Umire’s cold voice from earlier echoed in her mind.

"Do you like me the most?"

A shiver crept down her spine. The way she had said it—like the wrong answer would break everything. Like if Lena didn’t play along, this strange little “best friend” act would shatter in an instant.

She hated how fragile she was about all this. How stupidly attached she’d gotten in just two days. Like a parasite, she thought bitterly.

The softer the warmth, the quicker the past seemed to find her.

“You seriously thought we were friends? I was just being nice to you, gosh…”

The memory slammed into her out of nowhere, like a punch to the gut. The dreamlike warmth from before vanished instantly, her stomach twisting. Her chest began to ache, breath catching in her throat. Her hand froze in Umire’s hair. Then she jolted upright, heart thudding, fully awake now.

But… Umire said they were friends, Lena tried to tell herself. That wouldn’t happen again. I’m not misunderstanding this time… right?

She didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. Only the swell of old panic. Her thoughts tangled together, choking her.

Pathetic. You’re so damn sensitive.

“What are you doing!?”

The voice crashed down from above, sharp and angry, and a hand yanked hers away from Umire’s head.

Lena looked up, startled, meeting the girl she distantly remembered as Yuna’s furious gaze. There was no mistaking it—anger, maybe even disgust. Her grip on Lena’s wrist was tight, bruising.

“I… I… uh—” Lena stammered, her mouth fumbling for words. The look in Yuna’s eyes—she’d seen it before. That was normal. That’s how people looked at her.

“Huh… is it time for class already?” Umire mumbled groggily, lifting her head from her arm. Her hair was slightly tousled from Lena’s touch but still fell around her in that unnaturally graceful way, moving as if it belonged to someone in a dream.

Her eyes, bleary but soft, landed on Lena first. A slow, easy smile curled on her face as she leaned into her hand, propped up by her elbow. She looked more awake now but still comfortably distant from reality.

Lena stared, and it hit her again: This wasn’t normal. That softness—towards her—didn’t make sense. The disgust on Yuna’s face felt more real, more familiar. That was what people gave her. Umire… was the strange one.

Even with the sunlight spilling through the window, no light caught in Umire’s eyes. They stayed as dark and deep as ever—like voids reflecting Lena back at herself.

“Umire, this girl—” Yuna started, voice shaking. “She was touching you in your sleep!”

Umire’s head turned slowly. Her expression didn’t change at first—still tired, still unreadable. But as she looked at the scene, her smile faded slightly. A long, tired sigh escaped her lips.

“…Yuna. I asked her to, okay?”

Her voice was soft but tinged with quiet irritation. She raised her head, movements sluggish, eyes cold. Unfamiliar. That coldness—Lena had never heard it from her before.

Lena couldn’t stop the thought from surfacing.  It should’ve been Yuna sitting here.
Someone like Yuna should’ve been the one getting the warm smiles and the soft voice.
Not her.

Someone like her didn’t deserve something so delicate and pure aimed at her.

She was the one who should be ignored—looked at with cold eyes and quiet disgust.

Yuna visibly recoiled, her grip tightening on Lena’s hand. Her face contorted—shock, betrayal, disbelief.

“B-but… Umire, you—”

“Let go of her hand, Yuna. Okay?” Umire’s voice was soft, but her eyes stayed fixed and unblinking, not leaving Yuna’s.

Yuna’s lips parted like she wanted to argue, but nothing came out. She just stared, obvious hurt flashing across her face like a stormcloud.  She obediently loosened her grip on Lena’s wrist and stepped back like she’d been burned.

But before anything else could be said, another voice called out cheerfully from across the room.

“Oh, Umire! Hey!”

Just like that, Umire’s attention snapped away from Yuna. The tension broke, and her expression shifted as easily as flipping a switch.

Umire turned toward the voice, a new smile slipping easily into place—warm, untouched by everything that had just passed. 

“Hey, what’s up, Liz?” Umire replied, her voice light and cheerful.

Yuna stood frozen, expression unreadable now as she stared down at Umire, who was turned from her. 

Lena sat still, watching that smile bloom—like the previous moment hadn’t even happened. But then the memory crept in. Those unfamiliar, cold hands clinging to hers—she’d been content to ignore it, to pretend it hadn’t happened. But now it came banging against the edges of her mind, refusing to be forgotten.

Liz, a girl with short hair and a friendly face, approached the desk, oblivious at first to the crackling tension still lingering in the air. “Oh, nothing much... I was just returning this,” she said, placing a pencil on Umire’s desk. Her eyes flicked around, only now catching the atmosphere. “Wait… why’s everyone gathered here?”

Before anyone could answer, the classroom door opened with a loud click.

“Alright, everyone to your seats!” Mr. Yon called out, strolling in with the casual authority of someone used to being obeyed.

The class shifted instantly, the fragile moment shattering. Chairs scraped. Murmurs died down. Yuna turned her gaze one last time toward Lena, her eyes narrowed into something cold and cutting. It landed like a slap. Lena flinched, even as Yuna turned and walked away wordlessly.

“Hey—this is my seat.”

A boy stood beside her, pointing at the desk Lena sat at with a blank expression.

Lena blinked, disoriented. “Oh. Right. Sorry—”

“I guess you gotta go now~” Umire said in a sing-song voice, plucking the earbud from Lena’s ear and pressing it gently into her palm.

Lena stood up quickly, heart racing again, and mumbled another apology to the boy before practically fleeing to her seat. Umire gave her a playful little wave—careless, casual. Lena didn’t wave back.

As the class settled, Mr. Yon began collecting homework. He paused at Lena’s desk, his frown forming the moment his eyes grazed her paper that was full of doodles and nonsensical answers. She already knew and distantly predicted the talk he’d have with her.

But her thoughts weren’t on the long lecture and questions she would soon surely face.

Yuna’s glare still lingered in her mind—icy, familiar. The kind of look she'd been familiar with. The kind of look that made sense.

That look was reality.

And Umire’s? That soft voice… the way her hand had held hers, the easy warmth in her smile? That had been something else entirely. Something fragile and dreamlike. Something that couldn’t last.

Lena sat frozen, gripping the earbud in her hand like it might keep the moment alive a little longer. But already, she could feel it slipping. Like she’d woken up from something too good to be true. And she didn’t know how to fall back asleep.