the railing, tousling Tatsuya's hair as he leaned heavily against the cold metal, staring out at the skyline with unseeing eyes. The jagged silhouettes of buildings cut against the star-speckled sky, a sharp contrast to the haze clouding his mind. His thoughts churned relentlessly, clashing and swirling like an untamed storm. Each question, each memory, each flicker of doubt gnawed at him, a thousand sharp edges tearing away at his composure.

A soft, almost hesitant shuffle of footsteps echoed behind him. He stiffened, the sound snapping his focus back to the present. Slowly, he turned, his eyes narrowing as they caught the faint shimmer of moonlight on translucent air and the soft fabric of pastel-patterned pajamas.

Hagakure stepped into view, her outline faint but unmistakable, the loose sleeves and pant legs swaying with her every hesitant movement. Her presence felt fragile yet heavy, a quiet tension filling the space between them. She stopped a few feet away, her hands fidgeting in front of her, fingers gripping the hem of her top as if trying to wrestle her indecision into submission.

"You said you wanted to talk," she said softly, her cautious, uncertain voice carrying the weight of something unspoken, something she wasn't ready to confront but couldn't ignore any longer.

Tatsuya pushed off the railing, crossing his arms as his piercing gaze locked onto her. The wind ruffled his clothes, but he stood unmoving, his posture firm, though tension radiated from him like a drawn bowstring. "I want to know why you've been avoiding me," he said, his tone steady but edged with frustration. There was no preamble, no softness to cushion the blow. "Ever since we moved into the dorms, it's like you're trying to stay as far away from me as possible. But you'll joke with everyone else, talk to them like nothing's wrong. So why? Why am I the exception?"

Hagakure's breath hitched, her body stiffening as if struck. The question hung in the air, unanswered, as her gaze dropped to the ground. Her lips parted, but no words came. For a moment, she was silent, the weight of his demand forcing her to confront emotions she had long buried.

"You don't get it," she said finally, her voice trembling but firm, her words slicing through the tension with an edge born of frustration.

"Then explain it to me," Tatsuya demanded, his voice rising with desperation and impatience. He took a step closer, his arms dropping to his sides as his expression hardened. "Because I'm tired of guessing. I can tell how angry you are—how much you're hurting. And I can't figure out what I did to deserve it."

"You don't get it because you don't care!" Hagakure snapped, her voice cracking as her composure crumbled. Her hands clenched into trembling fists, her emotions finally breaking free. "You act like nothing matters—like you don't matter!"

Tatsuya flinched, the impact of her words and her sudden outburst momentarily breaking through his stoic façade. He recovered quickly, his jaw tightening as he forced his emotions back down. "That's not true," he said firmly, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

"Yes, it is!" she shot back, her voice cracking with the weight of her pain. "You throw yourself into danger again and again, like you're trying to prove something, and you don't care what it does to the people who—" Her voice faltered, her words catching on the emotion swelling in her chest. "The people who care about you," she finished, her tone raw, her gaze accusing.

Tatsuya tried to counter, but the words refused to come. Instead, he turned away, his fists clenching at his sides. "You don't understand," he muttered, his voice low and pained.