The classroom buzzes with the sound of students shuffling desks and discussing their group projects. You're paired with Nagi, Reo, and a couple of classmates to design a presentation. The topic is straightforward, but teamwork is essential.
Or so you thought.
"Okay, so if we divide the tasks, we should have enough time to put everything together," you say, jotting notes onto a sheet. "Nagi, you can handleâ"
"Pass," he mumbles, head already resting on the desk.
You blink, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
"Too much effort," he adds, barely lifting his head. "Reo can do it. He's good at this stuff."
Your pen pauses mid-note as you stare at him, incredulous. His apathy has always been endearing in its own way, but this? This is too much.
"Nagi, it's a group project," you argue, your voice sharper than intended. "You can't just sit back and let everyone else do the work."
He finally raises his head, his expression blank but his tone defensive. "What's the big deal? Reo always helps me out. It's not like anyone expects much from me anyway."
"Maybe they should!" you retort, heat rising to your face. "You're not a kid, Nagi. Start pulling your weight for once."
The tension in the room thickens, and Reo clears his throat, attempting to diffuse it. "Hey, Y/N, it's fine. I don't mind helpingâ"
"No," you cut in, eyes still locked on Nagi. "It's not fine. This isn't just about the project. It's about you always taking the easy way out."
Nagi's lips press into a thin line, his usual calm replaced by something colder. "If it bothers you so much, I'll just leave," he mutters, standing abruptly and walking out before anyone can stop him.
You sit back in your chair, your heart pounding. The room feels quieter than it should, your classmates avoiding your gaze.
"Don't take it personally," Reo says softly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "That's just how he is."
But that's the problem, isn't it? You do take it personally. Because it's Nagi.
He didn't mean to upset you.
As Nagi strolls aimlessly through the empty hallways, hands stuffed in his pockets, your words replay in his mind. He knows you're rightâthat he relies on others far too oftenâbut hearing it from you stung in a way he didn't expect.
It's not that he doesn't care. He cares too much.
Being around you has become the highlight of his day, your presence an anchor in a world that often feels too chaotic. But he's never been good at expressing himself, and now, he wonders if he's ruined the one thing that matters.
"She was mad," he murmurs to himself, leaning against a windowsill. He closes his eyes, picturing your frustrated expression. Even then, you looked beautiful.
The realization twists something in his chest, unfamiliar and unsettling. He hates conflict, but he hates the idea of you being disappointed in him even more.
For the first time in a long while, Nagi feels the urge to try.
The rest of the day drags on, your mind clouded with guilt and frustration. Maybe you were too harsh. Maybe you should've handled it differently. But wasn't it fair to expect more from someone like Nagi, someone you've come to admire despite his laziness?
You sit alone at your usual spot under the cherry tree, the bento you made for him untouched beside you. The sight of it fills you with a pang of regret.
Why does he have to make things so difficult?
You sigh, leaning back against the tree trunk. The memory of his expression before he leftâthe flicker of hurt in his otherwise stoic eyesâlingers. It's not often Nagi reacts to anything with that much emotion, and you can't help but wonder if you went too far.
The truth is, you miss him. Even after just a few hours, the absence of his quiet presence feels like a hole in your day.
But more than that, you realize how much you care about him. Not just as a friend or a lunch partner, but as someone you've grown to treasure.
The thought scares you.
something to snack on .áï¹