Lena clenched her fists tight, her nails digging into her palms. She tried to beat back the oncoming panic, but the flood was already rising. Ugly memories and half-coherent thoughts tangled together in her mind. Her mom was going to check her pills. She didn’t have an excuse yet for the one she used yesterday. What if her mom figured it out? What would she say?

“I don’t want you to miss all of lunch here.” Mr. Yon stood and handed her back her paper. “I’ll talk to Umire about the study sessions. Don’t worry, okay? Go on and enjoy your break.”

He smiled again and turned away, completely missing the weight that had settled on her shoulders.

Lena stared at his back, a lump forming in her throat. Why don’t they ever listen? she thought bitterly, her eyes stinging.

She turned and left stiffly, her steps slow, like she was walking underwater. The halls had mostly emptied now. As she climbed the stairs, her thoughts only grew darker—louder. She didn’t even bother putting her headphones back in her mind racing.

Umire was going to get tired of her. Just like everyone else. She’d leave too.

And Lena would be alone again.

Just like she was supposed to be.

She imagined Umire looking at her with that same forced smile, imagined the annoyance slowly creeping into her eyes. It would happen. Of course, it would. Umire would get tired of pretending. She’d drift away like everyone else, and Lena would be alone again. Just like she always was. Just like she deserved.

Before she knew it, she was standing outside the classroom door, staring at it in a daze. Her hand hovered near the handle, unmoving. Her breath caught.

Was Umire inside?

Was she waiting?

Or had she already left—with Yuna—laughing, forgetting Lena ever existed?

The weight of the treats in her bag suddenly felt suffocating. She had spent so long making them last night, her hands trembling the entire time, clinging to the stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, she’d have someone to share them with.

Idiot.

Of course, Umire wasn’t here because she wanted to be. Mr. Yon had probably forced her into it. Just another lie wrapped in fake smiles and polite words.

Lena’s chest tightened as another memory rose, unbidden—Umire’s cold fingers curling around hers, her expression unreadable, her jet-black eyes strangely hollow as she said, “I like you.”

What did that even mean?

Was any of it real?

Somehow, Umire always felt like a dream—too perfect, too composed, too hollow. Like a doll playing a role someone else had written for her. One moment warm, the next distant. Loving. Empty. Lena couldn’t tell which was real. Maybe none of it.

Her hand reached for the door.

She made a decision.

If Umire wasn’t there, she’d stop. She’d force herself to wake up from this illusion and let the dream die. No more hope. No more delusions.

But if she was… if Umire was still waiting…

Maybe she could believe. Just a little. Maybe she could hold on to the idea that something about it was real. Even if it was a lie. Even if it broke her later. Something inside her—small and trembling—wanted to believe.

With her heart pounding, Lena slid the door open. This time, she didn’t slip in quietly like she usually did. She threw it wide.

The door slammed against the wall with a sharp echo that cracked through the silence of the room. The sound made her flinch, but she didn’t stop. She stepped inside.

Light from the uncovered windows spilled across the floor in warm stripes, the sun glowing too brightly for how cold she felt inside. She kept her gaze low, afraid to look. Her chest felt ready to burst. She didn’t want to see.

She didn’t want to wake up.

Still, she forced her eyes open, lifting her head slowly, gaze drawn like a magnet to the back corner of the classroom.

Please be there.

Please let this be real.

Her breath caught as she saw black hair—Umire’s unmistakable form, slouched in sleep exactly where she’d left her.

Umire. 

But then—

A hand.

Delicate fingers rested gently atop Umire’s head. Stroking. Possessive.

Yuna.

"What the…?" Yuna’s voice muttered, startled.

She was sitting in the seat Lena had sat in just before. Her startled expression locked with Lena’s from across the room, her hand still in Umire’s hair as if she had every right to be there.

Lena didn’t move at first.

Relief flooded her. Then, confusion. And then, faster than she could stop it, something bitter began to rise. Something sharp and ugly, coiling tight in her gut.

Before she realized what she was doing, her legs carried her forward. No hesitation. No fear. Just movement. Her usual anxiousness burned away under something far hotter.

Yuna blinked. “What’s wrong with you? Why’d you slam the door like that?”

Lena didn’t answer.

She just walked closer, eyes fixed on Yuna’s hand, still resting on Umire’s soft curls.

Her teeth ground together.

She wanted—needed—to rip that hand away.

To scream.

To make it stop.

To ruin something.

Something in her was breaking.

And all she could do was watch it happen.

“YOU—” Lena’s voice sliced through the air like glass, colder than even she expected. It sounded foreign in her ears, sharp and trembling with something closer to desperation than rage.

But the moment shattered before it could fully form.

Umire stirred, shifting slightly with a small groan as her head rose from the desk. Strands of her hair lifted with her, caught still between Yuna’s fingers.

“Oh… Yuna…?” she mumbled groggily, eyes half-lidded as they flickered toward her.

Her gaze drifted down to the place where Yuna’s hand had lingered in her hair. The second their eyes met, Yuna’s expression twisted. As if yanked by a string, she dropped the strands instantly, pulling her hand away as though burned.

“I-I wasn’t—I didn’t mean—” Yuna stumbled over her words, her voice a clumsy scramble for innocence.

Umire sighed, slow and quiet. Then, she turned—her head tilting lazily until her eyes landed on Lena.

Something lit up in her face.

“Lena!” she said, suddenly awake, her voice warm and bright in a way that made Lena’s heart stutter. “Gosh, I was waiting for you—I’m starving.”

She smiled. Just for her.

The warmth in Umire’s voice curled around her like smoke—sweet, familiar, but hard to breathe in. 

That look in Umire’s eyes, that promise of forever—was it just another story, spun like sugar, too pretty to last?

And for one awful second, Lena felt like she was standing in front of a loaded gun... and calling it love.

Umire’s soft smile felt like a gift… and a weapon threatening to destroy Lena whole.