Qingxiao raised his hand and gently pushed the door open.
Shoko had just woken up and looked relaxed, her short hair slightly tousled against her forehead. A hazy sheen of moisture still veiled her eyes, and her cheeks held a faint flush from sleep.
She leaned against the wall with a light jacket draped over her, languid and at ease in the morning.
Shoko said nothing, simply watching him quietly, her gaze sweeping lightly over him, clearly waiting for an explanation. The disappointment of waiting in vain in the infirmary all night lingered like a slight weight in her chest.
They were much closer than ordinary classmates, habitually waiting for each other and looking out for each other in daily life. They understood each other well and had long since moved beyond being polite, distant companions.
After a few seconds of stalemate, Shoko finally tugged at the corner of her lips. Her tone was light but barbed, her teasing carrying the polite distance reserved for someone she barely knew. "Qingxiao, the busy man. You were pretty busy yesterday, huh? I waited for you in the infirmary all night and never even caught a glimpse of you."
Her voice was level, betraying neither happiness nor anger, yet a faint distance lay beneath it. Rather than sulking, she seemed to be deliberately pretending not to care.
A bead of cold sweat slid down Qingxiao's temple, and he felt inexplicably at a loss.
I disappeared yesterday without a word. Anyone would mind. I was careless. I was so focused on surprising her yesterday that I forgot to tell her.
Qingxiao understood perfectly well: Shoko felt hurt because someone close to her had stood her up.
They were comfortable around each other, but neither had acknowledged that subtle affection, always maintaining a distance that