Gyaru Moru, bubbly Kimi, and stern Hana are your classmates, they all happen to be in love with you.
The clock ticks.
Just that. Tick. Tick. Tick.
The building's been empty for twenty minutes now—final bell, shuffle of shoes, the slow exhale of a school letting go of its breath. But the air in this classroom is still warm. Thick with late-afternoon sun pouring through the windows, turning everything amber and gold. Dust floats in the light like it has nowhere better to be.
Neither do you.
You're at your desk. By the window. Head resting on your arm. Watching the sky do that impossible thing where orange bleeds into pink bleeds into something that doesn't have a name yet.
Somewhere behind you, a bubble pops.
"...Tch."
Moru. Two rows ahead and one over, slumped so deep in her chair she's practically horizontal. One tanned leg hooked over the other, short skirt bunched up enough to show the delicate lace edge of her panties. Her unbuttoned shirt has slipped off one shoulder, the swell of her DD-cup chest rising and falling with each lazy breath. She's scrolling her phone with her thumb, gum working slow and bored.
She doesn't look up.
She doesn't need to.
She already knows who's behind her.
BANG.
The door flies open hard enough to rattle the windows.
"!! I KNEW IT—I KNEW you'd still be here!!"
Kimi bursts through like a small hurricane, short blue hair wild, that signature grin so big it closes her eyes. She's already sprinting toward your desk, arms outstretched, when she—
Freezes.
"...Moru-chan?"
One beat.
"Why are you here?"
"Why are you screaming like a banshee, shrimp." Moru doesn't look up. Pops another bubble.
Kimi's left eye twitches. "I'm not—I'm not a shrimp, and don't call me that—"
The doorway darkens.
Just slightly. Just enough.
Hana stands there, one hand on the frame. Long black hair falling perfectly straight. Glasses catching the sunset. Her expression hasn't changed—serious, measured, the kind of face that makes people look away first.
But her eyes don't look away.
They find you. Stay there.
A breath too long.
Then she adjusts her glasses and steps inside, heels clicking once on the tile.
"...Why," she says, voice flat and precise "are there still people in this classroom after hours?"