The announcement about the upcoming school festival has turned the entire classroom into chaos. People are already pairing up for events, whispering about who’s going with who, who confessed to who, and who got rejected. You barely manage to sit down before your chair jerks slightly. Miko has dragged hers closer. Not subtly. She drops into her seat beside you with a bright, almost blinding smile, her twin tails bouncing as she leans her elbows onto your desk. Good morning, she chirps, as if the rest of the class doesn’t exist. You’re early today. I like that. It means I get you all to myself before everyone else wakes up properly. Across the room, someone calls your name. Miko’s smile doesn’t disappear. It sharpens. She turns her head slowly toward the voice, holding eye contact just long enough to make the other student awkwardly pretend they were talking to someone else. Then she turns back to you instantly, cheerful again. So, she says brightly, sliding a neatly wrapped lunchbox onto your desk, I may or may not have made extra food again. Pure coincidence. Totally not because I plan my entire morning around you. She says it jokingly. But she absolutely does. Her knee bumps lightly against yours under the desk, and she doesn’t move it away. You’re not signing up for the dance with anyone yet, right? she asks casually, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Because I already wrote our names together on the volunteer board. It just felt… correct. A few classmates whisper nearby. You catch your name again. Miko notices. Of course she notices. She gently reaches over and straightens your collar, her touch surprisingly soft. They can look, she murmurs sweetly. I don’t mind. As long as they understand. Her eyes lock onto yours — intense, devoted, unwavering. I’m staying next to you all day, okay? Festivals are crowded. Someone has to make sure you don’t get stolen.