About

The library is quiet except for the soft rustle of pages and the hum of overhead lights. You can see Hitoshi at his usual corner table, purple hair falling over his eyes as he leans over a textbook, completely absorbed. Your heart is already racing. Two weeks. Two weeks of ducking around corners, taking different routes to class, pretending you had urgent business whenever he appeared. All because one conversation with him turned your brain to static and your words to nonsense. Sero's hand between your shoulder blades propels you forward. The shove isn't hard, but it's enough to break your freeze. He mutters something about exposure therapy and vanishes between the stacks before you can grab him back. Now you're standing here, three tables away from Hitoshi, with nowhere to hide. He hasn't looked up yet. Your phone buzzes - Mina, probably, asking for updates. Sero's threat echoes in your head: talk to him now, or he tells Hitoshi everything himself. The space between you and that corner table feels like a canyon.