The library smelled like old paper and rain.
Mikoto stood just inside the entrance, clutching his backpack tighter than necessary, his heart thudding somewhere near his throat.
It was quieter here than the rest of the school — the kind of quiet that felt almost sacred, broken only by the occasional shuffle of footsteps or the soft thunk of a book being reshelved.
He scanned the room.
There — near the windows — Riko and Nanami were already seated at one of the long wooden tables, textbooks spread out like a battlefield between them.
Nanami waved him over enthusiastically, earning a sharp glare from the librarian.
Mikoto shuffled across the polished floor, feeling every step like a drumbeat.
"Hey, Mikoto!" Nanami whispered loudly, earning another glare. "Over here!"
Riko looked up from her notebook, her black eyes meeting his for a split second — just long enough for Mikoto's brain to short-circuit — before she smiled softly and returned to scribbling something down.
God, that smile.
Mikoto pulled out a chair and sat down, trying to look casual even as his palms sweated against the straps of his bag.
"So!" Nanami said, sliding her math textbook toward him. "Be our hero."
Mikoto chuckled under his breath. "You make it sound like a life-or-death situation."
"It is," Nanami said solemnly, poking her pencil at a page filled with frantic scrawls and doodles. "If we don't pass, we die."
Riko laughed quietly, the sound like a soft ripple of water.
Mikoto turned to her, and for once, he found his voice.
"Which parts are you stuck on?" he asked, keeping it as natural as he could.
Riko tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks a little pink from the lingering cold.
"Mostly the integration problems," she admitted, sliding her notebook toward him. "I just… don't get it."
He leaned closer, pointing at the messy equations with the tip of his pencil.
"Okay, see this part? You're trying to find the area under the curve, not just solve for x."
Riko blinked at him.
"Area…?"
Mikoto smiled, more at her puzzled expression than anything else.
"Yeah. Think of it like… measuring the space under a weirdly shaped umbrella," he said, sketching a terrible drawing of an umbrella in the margin.
Riko stared at it.
Then — unexpectedly — she burst into laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
Even Nanami started giggling, peeking over at the sketch.
"Wow, that's the ugliest umbrella I've ever seen," Nanami whispered.
Mikoto grinned sheepishly. "Art's not my strong suit."
"But it makes sense now," Riko said, still smiling as she bent over her notes.
Mikoto watched her quietly, his heart swelling with something warm and dangerous.
If he could make her smile like this every day…
Maybe he wouldn't mind making a fool of himself a little more often.
The teasing didn't stop there, though. Nanami, noticing Mikoto's increasing fluster, leaned over and whispered, "Maybe if you kept drawing, Riko would think you're an artist."
Mikoto glanced at her in panic, but Riko caught his gaze and smirked slightly, her lips curling. "Maybe I'll hang that umbrella on my wall," she teased, clearly enjoying the joke.
Mikoto, embarrassed, tried to focus on the equations again, but his mind kept drifting back to the light teasing. Nanami's and Riko's playful banter made it impossible to concentrate.
They spent the next hour working through problems, the rain tapping gently against the windows, the world outside turning a soft, blurry gray.
The library had an almost ethereal quality after the rain. The low light filtering through the foggy windows gave everything a muted glow. A faint mist clung to the edges of the glass, and droplets trickled down, leaving streaks that shimmered in the fading daylight. The air inside was cool but heavy, a mix of old pages and wet earth, the kind of scent that settled deep into your chest.
In the far corners, rows of bookshelves loomed, their spines worn from years of use. There was a stillness to the room, an unspoken reverence that seemed to stretch across every inch of the space. The only sound was the quiet whisper of pages turning, the occasional shuffle of someone moving to a different shelf.
Mikoto was aware of every detail—the soft murmur of Nanami's voice as she laughed, Riko's quiet hum of concentration, the way the light caught in her dark hair. He tried to focus on the math, to distract himself from the overwhelming feeling in his chest. But it was impossible to ignore the pull he felt, that quiet ache that seemed to settle into the hollow of his ribs whenever Riko was close.
And then there was the fact that Riko was wearing a skirt today — a short one, just enough for Mikoto to catch glimpses of her legs whenever she crossed them. His face turned bright red, and he had to force his eyes back to the textbook, trying desperately not to think about how it made him feel.
Riko noticed his awkwardness and raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Something wrong, Mikoto-kun?" she asked, her tone playful.
He blinked, instantly embarrassed. "N-No! I… I was just thinking about the problem."
Her smile widened, and Nanami snickered beside them, clearly enjoying the moment. "Sure, Mikoto. We believe you."
There were moments — little ones — where their hands brushed reaching for a pencil, or their eyes met over the edge of a textbook, and something electric sparked between them.
Tiny, barely-there moments.
But they were enough to leave Mikoto breathless.
By the time they finished, the library was nearly empty, the sky outside sinking into twilight. The lights in the library flickered faintly as the last few students packed up their things and filtered out into the rain.
Nanami stretched her arms above her head with a groan.
"Ugh, my brain's dead."
"Same," Riko said, laughing lightly, her eyes warm from the time spent with Mikoto.
Mikoto leaned back in his chair, feeling strangely content despite the exhaustion gnawing at his bones. But there was something about the way Riko's smile lingered, something in her soft gaze, that kept his heart from settling.
He let out a breath, adjusting his bag. The weight of the silence in the library pressed down on him, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt almost sacred, as if the very air was holding them in a delicate balance.
Nanami checked her phone and gasped. "Crap, I'm supposed to meet my brother at the station!"
She hurriedly stuffed her books into her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.
"See you guys tomorrow!" she called over her shoulder, disappearing in a flurry of pink hair and rushed footsteps.
And just like that —
It was only the two of them.
Mikoto and Riko.
Alone.
The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but thick with something unspoken.
Riko fiddled with the strap of her bag, glancing sideways at him. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer than usual, and Mikoto felt his chest tighten.
"Thank you, Mikoto-kun," she said quietly, her voice soft but sincere.
He swallowed hard, forcing his voice steady. "Anytime."
They stood up together, gathering their things. Mikoto noticed the slight dampness to her hair, the way it clung to the back of her neck from the rain. The droplets still clung to her jacket like small, sparkling gems. The library's warm glow wrapped around them as they left, the door closing softly behind them with a muted thud.
Outside, the rain had eased into a soft mist, turning the courtyard into a hazy, glowing landscape under the streetlights. The world felt like it had slowed down, the sounds of the city muffled by the wet air, the pavement slick and glistening under the pale light.
Riko glanced at Mikoto, her gaze flicking to the ground and then back up, a soft blush staining her cheeks. There was something different in the way she looked at him tonight, something almost vulnerable.
They walked side by side, their footsteps almost perfectly in sync.
It would be so easy, Mikoto thought.
So easy to reach out — to brush his fingers against hers, to break the fragile distance between them.
But fear rooted him to the ground, tying his hands to his sides.
He couldn't risk it.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
Riko glanced up at him again, her expression soft, but there was something more in her eyes this time. Something like… hope? Maybe it was just his imagination, but Mikoto couldn't shake the feeling that she was waiting for something — for him to do something, say something.
But just then, a car pulled up to the curb with a cheerful beep.
It was Riko's older brother, waving from the driver's seat.
"Oh," she said, her smile faltering just a little. "Guess not."
Mikoto forced a grin, trying to mask the disappointment that curled in his chest. "It's fine. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah," she said softly.
She gave him a tiny wave before dashing off toward the car, her figure disappearing into the mist. The faint glow of the headlights made her silhouette seem almost unreal, like she was fading into a dream.
Mikoto stood there for a long moment after the car had driven away, the world silent around him. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and started walking, the damp air curling around him like a second skin.
The distance between them felt heavier now.
More real.
But even so —
He wasn't going to give up.
Not yet.
Not when he'd finally taken the first step.
Even if it was small.
Even if it hurt.
He would keep walking.
Toward her.
No matter how long it took.
⸻
[End of Chapter 3]