Chapter Seven: Things Unspoken

The following week passed in a quiet rhythm, the kind of calm that felt unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Something in their routine had shifted—meals were shared more often, the silences less sharp, and the edge to their interactions softened. They were still opposites, still unpredictable, but now the friction had started to feel like… chemistry.

On Friday, Takara found himself sketching in the courtyard between classes. He'd chosen a spot beneath one of the older maple trees, its leaves turning red and orange in a slow dance of color. He pressed the tip of his pencil to paper, trying to capture the way sunlight hit the edge of the branches, but his mind kept drifting back to Kayo.

He didn't know when exactly it had started.

Maybe it was the storm.

Maybe it was the kitchen.

Or maybe it was all the moments in between—the notes, the soft glances, the way Kayo's laughter (when it finally escaped him) was rare and quietly beautiful.

"Are you drawing me again?"

Takara jerked his head up. Speak of the devil.

Kayo stood a few steps away, dressed in the school's navy blazer and black slacks, his expression unreadable.

Takara's eyes narrowed. "Who said I was drawing you?"

"You always look guilty when you are."

"I'm never guilty. That's just my artistic focus face."

Kayo rolled his eyes and sat beside him without asking. "What are you working on?"

Takara held up the sketchpad. It was a rough layout of the tree, the dorm buildings in the background, and two faint figures standing side by side beneath the branches.

It took Kayo two seconds to recognize the silhouettes.

"…You're weird," he muttered.

Takara grinned. "Takes one to know one."

*********

Later that night, the dorm common room was alive with low chatter, game controllers clicking, and the soft hum of late-night ramen pots being stirred by overworked first-years. Takara returned from his shower to find Kayo curled in the armchair by the far window, knees drawn up, a worn book open in his lap.

"You always read the same one," Takara said, toweling his hair dry.

Kayo didn't look up. "It's familiar."

"Is it good?"

Kayo hesitated. "It's not about being good. It just… makes sense."

Takara dropped his towel over his neck and padded over barefoot. "What's it about?"

"A boy who leaves home to chase a version of himself he's not sure is real."

Takara blinked. "That's… kind of deep."

"It's also fiction," Kayo replied. "So don't get too sentimental."

Takara lowered himself onto the couch opposite. "Maybe fiction's the only place some of us feel seen."

Kayo looked up at that. Their eyes met.

Something about the moment was electric. Wordless. And just a little terrifying.

**********

That weekend, Takara got a call.

His phone buzzed against the desk as he brushed his teeth, and by the time he came back, the screen still glowed: Dad.

It was the first time he'd called in weeks.

"Hey," Takara said, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Takara. Sorry I didn't call sooner."

Takara sat on the edge of his bed. "It's fine. Busy, I guess."

"Yeah. Business trip to Singapore got extended. I won't be home for break."

Takara's hand tightened around the phone. "Right."

"But I booked you a flight. You'll stay with Aunt Keiko. She's expecting you."

"I—" Takara swallowed. "I kind of wanted to stay on campus, actually."

There was a pause.

"It's not safe to be alone, Takara."

"I wouldn't be. I mean… people are still around. And I have Kayo."

Another pause. Longer.

"Is this the boy you room with?"

"Yeah."

"Hm."

The sound was neutral, but it lingered in Takara's ears.

"I'll think about it," he said, trying not to let disappointment creep into his voice.

After they hung up, he sat there for a long time, phone resting on his knee, room silent except for the hum of Kayo's desk lamp behind him.

"You okay?" Kayo asked softly.

Takara didn't turn around. "Yeah. Just… family stuff."

Kayo didn't press. He just nodded and went back to studying. But a few minutes later, he placed a cup of warm tea beside Takara's hand without saying a word.

**********

Sunday night brought them a surprise.

Ms. Hanabusa knocked once and entered their room without waiting for a reply. "Boys. Quick announcement. You've been selected as finalists in the Roommate Bonding Challenge."

Kayo blinked. "Why?"

Takara looked equally confused. "We didn't poison each other. That's probably why."

Hanabusa smiled. "You two had the highest-rated entry photo. Looked very natural. And you're on the shortlist for the final showcase next weekend."

"Showcase?" Kayo echoed, horrified.

"Oh, yes. Public presentations. Five-minute skits or talents showcasing your compatibility as roommates. Just a bit of fun!"

When she left, Kayo looked at Takara like he'd been personally betrayed.

"You took a photo of us?"

Takara scratched the back of his head. "I said I was going to, remember?"

"You didn't say it would be submitted for judgment."

"You looked happy!"

"I was chewing rice!"

"You were glowing!"

"I WAS CHEWING RICE!"

They stared at each other—then burst out laughing.

It was the kind of laughter that came without warning, that knocked the breath out of you, that left you gasping and aching and oddly relieved.

When it finally faded, Takara wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

"We should probably figure out what we're doing for this showcase," he said.

Kayo groaned. "I already regret bonding with you."

"Too late. We're emotionally entangled now."

"You sound ridiculous."

"And yet you haven't left."

Kayo didn't respond.

He just smirked—and sat down beside him.