The city felt colder than before.

Ili walked without direction, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, the cool air biting at his skin. The hum of life around him—people chatting, the distant rush of traffic, the occasional laughter of passing strangers—felt detached, like white noise in the background of his thoughts.

He told himself he wasn’t thinking about Kouko.

But no matter how much he tried, her laughter, her smile, the way her eyes had softened when she opened his gift played in a loop in his mind, a reel of moments he couldn’t shut off.

She was happy.

Wasn’t that what mattered?

Then why did something in his chest feel like it was slowly being pulled apart?

His steps slowed as he turned down a side street, his eyes catching the warm glow of a small café. The golden lights spilled onto the sidewalk, illuminating the cold pavement. The faint aroma of coffee and pastries drifted through the air.

He hadn’t meant to stop.

But something about the scene tugged at him.

That’s when he saw her.

Through the large glass window, Kouko sat at a table, her golden hair catching the light as she laughed at something Mika said.

The group was gathered around her—Mika, Rina, Haru, Daiki—all in easy conversation. Plates of desserts and coffee cups lay scattered between them, the warmth of their conversation radiating even from a distance.

And then—

His gaze landed on him.

Sitting beside Kouko, close—too close—his posture relaxed, his attention fixed on her like no one else in the room existed.

Ili’s stomach tightened.

The way Kouko’s cheeks were faintly pink, the way she glanced at Tatsuya as he leaned in slightly toward her—

A strange, sharp pang shot through his chest, something that wasn’t quite jealousy, wasn’t quite anger—just a weight he didn’t know how to name.

His feet had carried him to the café entrance before he even realized it.

He hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle.

This is stupid. You should leave.

But before he could convince himself otherwise, his feet moved forward.

The Moment That Changed Everything.

The warmth of the café hit Ili instantly—a stark contrast to the cold weight pressing against his chest. The place was alive with conversation, the clinking of glasses, and bursts of laughter. Yet, the sounds barely registered.

His focus locked onto them.

Tatsuya leaned in slightly, his body language composed, rehearsed. He spoke softly, but his words cut through the air like a sharpened edge.

"Kouko, I’ve been meaning to tell you…”

The casualness of his tone made it worse.

Ili’s steps faltered.

Tatsuya’s gaze never wavered. His confidence was unsettling, effortless—like a performer delivering his lines with perfect precision.

"I like you."

The words landed like a punch to the ribs, knocking the air from Ili’s lungs.

A sharp, twisting ache settled deep in his chest.

Kouko blinked, caught completely off guard. Her lips parted, her breath shallow. "I…" The word barely escaped her, trembling with hesitation.

She didn’t answer.

She didn’t push him away.

Ili wasn’t sure what he had expected.

But not this.

His footsteps echoed softly across the wooden floor—enough to slice through the moment. The table shifted as heads turned, conversations dying mid-sentence.

Kouko’s head snapped toward him, her eyes wide with something raw. Guilt.

For a fleeting second, she looked unguarded—vulnerable in a way that made his stomach drop.

Then, just as quickly, it vanished.

She smiled. Too bright. Too casual. Too practiced.

"Ili! I thought you weren’t coming."

Her voice was light—too light.

Ili swallowed down the bitter taste in his mouth.

She was deflecting. She was hiding something.

Yet, somehow, he still managed a small, strained smile.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice quieter than intended. "I guess I changed my mind."

A moment stretched between them—something fragile, delicate, ready to snap under the slightest weight.

Ili didn’t look away from her. His gaze, sharp and searching, seemed to strip away the mask she had so carefully put in place. Kouko shifted under his stare, her fingers tightening around her glass as if bracing herself. For what, even she wasn’t sure.

Then, slowly, Ili’s gaze moved.

Not to the others.

‎ Not to the empty space between them.

‎ But directly to him.

Tatsuya.

The deliberate shift carried weight—an unspoken message. I know what you’re doing.

The moment their eyes met, something in Ili's body reacted. A faint pressure—not quite pain, but something eerily close—gripped his temples. A flicker of something distant, like a memory just out of reach, a voice from the past whispering through static. His breath caught for a fraction of a second.

Why does he feel so familiar, it’s like having a déjà vu?

Tatsuya didn’t flinch, but there was a slight straightening of his posture. A barest flicker of unease passed through his expression before he masked it with a slow, practiced smirk. His control was near-perfect. But not absolute.

He leaned back, stretching just slightly, reclaiming his space. His space.

The air thickened.

Kouko cleared her throat lightly, shifting in her seat. Her fingers brushed against the wisteria charm Ili had given her—barely noticeable, yet she noticed.

‎ For a second, she looked as though she wanted to say something.

But she never got the chance.

Tatsuya spoke first.

He leaned forward, his posture still casual, but there was a quiet challenge in the way his eyes flickered over Ili—measuring him.

"You must be Ili," he said smoothly. His tone was polite, but the undercurrent of amusement was undeniable. The way he said Ili’s name—like he already knew him, like he had already decided something about him—made Ili’s jaw tighten.

‎"I’ve heard a lot about you."

Ili tilted his head slightly. The motion was slow. Careful. Controlled. His expression revealed nothing.

"And you are?" His voice was unreadable—calm, but carrying the same sharpness as a hidden blade.

Tatsuya’s smirk deepened.

"Tatsuya."

He extended a hand.

"I’ve heard a lot about you."

Ili’s brow twitched.

‎ I haven’t heard a damn thing about you.

His eyes flickered toward Kouko—just for a fraction of a second—but she quickly looked away, her fingers curling around her glass. That was enough. That hesitation. That silence.

Ili inhaled.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

‎ Then, he took Tatsuya’s offered hand.

Firm grip. No hesitation.

For the first second, it was just a handshake. Then—a shift.

The pressure between their grips increased. Subtle, but undeniable.

A silent challenge.

Tatsuya’s grip was calculated—just strong enough to demand dominance, but not enough to seem obvious. He was testing the waters. Measuring control.

Ili squeezed back—not overbearing, not forceful. Just firm enough. Unshaken.

A flicker of something crossed Tatsuya’s face. A pause. Barely noticeable. But there.

Then—his smirk widened just a fraction. Fake. Forced. A cover-up.

The handshake lingered longer than necessary.

A dull throb pulsed behind Ili’s eyes. A fragmented, distorted image flashed in his mind—shadows, a scuffle, pain—his body hitting the ground. A voice. Tatsuya’s voice.

No.

What the hell was that?

The moment passed before Ili could grasp it.

Then, just as suddenly, Ili released first.

His expression softened—like a switch had flipped, like he had just decided that Tatsuya wasn’t even worth the effort.

Tatsuya blinked. His smirk faltered. A fraction of a second. A glitch in his perfect control.

Kouko’s lips parted slightly, but no words came.

Ili turned slightly toward her, dismissing Tatsuya effortlessly.

"So," he said smoothly, too smoothly, "you seem to be in good company."

Kouko hesitated. Too long.

She blinked, caught between uncertainty and something deeper—something tangled and unreadable.

"Ili…" she started, but her words trailed off.

Tatsuya let out a short chuckle, stretching back in his seat.

The smirk remained, but something behind his eyes had shifted—something guarded now.

"Yeah, we’ve got a good group," he said, throwing a glance at the others before looking back at Ili. "You should join us sometime."

Ili’s smile didn’t waver.

His gaze flickered across the group, his expression remaining unreadable.

"Daiki," he started, nodding toward the guy currently debating with Haru. "Haru." He then gestured toward the girls. "Rina, Mika."

Finally, his eyes settled on Kouko.

A brief pause.

‎ A beat too long.

Something unspoken.

Then, Ili’s lips curled slightly. His voice was light—too light.

"I already have."

Tatsuya’s smirk froze. Half a second. Not long. But Ili caught it.

Then, he covered it with a chuckle.

‎"Oh? Guess I missed that."

Ili shrugged.

‎"Yeah. You did."

For once, Tatsuya had no immediate retort.

And Kouko?

She wasn’t sure what she was feeling.

Ili exhaled slowly, his face slipping into a polite, measured smile—one that lacked warmth.

"I just thought I’d stop by," he said evenly. "Don’t worry—I won’t stay long. I don’t want to intrude on your birthday."

Kouko’s eyes widened slightly. Surprise. Guilt.

"Intrude? Ili, you wouldn’t—"

"It’s fine," he cut in, gently but firmly. "Really. I just wanted to stop by and say… happy birthday. I don’t think I said that earlier."

The casualness of his words didn’t match the storm brewing behind his gaze.

Kouko’s lips parted, as though she wanted to explain—maybe even apologize—but the words never came.

Ili didn’t give her the chance.

Without another word, he turned, walking toward the bar.

His steps were steady.

‎ Composed.

Despite the turmoil gripping his chest.

As he leaned against the counter, his fingers curling tightly around its edge and asking the bartender for a drink. He stared blankly at the amber liquid in the glass in front of him, the way the light refracted through it casting faint shadows on the countertop.

Ili swirled his iced tea absentmindedly, the ice clinking softly against the glass as faint trails of condensation dripped onto the polished countertop. The noise of the café buzzed behind him—laughter, clinking glasses, bursts of chatter—but it all felt distant, like a scene unfolding behind a glass wall.

He hadn’t meant to stay this long.

Told himself he’d just stop by for a drink, settle his thoughts, then head back out into the cold night.

Yet, here he was.

His grip tightened slightly around the glass, his gaze flickering toward the far side of the café—toward her.

Kouko.

She sat with her friends, surrounded by warmth and conversation. Mika was laughing, Rina leaned in, teasing Daiki about something, and Haru was chiming in with some exaggerated story. A scene so normal, so comfortable.

And then there was him.

Tatsuya.

The guy sat beside her, posture relaxed, leaning in just enough to command her attention. The way he spoke—**his casual, self-assured gestures—**it all carried an air of certainty that Ili found suffocating.

Why does he bother me so much? It wasn’t just Tatsuya’s confidence. It was the way Kouko smiled at him.

Even if it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Ili’s fingers twitched slightly around his glass, the cold barely registering against the slow heat rising in his chest.

He took another sip, the tea sharp against his throat.

Why am I still here?

The thought burned, sharp and accusatory.

Letting out a slow breath, he slid his chair back.

He needed to leave. Now.

As Ili stood, his fingers brushing the edge of his jacket, he heard the rustle of movement behind him.

Then, a voice. Soft. Familiar. “Oh… you’re still here.”

He turned, startled to find Kouko standing just a few feet away, drying her hands with a paper towel.

She looked… hesitant.

The warm café lights framed her golden hair, making her look almost ethereal, but there was something in her eyes—something unsure, something searching.

“I just wanted something to drink before I left,” Ili replied, his voice measured, steady. Though the sight of her this close made his chest tighten.

Kouko blinked, her surprise giving way to a faint smile.

But Ili caught it—the flicker of uncertainty hidden beneath it.

“You didn’t want to stay?” she asked lightly. “You could’ve sat with us, you know.”

Her voice was casual, but there was something else in her tone—like she was asking him something more.

Ili hesitated.

His gaze dropped briefly to the floor before meeting hers again.

“I didn’t want to intrude,” he said quietly. “It’s your night. You should enjoy it… without me complicating things.”

Kouko’s smile faltered.

Just for a second.

“Complicating things?” she echoed, her brows knitting together slightly.

She tilted her head, studying him. Trying to read him the way she always did.

“You wouldn’t have been complicating anything, Ili,” she murmured. “I… I wanted you to join us.”

The confession slipped out before she could stop it.

The air between them shifted.

Ili’s breath hitched.

She wanted him there.

She—

Kouko quickly looked away, as if suddenly realizing she had said too much.

Her fingers curled slightly against the crumpled paper towel in her hand, and for a moment, Ili swore he saw something fragile in her eyes.

Something she wasn’t saying.

Something she was holding back.

Just like him.

Ili’s sharp look melted into something softer.

His lips curved into a faint smile—the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” he said smoothly, his tone betraying nothing.

And just like that—he turned and walked away.

.

He inhaled deeply, the sharpness of the air stinging his lungs but clearing his mind just enough to steady his breathing. The sounds of the café faded behind him, replaced by the faint rustle of leaves and the distant hum of passing traffic.

Ili stared at the darkened street ahead, his chest tightening as he replayed the night again. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he fought the urge to turn back, to demand answers from Kouko, from himself, from anyone who might offer clarity to the chaos in his head.

But he didn’t. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets, his fingers brushing against the familiar shape of the wisteria pendant hidden within. The touch was both grounding and maddening, a reminder of something he couldn’t quite reach, couldn’t quite understand.

He exhaled, his breath visible in the cool air. Keep walking, he told himself. And so he did.