Chapter Text
The after-school classroom was awash in the bleeding crimson of twilight, amber light slicing through the windows to cut the desks into sharp diagonals. Chalk dust drifted lazily through the stagnant, dry air. Nakamura kept his head low, packing his bag with practiced, defensive caution, doing everything he could to dissolve into the relative safety of the shadows.
"Nakamura, do you... want to walk home together today?"
The quiet voice pierced the stillness like an electric shock, sending a sharp jolt straight down Nakamura's spine.
He turned his head with mechanical stiffness. Standing in the doorway was Aiki Hirose. The dying sun caught the fine, loose strands of Hirose’s hair, illuminating them in a warm, brilliant rim of gold. That genuinely open smile—the effortless brightness that seemed to radiate from him naturally—was so striking it made Nakamura’s chest ache with a physical sting.
"Huh? Me?!"
Nakamura’s voice cracked, a high pitch born of sheer panic. He instinctively white-knuckled the strap of his schoolbag, clinging to it like a lifeline in a sudden, overwhelming deluge.
"Wh-why? Why ask me all of a sudden?"
(—Hirose invited me to walk home together?! Is today some kind of miracle jackpot day?! Why would someone like him invite someone like me? Wait, no! The way I just answered was way too rude! What if Hirose thinks I’m being ungrateful and decides to never talk to me again?! Calm down, Okuto Nakamura, don't make that disgusting freak face!)
Watching Nakamura’s face contort through a shifting array of raw panic and disbelief, Hirose blinked in mild confusion. Then, a trace of hesitant embarrassment softened his features, and he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
"Huh? Did you forget?"
Hirose took a few steps into the classroom, bringing with him the subtle, clean scent of soap and fresh air.
"I remember a few weeks ago, you asked me to walk home with you. Back then, I was totally overwhelmed dealing with all that drama with my ex-girlfriend. I really didn't have the peace of mind or the time, so I turned you down. But looking back, we finally managed to become good friends, yet I feel like I've left you out in the cold for so long. I’ve felt so bad about it... But hey, if you don't want to, it's totally fine—"
"O-Of course I want to!"
Nakamura’s spine snapped straight, his body reacting with the violent rigidity of a triggered spring. His voice boomed through the quiet room, loud enough to shake the dust from the air.
"I mean, please, by all means, allow me the absolute privilege of accompanying you home! It is the single greatest honor of my entire lif—no, I mean, let's go!"
"Haha, you are way too serious!"
Hirose burst into a melodic, unburdened laugh, his eyes crinkling into soft, warm crescents.
"Nakamura, your reactions are always so funny. Honestly, I could watch them forever and never get tired of it."
Never get tired of it. Those words caught in Nakamura’s chest, causing his heart to stall before thudding violently against his ribs.
The two walked shoulder to shoulder down the school slope. Though Nakamura’s stride remained painfully rigid and awkward, Hirose’s effortless, casual warmth—the easy camaraderie he extended so freely—offered Nakamura the intoxicating illusion that he was finally stepping out of the dark and into the sun.
▶ [📷 Click to view animation screenshot ]
"Oh, right, Nakamura."
Hirose turned his head, the slanting amber light catching the dark fringe of his eyelashes.
"Today during biology class, when we were looking at the specimens... that sketch you did of the octopus... it was seriously amazing. You drew the textures of the suckers in such vivid detail. I bet you were the only one in the whole class who drew it like that."
"Eeeek?! You—you saw that?!"
Nakamura recoiled instantly like a startled animal, his shoulders hitching so violently that his bag nearly tumbled from his arm.
"That kind of thing... it was just a random scribble! Please, you must forget you ever saw it!"
"Haha, there you go again. Why do you always try to hide it?"
Watching the deep crimson bleed rapidly up Nakamura’s neck and cheeks, Hirose let out another light chuckle.
"I really do think you draw incredibly well. It feels like whenever octopuses are involved, you suddenly get so wildly passionate."
"……I just……"
Nakamura ducked his head, his voice sinking to a barely audible mumble, as if speaking to the concrete.
"Because it’s an octopus…… they are a miracle of evolutionary history……"
Yet, the paths to unearned happiness are almost always lined with thorns.
As they rounded the slope bordering the park, a familiar, tall silhouette cut through the twilight. It was Otogiri-sensei—the untouchable anchor of Hirose's inner world, the man who held the forbidden monopoly on his secret affection.
(Oh no…… it’s Otogiri-sensei. Talk about terrible luck. My rare, precious opportunity is ruined……)
▶ [📷 Click to view animation screenshot]
Nakamura keenly registered the instant transformation in the boy beside him. Hirose’s easy stride immediately quickened with a buoyant eagerness, his eyes lighting up with a raw, undeniable devotion.
Under normal circumstances, Hirose would have darted forward like an overeager hound, using his characteristic charm to bridge the physical distance, angling for even the briefest, casual brush of contact from the older man.
He was already shifting his weight to take that step when his entire posture locked down.
Walking flush against Otogiri-sensei was a young, striking woman. Wrapped in an elegant coat, her presence was soft and refined, her arm intimately laced through the teacher's elbow.
"Oh, well if it isn't Hirose and Nakamura," Otogiri-sensei called out, pausing his stride to flash the broad, unassuming smile he wore like a uniform. "Are you two walking home together? My, you boys get along so well."
The effortless grace that Hirose carried so naturally faltered, a sudden fracture breaking through his usual poise. His fingers curled tightly into his palms, and when he forced out his words, his voice was painfully hollow:
"Um... Otogiri-sensei. May I ask... who is the lady next to you?"
The woman offered a warm, welcoming smile. She looked at Hirose, her tone carrying the affectionate indulgence of an older sister addressing a younger sibling:
"My, what a lovely surprise. Are you Hirose-kun? My husband talks about you constantly at home. He says there's this adorable, sweet student who's been especially attached to him lately. He even mentioned he hopes our future children turn out to be good kids just like you, Hirose... so he couldn't help but play favorites a bit."
She extended her hand gracefully, her smile untainted by malice as she completed the introduction:
"Ah, I’m so sorry, I got so caught up talking that I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Otogiri-sensei’s wife. You can just call me Miyuki."
It was an absolute, suffocating dead end.
Standing a half-step behind him, Nakamura watched Hirose’s profile. In the span of a single heartbeat, he witnessed the total, violent unraveling of the other boy's expression—the sudden, paralyzing shock bleeding into a helpless panic, before hardening into a deathly pale, hollow desolation.
Nakamura recognized that exact expression in his very bones.
After all, throughout the endless months spent watching from the background—whether tracking him laughing with his ex-girlfriend or witnessing his desperate attachment to the teacher—the raw, aching agony that had hollowed out Nakamura’s own chest was identical to the devastation destroying Hirose right now.
It was the silent crash of an entire worldview splintering into ruin, an idol collapsing into dust right before one's eyes.
The woman’s phrase, good kids just like you, was the final, devastating blow. To Otogiri-sensei, Hirose was merely the concept of a well-behaved child, never an option for a lover.
"...I’m sorry, I—I have an emergency!"
Hirose kept his head ducked low, his voice so thin it barely carried through the air. Before anyone could move, he spun on his heel and fled, sprinting blindly up the opposite side of the slope.
"Oh dear, is it really that urgent? Why is he running so fast?" Otogiri-sensei muttered, scratching his cheek in mild confusion as he tracked the retreating figure.
Frozen on the asphalt, a dark, petty corner of Nakamura’s own insecurity flashed with a momentary spike of relief at the thought of his rival being eliminated. But the ugly thought was instantly drowned beneath a crushing wave of profound empathy.
Watching the way Hirose’s footsteps faltered as he ran, a sharp, physical ache pierced straight through Nakamura's chest. He understood that despair too deeply; it was the raw panic of a creature burned by the light, desperately fleeing into the dark to hide its bleeding wounds.
This time, he refused to stay behind as a mere observer.
Nakamura spun around. Ignoring the teacher's calls completely, he threw the entire weight of his body forward and sprinted up the slope after his breaking sun.