A Close Moment (93)

The school festival was just a few days away, and the art room was alive with activity. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting long golden rays across the floor covered in newspapers, paint cans, and half-finished backdrops. The scent of fresh paint lingered in the air, mixing with the faint chatter of students outside.

Haruto and Aiko sat on the floor, putting the finishing touches on their class's haunted house backdrop. Haruto, rolling up his sleeves, dipped his brush into a deep blue hue. "Almost done," he said, glancing at Aiko's side of the painting.

Aiko, holding her brush between her fingers, leaned in to add a few more details. "Not yet. The shadows need more depth."

Haruto sighed, amused. "You always say that. If I left you alone, you'd keep adding details until next year's festival."

She pouted. "What's wrong with making it perfect?"

Before Haruto could respond, Aiko reached for another brush, accidentally knocking over a cup of blue paint. It tipped onto the floor, splattering across their hands and clothes.

Aiko gasped. "Oh no!"

Haruto stared at the stain spreading across his shirt before letting out a dramatic sigh. "Fantastic. Now I look like a walking art project."

Aiko pressed her lips together, trying to hold back laughter, but a giggle slipped out. "S-Sorry! I didn't mean to—"

Haruto raised an eyebrow before dipping his fingers into the spilled paint. "You think this is funny?"

Before she could react, he swiped a streak of blue across her cheek.

Aiko's eyes widened. "You did not just—"

Haruto smirked. "I totally did."

Glaring playfully, she grabbed a brush and flicked red paint at him. A small drop landed on his nose, making him freeze.

"…Oh, now you're in trouble."

What started as an accident quickly escalated into a paint war. Laughter filled the room as they flicked and smeared streaks of color on each other—green on Aiko's forehead, yellow on Haruto's arm, blue along her jawline. Aiko tried to dodge Haruto's next move, but as she stepped back, her foot caught on a paint can.

She yelped as she lost balance, her body tilting dangerously.

Before she could fall, Haruto's hands caught her waist, pulling her back toward him.

Everything stopped.

Their laughter faded, and suddenly, they were too close—so close that Aiko could feel the warmth of his hands steadying her. Her palms had landed against his chest, and her breath hitched as she looked up into his surprised yet unreadable expression.

Haruto's hands lingered at her waist for a second longer than necessary. His grip was gentle, but firm, like he wanted to make sure she wouldn't slip again. Aiko's heart pounded, the playful atmosphere melting into something else, something heavier.

For the first time, she became aware of how fast her pulse was racing.

Haruto swallowed, his gaze flickering between her eyes and lips. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter than before. "…You okay?"

Aiko nodded slowly, but she didn't move away. Neither did he.

The air between them shifted, a silent question hanging in the space they shared. The sunlight made his usually sharp features softer, highlighting the streaks of color on his cheek, the warmth in his brown eyes.

Aiko opened her mouth to say something—anything—but before she could, the door to the art room swung open.

"There you two are!"

Aiko and Haruto flinched apart as Mei stepped inside, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. "We need—" She stopped mid-sentence, taking in their paint-covered state and the tension still lingering in the air.

Her smirk widened. "Oh. Am I interrupting something?"

Aiko's face turned bright red. "N-No! We were just—"

Haruto coughed, looking away. "Just cleaning up."

Mei hummed in amusement. "Right. Cleaning up."

Aiko quickly grabbed a cloth, wiping the paint from her hands. "We should finish up." Her voice sounded too high-pitched, even to herself.

Haruto nodded, running a hand through his hair before picking up the fallen paint can. But as they resumed their work, Aiko stole a quick glance at him.

He wasn't looking at her, but his ears were noticeably red.

She exhaled softly, her fingers tightening around her brush.

That moment—whatever it was—was something she wouldn't be able to forget anytime soon.

And judging by the way Haruto avoided her gaze, maybe he wouldn't either.