The next morning started the same way it always did — too bright, too loud, too human.
Max sat at his desk, watching the second hand drag itself around the clock face. The day had barely begun, and already the walls felt tighter than yesterday.
David leaned back in his chair, spinning a pencil between his fingers. "You've been quiet," he said, like it was some kind of discovery.
"I'm always quiet."
"Yeah, but lately you're mysteriously quiet." He wiggled his eyebrows. "Rumor is,
you've been working with her."
"Her?"
David grinned. "Don't play dumb, man. The Reina Takamine. People are saying you two looked pretty close in the committee room yesterday."
Max didn't answer. He just turned another page in his notebook, empty save for a few messy lines that didn't mean anything.
David whistled. "Damn. Even your silence sounds guilty."
Before Max could reply, the door slid open and the teacher walked in, killing the noise. The chatter faded to a hush, but the words hung there in the air — you and her.
By the time lunch came around, the cafeteria was its usual chaos of voices and motion.
Trays clattered, chairs scraped, rumors hummed beneath it all like static.
Max found a corner table near the window, the same spot he always took. A shadow fell over his tray.
Sera dropped her bag onto the seat across from him. "You've been hard to find."
"I've been here," he said.
"Not really." She sat, unwrapping her sandwich. "You've been hanging around the event committee. With her."
He didn't respond, just kept eating.
Sera leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. "You know, I actually liked it better when you were the quiet mysterious guy. Now you're the quiet mysterious guy with a PR manager."
Max gave her a look. "You sound jealous."
She smirked. "I'm not. Just… observant."
He studied her face for a moment. There was a flicker behind the sarcasm — something less sharp, more uncertain.
"She's not what people think," he said finally.
Sera's tone softened. "No one ever is."
For a few seconds, they just sat there, the noise of the cafeteria dimming around them. Then Sera sighed, leaning back. "Just be careful, Holloway. People like her don't show up in your life for free."
"People like me don't get things for free anyway."
Sera smiled faintly. "See? That's the version of you I missed."
The bell cut her off. She grabbed her bag and stood, half-turned toward him.
"Don't let her rewrite your story," she said quietly. "You've already got too many versions of yourself."
Then she was gone — leaving behind an echo of perfume and words he couldn't shake.
After classes, he headed for the committee room again. The hallways were half-empty, washed in the dull orange of the afternoon.
Reina was already there when he arrived, perched on a desk with her cardigan slipping off one shoulder. She looked up from her phone and smiled.
"Right on time. You're learning."
"You told me to be here by four."
"And you listened."
He dropped his bag by the door. "What's the job today?"
"Helping me not fall off this ladder while I hang banners," she said, nodding at the stack of decorations in the corner.
Max raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a trap."
"Only if you're bad at catching."
She climbed the ladder, stretching up to pin a paper lantern to the beam. Max steadied the base without thinking. The hem of her skirt swayed near his shoulder; sunlight cut across her hair.
She glanced down at him, smiling through the strands. "You're quieter than usual. Did I offend you yesterday?"
"You talk too much for that to matter."
"Ouch." She pinned the last lantern, then stepped down, close enough that her perfume brushed against him again. "You don't like me much, do you?"
"I don't know you."
"Then maybe you should fix that."
Before he could answer, the door opened.
"Reina," a voice said from the doorway. Calm. Controlled.
Ryo.
He stepped inside, dressed a little too neatly for after class, sleeves rolled just high enough to look intentional.
"You're still working?" he asked.
Reina smiled lightly. "Trying to finish before tomorrow. Holloway's been helping."
Ryo looked at Max for a moment longer than necessary, his expression unreadable. "I can see that."
He moved closer, setting a bag on the table. "I brought the new event schedules. Council approved them this morning."
Reina reached for the bag, but Ryo placed a hand over hers, just briefly. The kind of touch that said we're something, even if no one spoke it aloud.
Max looked away.
Ryo followed his gaze. "You've been keeping busy, Holloway."
"I guess I am," Max said.
"That's good. Reina can be… persuasive."
"She doesn't have to," Max said quietly. "If she asks, I'll help her."
Something sharp flickered across Ryo's eyes — there and gone. He smiled again, perfectly polite. "Glad to hear it."
Reina caught the tension instantly. "Okay, enough posturing. Ryo, you're scaring my helper."
Ryo chuckled. "Didn't mean to." But when he turned to leave, his hand landed on Max's shoulder. Firm. "See you around."
Max didn't move. "Sure."
The door closed. The silence stretched.
Reina blew out a quiet sigh. "He's always like that. Thinks he's protecting me."
"Is he?"
She smiled thinly. "Maybe. Or maybe he's protecting himself. I don't really know."
Her tone was almost wistful — like she wasn't sure who she was talking about anymore.
For a long moment, she just looked at Max — really looked — as if measuring something invisible between them. Then she stepped back.
"You can go, Holloway. I'll finish up here."
He hesitated. "You sure?"
"Yeah. You've done enough heavy lifting for one day."
He nodded once, grabbed his bag, and left without another word.
That night, the rain came again.
Max sat by the window, half-hidden behind the curtain, phone dark on his desk.
Sera's words echoed — Don't let her rewrite your story.
Outside, the streets glowed wet and alive. Somewhere, laughter carried from the direction of the dorms.
He closed his eyes, trying to picture silence.
But all he could see was Reina's smirk.
And all he could hear was Ryo's voice — calm, steady, dangerous.
"You've been keeping busy, Holloway."