𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.

── .✦ 10

(A/N: Don't forget to play the link above for more immersive read.)

The week passed in a kind of grayscale blur—no classes, no announcements, just caution tape and whispers that trailed through the halls long after the police had left. The air at Akademi still hadn't cleared, and neither had her head.

Y/n hadn't checked her phone in three days. Taeko had texted, Akira too, but she couldn't bring herself to type more than a couple of half-hearted replies. As for Ayato... she didn't really know what she'd even say. He wasn't the type to check in, and she wasn't exactly in the mood to pretend she was okay.

So, she disappeared. Not in the dramatic sense—she just stopped showing up. Slept in, barely moved, sat in silence with Pochi curled against her side like a tiny, fuzzy therapist who didn't ask questions.

But cabin fever creeps up eventually. And by the fourth day, she found herself walking toward the park, bundled up in an old wool coat with a book tucked under her arm that she didn't really plan on reading.

The bench near the lake was cold, but empty. Quiet. She sat down, exhaled, and watched her breath rise like smoke. There were joggers looping around the water, a few parents wrangling sugar-high toddlers, and geese fighting over a crust of bread like it was a gold bar.

She opened her book, stared at the same paragraph three times, then gave up. Her eyes drifted to the lake. Her mind—somehow—drifted to Ayato.

It wasn't on purpose. She wasn't trying to figure him out. But there was something about stillness that made thoughts louder, and unfortunately, he was one of them.

It was weird, honestly. She'd had Akira—a guy who was sweet, kind, didn't talk like a serial killer—and somehow her brain was stuck on Ayato. The one who barely gave authentic affection— treats it like a negotiation. The one who looked at people like they were problems to solve.

She wasn't even sure she liked him. Not in the way people liked people.

Maybe it was the mystery. Maybe it was the fact he'd never once tried to impress her. Or maybe it was just the stupid thrill of not knowing if he'd save her or destroy her. Either way, it didn't make sense.

A part of her thought it was sad, sitting alone in the cold, trying to make sense of a boy who probably hadn't even thought of her once since they last saw each other. But another part of her didn't care. It wasn't about him, really—it was just... everything. The silence. The aftermath. The static in her brain that wouldn't shut off.

She rubbed her hands together, the wind biting her knuckles.

"God, I need to get a grip," she muttered to herself, letting the words hang in the air like condensation.

She wasn't in love. That would be absurd.

But something was definitely off. And Ayato was tangled in the middle of it.

Y/n's mind had been whirring for what felt like hours when a voice brought her back to the world around her.

"Is there anyone sitting here?"

Startled, she looked up and saw....Amao?

What was he doing here?

His familiar, soft expression greeted her warmly in the afternoon light. His smile brought with it a calm she hadn't realized she'd been needing, and she hurriedly grabbed her book, placing it on her lap in an attempt to appear composed as soon as she snapped out of her trance.

"Oh—no, go ahead," she managed, her cheeks warming (embarrassed she looked out of it) as he settled on the bench beside her.

A gentle quiet fell over them, punctuated by the soft sounds of nature around them, until Amao broke the silence with his ever-kind voice. "You looked deep in thought, like you were working through something big. What were you thinking about?" he asked, his eyes intent on her.