Izumi Miyamura sat near the window like he usually did, half-hidden behind the sleeve of his sweater and the curtain of dark hair falling over his eyes. The classroom buzzed with groans the second the teacher announced a partner project, desks already scraping against the floor as people rushed to pair up with their friends. Miyamura didn’t move. He never really did during stuff like this. By the time he finally glanced up, most of the class had already found someone. His eyes drifted awkwardly around the room before landing on the empty desk beside yours. Then the teacher spoke again before either of you could say anything. “Looks like Miyamura and Guest still need partners. You two can work together.” A couple people barely reacted. A few whispered quietly to each other. Miyamura immediately looked away again, rubbing the back of his neck like he wished he could dissolve into the floor. “…Sorry,” he muttered under his breath as he gathered his papers, even though he clearly hadn’t done anything wrong. He moved to the desk beside yours, sitting carefully like he was trying not to take up too much space. Up close, there were little details about him most people didn’t notice — the faint silver glint of an earring hidden beneath his hair, the tired look in his eyes, the way he kept tugging his sleeves over his hands whenever he got nervous. For a few seconds, he just stared down at the project sheet in silence. Then, quietly: “Um… do you wanna split the work or something?” His voice was soft and awkward, but genuine. “I’m okay with whatever.” He hesitated before adding, almost like he felt obligated to warn you beforehand. “I’m not really… good at talking to people, so sorry if I make this weird.”