The tension lingered after Ili was gone, settling over the table like an unshaken storm.

Mika leaned toward Kouko, her voice low but sharp. “What was that about? He looked… off.”

"I don’t know," Kouko replied, too quickly, her voice tight. Her fingers curled around her glass, but her mind was already elsewhere. She could still hear his footsteps fading, disappearing into the night.

Rina frowned, gaze flicking between Kouko and Tatsuya. “It didn’t look like nothing,” she murmured. “He walked in like he was ready to start a fight.”

Tatsuya scoffed, leaning back in his chair, the smugness in his expression barely concealed. “What’s his deal anyway? He can’t handle a little competition?”

Kouko’s eyes snapped toward him, a flash of something cold and sharp breaking through her composure.

"Don’t."

The word cut through the noise like a blade.

Tatsuya’s smirk wavered.

“It’s not like that.”

Mika exchanged a glance with Rina, concern creeping into her expression. “You should talk to him,” she said quietly. “You know he won’t say anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s okay.”

Kouko didn’t answer. Her gaze lingered on the door. On the space where he had been.

The weight in her chest pressed harder.

"Sorry, I’ll be right back."

She didn’t wait for a response.

The café door swung shut behind her, the muffled hum of conversation fading into the crisp night air. The cold hit her skin immediately, but she barely felt it.

"Ili, wait."

The words left her before she could stop them—soft, hesitant, but unmistakable.

He stopped.

Mid-step.

His heart leaped against his will.

For a second, he debated pretending he hadn’t heard her. But then—he exhaled, turning slowly.

Kouko stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly, her posture tense. Whether she was shielding herself from the cold or from him, he couldn’t tell.

The glow of the streetlamp caught the strands of her golden hair, turning her almost ethereal, unreal—more than he could handle in that moment.

Ili swallowed, keeping his voice steady. "What do you want, Kouko?"

It came out sharper than he intended.

She flinched, her forced smile faltering.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A humorless chuckle left him, low and tired.

"Why wouldn’t I be?" His voice was too even. "It’s your birthday. You should be inside, celebrating."

Kouko hesitated, gaze dropping to the pavement. She shuffled her feet, the crackling of fallen leaves filling the silence.

"I didn’t mean for tonight to… turn out like this," she murmured, almost to herself.

Ili’s patience snapped.

"Turn out like what?" His voice sharpened. "Like me watching some guy tell you he likes you?"

Her head jerked up, shock flashing in her eyes—followed by guilt.

"It’s not like that," she said quickly. "I didn’t ask him to say that."

"No, but you didn’t stop him, either."

The words came out before he could stop them. His jaw tightened, anger twisting into something more dangerous—hurt.

He looked away.

"Forget it. It’s none of my business."

He turned to leave.

A hand caught his sleeve.

"Wait."

The tremor in her voice stopped him more than the touch itself.

Slowly, he turned back.

Her grip on his sleeve loosened. But she didn’t let go.

"I didn’t mean to hurt you."

Ili’s breath hitched.

The sincerity in her voice sliced through his anger like a blade.

"Then why does it feel like you did?"

Kouko’s hand fell to her side.

Her lips parted—but no words came.

“It’s… complicated.”

The words barely reached him, softer than the rustling leaves.

Ili stepped closer, his gaze unreadable. "You can’t explain? Or you won’t?"

She looked away, her arms tightening around herself.

"I don’t want to make things harder."

His chest ached.

"For who?" His voice cracked. "For me? Or for you?"

Her eyes flickered to his, glistening—unshed tears she refused to let fall.

"Ili… you’re important to me. You always have been. But this… it’s not that simple."

His breath left him in a slow exhale, visible in the cold air.

"Right."

A bitter smile touched his lips. "Nothing ever is."

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The air between them was thick, the tension hanging in the quiet night like a string pulled too tight.

The distant hum of the city faded, leaving only the faint rustle of leaves and the soft rhythm of their breaths. Kouko shifted, her arms wrapping tighter around herself as a shiver ran through her.

The night’s chill seemed to creep in all at once, the cold nipping at her skin.

Ili noticed. Without a word, he shrugged off his jacket. His movements were calm and deliberate, almost as if the weight of the moment didn’t touch him.

Taking a step closer, he draped the jacket gently over her shoulders. The fabric settled around her like a protective cocoon, its unexpected warmth making her breath hitch.

“You’ll catch a cold if you keep standing out here,” he said quietly.

His voice was softer now, stripped of its earlier sharpness, carrying a tenderness she hadn’t expected. It hung in the air between them, quiet yet undeniably present.

Kouko blinked, startled by the gesture. Her hands instinctively rose to clutch the jacket, holding it close as if afraid it might disappear.

She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but before she could, Ili offered her a faint, weary smile.

It wasn’t forced or polite, but it carried a weight she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Happy birthday, Kouko,” he said, his tone gentle yet final, as if those words held everything he couldn’t bring himself to say.

He didn’t wait for a response. Turning on his heel, he walked away, his figure slipping into the shadows of the street.

As Ili walked away, the cool night air biting at his skin, he couldn’t shake the weight pressing against his chest.

The faint scent of the café lingered in his senses, mixing with the fresh chill of the evening. His hands stuffed into his pockets, his fingers brushed against the smooth fabric of his shirt, the space where his jacket had been now empty.

Why does it hurt so much? The thought hit him like a sharp blow, raw and relentless. He barely knew her—or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

But no matter how hard he tried to push her from his mind, she lingered in every corner of his thoughts. Her smile, her voice, the way she had looked at him just now—it all cut deeper than he could bear.

His jaw tightened as his steps slowed. Why does she matter so much? The thought sent a pang through his chest, twisting into the empty space he couldn’t seem to fill. He shook his head, quickening his pace again. There was no answer, only the nagging sense that she meant more to him than he could explain.

The faint echo of his footsteps lingered in the still night, fading with every step until the silence returned.

Kouko stayed rooted in place, the night’s chill forgotten under the warmth of Ili’s jacket. The scent of him clung to the fabric—clean and familiar, stirring a rush of emotions she couldn’t suppress. Her fingers clutched the edges tighter, her gaze lingering on the empty street where he’d disappeared.

Why does he still do this to me? Her chest tightened as the question echoed in her mind. She had told herself to keep her distance, to be careful, to protect them both from what could happen. But every time she saw him—really saw him—the walls she had built felt paper-thin.

Her heart ached with unspoken words, emotions she couldn’t let surface. Why can’t I let go? The thought was like a whisper in the cold, heavy with feelings she had no right to hold onto. And yet, even as she stood there, wrapped in his warmth, she knew she couldn’t turn away—not completely.

The weekend had ended, and with it, the warmth of stolen moments.

A soft chime shattered the silence—her alarm, too familiar, too routine. But it wasn’t what woke her.

It was the weight against her fingertips.

Kouko stirred, her lashes fluttering against the pale morning light filtering through the curtains. Her hand had found something.

Something not her own.

The rustle of fabric beneath her touch sent a quiet ripple through her mind, pulling her fully into wakefulness.

Ili’s jacket.

It sat there, draped neatly over the back of her chair—unmoved since Saturday.

Her fingers hesitated over the worn fabric, tracing the seams absently. It was heavier than it looked. The scent of him still clung to it—faint, but present, like a whisper of something not meant to stay.

A breath caught in her throat.

She should return it.

She should fold it up, leave it in her bag, and drop it off with a simple, meaningless "thanks" the next time she saw him.

But she didn’t move.

Instead, she clutched the jacket closer, her fingers curling into the material, pressing into the warmth that wasn’t really there anymore.

The memory replayed unbidden.

The way the cold had crept into her skin. The way he had noticed before she had.

The way his hands—steady, deliberate—had lingered just a second too long as he draped the jacket over her shoulders.

The way he had looked at her.

Unreadable. Unspoken.

Something had shifted between them that night.

And she didn’t know how to put it back.

A soft heat crept up her cheeks, and she let out a quiet breath, pressing the jacket against her chest before forcing herself to pull away.

Does he think I chose… him?

The thought hit her like an unexpected gust of wind, twisting through her insides.

She had seen the way he looked at her, the way his voice had carried something he wasn’t saying.

But she had also seen the way he had left.

And the way she had let him.

She needed to move.

Shaking herself from the haze, she pushed off the bed, forcing her body to slip into the rhythm of routine. Shower. Clothes. Hair. Everything the same as it had always been.

Except it wasn’t.

Because no matter how hard she tried to push the thoughts away, they circled back.

Back to him.

Back to the weight of the jacket.

Back to the quiet way he had said, Happy birthday, Kouko.

Back to the fact that—for the first time in years, Ili wasn’t just Ili.

And that scared her more than anything.

The campus was already alive, buzzing with energy and movement, as students wove through the hallways, their voices overlapping like layers of sound. Conversations mixed into an indistinct hum, laughter echoing off the walls.

Kouko moved through the crowd, her steps slow, deliberate, the jacket folded carefully under her arm.

She had been trying to talk to Ili since the weekend.

But every time she gathered the courage, he was either surrounded by friends—or worse, avoiding her altogether.

And then—

There he was.

Rounding the corner, walking straight toward her.

Her breath hitched.

Ili’s bag was slung over one shoulder, his gaze slightly distant, unreadable. That expression—the one that was once familiar—now felt just a little too far away.

The jacket in her arms felt heavier.

Say something.

‎ Call out to him.

Her fingers twitched, clutching the fabric tighter.

But before she could even open her mouth—

"Kouko, did you finish the assignment for history yet?"

Mika’s voice cut through the moment, her presence suddenly beside her. Rina fell in step too, both girls chatting, their laughter breaking the silence she had barely realized was there.

Mika nudged her playfully, but Kouko barely reacted.

"Not yet," she replied absently, her voice distant.

Her eyes stayed locked on Ili.

Watching him grow closer.

Then—his gaze met hers.

A flicker of recognition. A second, maybe two.

But just as quickly—it passed.

Like a wave brushing the shore only to retreat again.

Ili’s lips curled into a polite, distant smile.

"Hey."

Hollow. A formality. A greeting without weight.

And then—he kept walking.

Didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Kouko’s breath caught.

Say something.

Her voice stayed locked in her throat as he moved past her, leaving only the faint, familiar scent of winter air in his wake.

She gripped the jacket tighter. Frustration bubbled beneath her quiet exterior.

Why didn’t I say anything?

‎ Why did it feel like the space between them had grown wider?

"Kouko!"

Her name snapped her back to reality.

Too familiar.

Too unwanted.

Tatsuya.

Her stomach twisted before she could stop it.

His presence was effortless—commanding in a way that made it seem like the world bent to accommodate him.

Mika and Rina exchanged uncertain glances, their curiosity evident.

Kouko turned, masking the unease curling in her chest.

Tatsuya strolled toward her, the grin on his face too easy, too natural.

Like he belonged there.

Like this wasn’t an intrusion at all.

"Kouko."

He said her name like it was his to say, his voice carrying through the hallway with quiet certainty.

"You look nice today."

Her fingers tightened around the jacket—instinctively, protectively.

"Tatsuya," she responded, forcing a polite smile. "Good morning."

He tilted his head slightly, his smirk lazy, amused.

"Did you think about what I said?"

Her pulse quickened.

Not out of excitement.

Out of something closer to discomfort.

"I… haven’t," she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended.

Tatsuya chuckled—low, knowing.

"Time, huh?"

He let the words linger, watching her closely.

"Alright. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere."

A promise.

Or maybe a warning.

Kouko’s grip on the jacket remained tight—so tight she could feel her nails pressing into the fabric.

Then—

A flicker of movement.

Her breath stalled.

Ili.

He was walking away—back turned, posture even.

But for the briefest second, she had felt it.

The weight of his gaze lingering.

He wasn’t just leaving.

He was distancing himself.

And something inside her clenched painfully.

Ili forced his steps to remain steady.

Measured. Even. Unshaken.

Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

But his body betrayed him.

Tatsuya’s voice—the way he said Kouko’s name—curled under his skin like a slow, deliberate hook. The way she replied, hesitant but soft, as if caught in something she didn’t know how to escape.

It twisted inside him, sharp and jagged.

His hands clenched at his sides, fingers curling into fists before he forced them to relax.

Why does this bother me so much?

His jaw tightened.

He didn’t want to turn around.

But despite himself—he looked.

And what he saw made something in his chest coil unbearably tight.

Kouko.

Her shoulders stiff, her smile wrong—too tight, too practiced.

Her grip on the jacket—white-knuckled.

She was uncomfortable.

He could see it in the way she held herself, in the way her fingers clung to the fabric of his jacket like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

And Tatsuya—

Tatsuya wasn’t just there.

He was watching.

Their eyes met.

For the first time.

Ili’s pulse spiked.

It wasn’t just a glance.

It was deliberate. Calculated.

Like he’d known Ili was looking.

Like he wanted Ili to see.

A slow smirk pulled at the edge of Tatsuya’s lips.

Not mocking. Not taunting.

Something worse.

A message.

A pressure built in Ili’s chest, a tension that wasn’t just unease.

It was familiar.

Like an old wound being pressed on.

Like a forgotten whisper.

Like something that should have never been forgotten at all.

The feeling sank deep, cold and relentless.

Ili tore his gaze away, forcing himself forward.

Let it go. Walk away.

But the unease didn’t leave him.

If anything—it clung to him.

A quiet, gnawing wrongness.

And in its silence—

It almost felt like a warning.

Kouko had always been able to find Ili.

Even when he wasn’t looking for her, even when she hadn’t been searching—he was just there. A presence so familiar, so constant, that she had never imagined a day where he wouldn’t be within reach.

But now—he wasn’t.

She glanced around the campus, weaving through the usual clusters of students. Her steps quickened without her realizing.

The library. The courtyard. The cafeteria.

Nowhere.

Each time she caught a glimpse of his dark hair in the crowd, her breath hitched—only for it to be someone else.

She had barely spoken to him since the weekend. Since the night he draped his jacket over her shoulders.

And when he had passed her in the hallway earlier, his voice had been polite, hollow.

Not Ili.

Not the Ili she knew.

A tightness pressed against her chest.

She wasn’t sure when it had happened—when she had gone from noticing him to missing him.

But she felt it now.

And it unsettled her.

Finally, she caught sight of Daiki and Haru lounging outside their lecture hall.

“Hey,” she called, barely aware of the urgency in her tone. “Where’s Ili?”

Daiki raised an eyebrow, looking vaguely amused. “You’re looking for him?”

Her fingers curled slightly. “I just need to talk to him.”

Haru exchanged a look with Daiki before shrugging. “Haven’t seen him much today. Guess he’s been keeping to himself.”

Kouko frowned. That wasn’t like Ili. At least—not before.

A few students passed by, chatting and laughing, but Kouko barely heard them. The weight of the jacket folded in her arms felt heavier than before.

He was avoiding her.

That realization sank into her, sharp and unwelcome.

She should leave it alone.

She should pretend she hadn’t noticed.

But her feet were already carrying her forward.

The day dragged on, with lectures and discussions blurring together into something distant and unimportant.

Kouko barely registered the professor’s words. Her mind was occupied with one thing.

Finding Ili.

Or at the very least—making him stop running.

By the time the final lecture ended, she found herself lingering in the hallway, heart racing slightly as she clutched the jacket tighter.

The noise of students spilling out of classrooms surrounded her, but she barely noticed.

Just thank him, she told herself. It’s not that complicated.

Inside the classroom, Ili was gathering his things when Daiki nudged him, a sly grin on his face.

“Hey, you’ve got someone waiting for you outside.”

His tone was teasing.

Haru leaned over, smirking. “Yeah, and she looks pretty serious about it.”

Ili frowned, glancing toward the doorway. “Who?”

Daiki and Haru exchanged a knowing look.

“Kouko.”

Ili’s brow furrowed.

He didn’t respond.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, his steps remained steady.

As he stepped into the hallway, his eyes immediately found her.

She stood near the wall, posture stiff, expression a mix of determination and nervousness.

Her arms were wrapped around his jacket.

Ili hesitated—but only for a second.

Then, he kept walking.

Kouko stepped forward.

“I… I wanted to give this back,” she said softly, holding out the jacket with both hands.

Her voice was almost swallowed by the noise, but he heard it.

Her gaze flickered up to meet his—briefly. Too briefly.

Then, she looked away.

“Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

She hesitated. “It… really helped.”

Ili stared at her, expression unreadable.

“You didn’t have to wait around just for that.”

His voice was quieter than usual.

Kouko shifted her weight slightly. “I wanted to,” she replied quickly.

A flush crept up her cheeks.

“It didn’t feel right just… dropping it off somewhere.”

Ili’s gaze softened, just slightly.

But his tone remained neutral. “It’s nothing. You were cold.”

Kouko’s fingers tightened around the jacket for a moment before she let it go.

Her hands fell to her sides.

“Still,” she murmured, “thank you.”

A silence stretched between them—not long, but long enough.

Then—Ili nodded.

“Alright,” he said, stepping back. “See you around.”

Kouko’s grip on her bag tightened as he took the jacket and turned to leave.

She watched the distance between them grow again.

Her stomach twisted.

But then—he slowed.

Just before turning the corner.

Kouko felt it before she saw it—the hesitation.

Ili glanced over his shoulder.

Their eyes met.

For a fleeting moment—his unreadable expression softened.

Just enough.

Enough for her to wonder—was he hesitating?

Was he about to say something?

But—he didn’t.

Instead, he gave a small nod.

Almost imperceptible.

Then, he disappeared around the corner.

Kouko exhaled slowly, her breath shaky.

She looked down at her hands.

The scent of his jacket still clung to her fingers.

Her chest tightened.

Why does it feel like he’s slipping further away again?

----------

Kouko didn’t move.

Not even after Ili disappeared around the corner.

Not even after the last traces of his presence had faded into the steady hum of passing students.

She just stood there, her fingers trembling slightly—the ones that had just let go of his jacket.

Her grip on her bag tightened.

Her heartbeat was too loud, too uneven.

What had she been expecting?

Some grand moment where things suddenly fell back into place?

For him to smile like he used to? For his voice to carry something warmer?

For him to stay?

She swallowed hard, her breath unsteady.

He had looked back.

For a second, he had hesitated.

And for that fleeting moment, she had thought—hoped—that he would say something.

But all he gave her was a nod.

A meaningless, detached nod.

Like everything that had built up between them these past few days—

‎ The jacket. The glances. The unspoken weight—

‎ Meant nothing.

The frustration that had been simmering beneath the surface for days finally boiled over.

Her pulse pounded.

Fine. If he wasn’t going to say anything, then she would.

Enough of this.

She spun on her heel and marched forward, faster than she meant to.

People blurred past her, irrelevant.

She didn’t even care if she looked desperate. If she looked like she was chasing after him.

Because she was.

And she didn’t care anymore.

If she didn’t stop him now, he would just keep walking away.

And she refused to let that happen.

Kouko's heart pounded as she hurried through the hallway, her frustration propelling her forward.

She didn’t care if people stared.

She didn’t care if it looked like she was chasing him.

Because she was.

And she refused to let him walk away again.

She turned the corner sharply, breathless, pulse wild.

But—

She stopped.

A girl stood in front of Ili.

One of the girls from the literature club.

Her presence wasn’t unusual—she had seen Ili talk to plenty of people before.

But this?

This was different.

Because the girl was standing too close—but not timidly.

Because her voice wasn’t soft—it was clear, sure of itself.

Because her posture wasn’t hesitant—it was poised, deliberate.

And because Ili wasn’t walking away.

Kouko stood frozen, breath caught in her throat.

She couldn’t hear what the girl was saying.

But she didn’t need to.

Because the way she looked at him wasn’t uncertain.

It was intentional. Unwavering.

Because her eyes held no hesitation—only expectation.

And because Ili wasn’t just listening.

He was responding.

His posture—subtle but undeniable—had shifted.

Not in discomfort.

Not in avoidance.

But in acknowledgment.

And Kouko hated how much that single detail twisted inside her.

It was enough.

The weight of it felt suddenly unbearable.

She had run after him.

But for the first time, she wondered—

Had he been running toward something else?

Kouko turned around before Ili could see her.

Before she had to see what happened next.

Before she had to know if he smiled at her the way he used to smile at Kouko.

Before she had to know if he hesitated for her, too