"Hey, Lena. Come see me at my office," Mr. Yon called as the bell rang through the classroom, signaling the start of lunch.
Lena blinked at the sound of her name, her fingers tightening around her pencil. "Okay…" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she tucked her notebooks into her bag. Around her, chairs scraped, voices rose, and the classroom quickly began shifting into its usual lunchtime chaos. The noise made her feel small.
"Dang, Lena, Mr. Yon calls you up a lot," a voice said beside her.
She jumped slightly, turning to see the tall boy who sat next to her—messy hair, easy smile, and friendly tone. Lena didn't know his name; she never knew names, to be honest. She remembered the words they shared briefly at lunch yesterday with Umire.
"Yeah…" she mumbled, looking down as she shoved the last of her things into her bag. She needed to get out of this conversation. She didn't have the right words. She never did.
Before she could escape, another voice chimed in. "Wait—are you eating with Umire again today?" A girl piped up from beside the boy. Lena recognized her—one of the girls from the group yesterday.
"I…" Lena started to answer, but her gaze drifted toward the back of the room.
Umire was asleep.
Slumped over her desk by the window, her dark hair spilling like ink across the wood, her chest rising and falling in soft rhythm. She looked peaceful, almost dreamlike, the sunlight casting a faint glow over her; something about her made her seem untouchable. Lena blinked, unsure if she'd been like that the whole class or had only just drifted off. She distantly thought of how tired Umire had seemed earlier and wondered if something had happened.
They were supposed to eat together. But now…
"She said she was eating with me," a cold voice cut in.
Lena's stomach dropped. She turned to see Yuna standing a few desks away, arms crossed, her eyes locked directly on her.
The air in the room shifted, tension sharp and sudden.
"Oh, Yuna—haha, I heard you got dumped by Umire. How's the breakup going?" Luka laughed casually, clearly trying to joke.
Yuna didn't laugh.
"Shut up, Luka," she snapped, her gaze never leaving Lena. "She's just hanging out with the new girl because Mr. Yon forced her to."
Luka. So that was his name, Lena thought distantly, before she took in the rest of the words Lena had spat out.
Lena froze. The words hit her harder than she expected. Too on the nose. Too familiar.
Yuna's eyes narrowed, her face full of quiet resentment. It wasn't loud or dramatic—but it was the kind of look Lena knew. The kind that stayed with you. That told you exactly what someone thought of you, even if they didn't say it outright.
"Wait, for real...?" The joking tone slipped from his voice. "Being class president is hard…" Luka trailed off with an awkward laugh, seemingly oblivious to the tension crackling in the air.
"Lena," Yuna said coolly, her gaze cutting sharp as glass. "Don't you have to go to Mr. Yon? You wouldn't want to keep him waiting, would you?"
Lena froze, her fingers tightening around her bag strap. Four sets of eyes settled on her like a weight she couldn't shrug off. Her mouth opened, but no words came. Her tongue felt too thick, her mind blank.
Her eyes flicked toward the back of the room.
Umire was still asleep—her head resting on her arms, her back rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm. She looked untouched by all of this, like she existed in some quiet world just beyond Lena's reach.
Should I tell her I'll be late?
Would she even care?
Yuna's words echoed like a whisper in her skull: She's just hanging out with the new girl because Mr. Yon made her.
Lena took a hesitant step toward the door.
"Yeah. Bye. I gotta go," she muttered stiffly, the words sticking in her throat as she turned away.
Somewhere deep down—past the awkwardness and uncertainty and that awful, aching doubt—she found herself hoping. Hoping Umire would lift her head and reach out. Hoping she'd grab her hand like she did before, smile like she meant it, and tell her she'd wait.
But that moment never came.
"Bye, Lena!" Luka called cheerfully behind her. She flinched. Turning her head, she caught his casual wave before he spun back around, laughing with his friends.
"Hey, let's hurry to lunch before all the good stuff's gone." his voice faded as the classroom buzzed back to life.
Lena didn't look back.
The treats she had packed—little things she made herself, small hopes wrapped in foil—suddenly felt too heavy in her bag, like stones. She walked faster.
Her heartbeat pounded in her ears like footsteps echoing down a long, empty hallway.
The corridors outside were full of life—students flooding toward the cafeteria, chatting in pairs and groups, some leaning against lockers, others playfully shoving each other. Everyone had someone. Everyone was talking to someone. And Lena? She felt like she was shrinking with every step.
She thought of yesterday—walking beside Umire after school. The quiet was easy then. The walk felt short, her chest light. She remembered laughing—actually laughing.
Now, every step to the teacher's office felt like trudging through water.
A part of her wanted to throw the baked goods into the nearest trash can. What was the point? Yuna's words swirled like oil in her chest, cold and bitter. She could picture Yuna twirling Umire's hair around her fingers, laughing together like they belonged. Like Lena had never existed at all.
Her stomach twisted.
The thoughts became loud. Ugly. Unformed.
Panicked, she shoved a hand into her bag and yanked out her earbuds, jamming them in with shaking fingers. Music blasted into her skull the second she hit play—too loud, too much—but it was better than hearing her own mind.
The lyrics flooded her head, and she clung to them like a rope.
But even that betrayed her. She remembered—Umire, just this morning, sitting with her by the window. One earbud was in her ear, the other in Lena's. The cord between them was like a thread, like a connection.
The memory hit her like a bruise.
She gritted her teeth and turned the volume up higher. She didn't want to remember that.
The walk to the teacher's office passed in a heavy, painful blur. Each step felt like it dragged her deeper into a fog she couldn't shake. Her ears throbbed from the blaring music she'd shoved into them, trying to drown everything out—but it only made the pounding in her head worse.
And still—Umire's face lingered.
Peaceful. Warm. Distant.
By the time she reached the teacher's office, everything felt too loud and too quiet all at once.
"Oh! Lena, you're here!" Mr. Yon's voice snapped her back to reality.
She blinked.
Only a few teachers remained in the office, scattered among desks and talking softly. The rest had already gone to lunch.
Lena took a breath, trying to settle the storm in her chest.
But even now, even here, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping through her fingers—and she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to get it back.
"Mr. Yon," she said quickly, heading toward his desk. She had made sure to remember its location this time—she didn't want to stand around like last time, awkward and unsure. Something told her this wouldn't be the last time he called her like this.
"Don't look so stressed, Lena. You're not in trouble," Mr. Yon said, though his gaze had already fallen to the paper on his desk.
Her stomach sank. Her homework.
She recognized her messy handwriting instantly. Of course. She had known he'd eventually notice how not a single answer was right. The problems had asked her to show her work, but she didn't even know where to begin—so she'd just scribbled numbers in different ways, hoping it would at least look like she tried.
Her shoulders tensed as panic started creeping in. If he was already looking this closely at her paper, then what about tonight's homework? Would he check that too?
It wasn't that she wasn't trying. God, she was. She studied until she fell asleep at her desk, haunted by the fear of being called to the front again only to humiliate herself in front of everyone. But no matter how many times she read through the material, the moment she sat down to solve something, everything vanished—like trying to hold on to smoke.
"Lena," Mr. Yon said gently, holding the paper now in his lap, "how would you feel about having someone help you study after school?"
"I… u-uh… I can handle it myself."
"I believe that," he said, voice still kind. "And I'm not blaming you for falling a bit behind—I've been told about your situation. But you don't have to carry all of this by yourself."
That look. That expression. The same one her mom gave her—soft, careful, and full of an obligation she never asked for. It made Lena feel like she was rotting inside. Whenever adults looked at her like that, it always stirred up this slow-building mix of guilt and disgust that settled in her chest like a stone.
"You studied with Umire before, right? She said it went well," Mr. Yon added as he turned in his chair to dig through one of his drawers.
Lena blinked. She remembered that day—the day Umire had asked if they could be best friends. They were supposed to study, but they never really did. Umire had scrolled on her phone and leaned back in her chair, obviously bored. Lena had just scribbled nonsense again, too afraid to ask questions, too afraid to be a bother.
"Yes…" she lied, voice barely audible.
"How about this—an hour after school, every other day. With Umire," he said, like it was already decided.
"I-I…" Lena hesitated, Yuna's voice echoing in her head. She's only hanging out with you because the teacher asked her to. Her chest tightened. She didn't want Umire to feel forced to help her. Didn't want to ruin whatever was left between them. "I'm fine," she murmured.
"Let's just try it for a week, okay?" Mr. Yon said brightly, already turning back to his desk. "She's the class president—it's her job to help her classmates. Don't feel like you're bothering her. She's top of the class, I'm sure she'll be a great help."
Something in Lena's chest snapped.
She wanted to scream. Why didn't anyone listen?
Umire was going to get tired of her. She'd get annoyed. She'd leave. And then everyone would whisper again—about how pathetic, how needy Lena was.
Lena clenched her fists tight, her nails digging into her palms. She tried to beat back the oncoming panic, but the flood was already rising. Ugly memories and half-coherent thoughts tangled together in her mind. Her mom was going to check her pills. She didn't have an excuse yet for the one she used yesterday. What if her mom figured it out? What would she say?
"I don't want you to miss all of lunch here." Mr. Yon stood and handed her back her paper. "I'll talk to Umire about the study sessions. Don't worry, okay? Go on and enjoy your break."
He smiled again and turned away, completely missing the weight that had settled on her shoulders.
Lena stared at his back, a lump forming in her throat. Why don't they ever listen? she thought bitterly, her eyes stinging.
She turned and left stiffly, her steps slow, like she was walking underwater. The halls had mostly emptied now. As she climbed the stairs, her thoughts only grew darker—louder. She didn't even bother putting her headphones back in her mind racing.
Umire was going to get tired of her. Just like everyone else. She'd leave too.
And Lena would be alone again.
Just like she was supposed to be.
She imagined Umire looking at her with that same forced smile, imagined the annoyance slowly creeping into her eyes. It would happen. Of course, it would. Umire would get tired of pretending. She'd drift away like everyone else, and Lena would be alone again. Just like she always was. Just like she deserved.
Before she knew it, she was standing outside the classroom door, staring at it in a daze. Her hand hovered near the handle, unmoving. Her breath caught.
Was Umire inside?
Was she waiting?
Or had she already left—with Yuna—laughing, forgetting Lena ever existed?
The weight of the treats in her bag suddenly felt suffocating. She had spent so long making them last night, her hands trembling the entire time, clinging to the stupid hope that maybe, just maybe, she'd have someone to share them with.
Idiot.
Of course, Umire wasn't here because she wanted to be. Mr. Yon had probably forced her into it. Just another lie wrapped in fake smiles and polite words.
Lena's chest tightened as another memory rose, unbidden—Umire's cold fingers curling around hers, her expression unreadable, her jet-black eyes strangely hollow as she said, "I like you."
What did that even mean?
Was any of it real?
Somehow, Umire always felt like a dream—too perfect, too composed, too hollow. Like a doll playing a role someone else had written for her. One moment warm, the next distant. Loving. Empty. Lena couldn't tell which was real. Maybe none of it.
Her hand reached for the door.
She made a decision.
If Umire wasn't there, she'd stop. She'd force herself to wake up from this illusion and let the dream die. No more hope. No more delusions.
But if she was… if Umire was still waiting…
Maybe she could believe. Just a little. Maybe she could hold on to the idea that something about it was real. Even if it was a lie. Even if it broke her later. Something inside her—small and trembling—wanted to believe.
With her heart pounding, Lena slid the door open. This time, she didn't slip in quietly like she usually did. She threw it wide.
The door slammed against the wall with a sharp echo that cracked through the silence of the room. The sound made her flinch, but she didn't stop. She stepped inside.
Light from the uncovered windows spilled across the floor in warm stripes, the sun glowing too brightly for how cold she felt inside. She kept her gaze low, afraid to look. Her chest felt ready to burst. She didn't want to see.
She didn't want to wake up.
Still, she forced her eyes open, lifting her head slowly, gaze drawn like a magnet to the back corner of the classroom.
Please be there.
Please let this be real.
Her breath caught as she saw black hair—Umire's unmistakable form, slouched in sleep exactly where she'd left her.
Umire.
But then—
A hand.
Delicate fingers rested gently atop Umire's head. Stroking. Possessive.
Yuna.
"What the…?" Yuna's voice muttered, startled.
She was sitting in the seat Lena had sat in just before. Her startled expression locked with Lena's from across the room, her hand still in Umire's hair as if she had every right to be there.
Lena didn't move at first.
Relief flooded her. Then, confusion. And then, faster than she could stop it, something bitter began to rise. Something sharp and ugly, coiling tight in her gut.
Before she realized what she was doing, her legs carried her forward. No hesitation. No fear. Just movement. Her usual anxiousness burned away under something far hotter.
Yuna blinked. "What's wrong with you? Why'd you slam the door like that?"
Lena didn't answer.
She just walked closer, eyes fixed on Yuna's hand, still resting on Umire's soft curls.
Her teeth ground together.
She wanted—needed—to rip that hand away.
To scream.
To make it stop.
To ruin something.
Something in her was breaking.
And all she could do was watch it happen.
"YOU—" Lena's voice sliced through the air like glass, colder than even she expected. It sounded foreign in her ears, sharp and trembling with something closer to desperation than rage.
But the moment shattered before it could fully form.
Umire stirred, shifting slightly with a small groan as her head rose from the desk. Strands of her hair lifted with her, caught still between Yuna's fingers.
"Oh… Yuna…?" she mumbled groggily, eyes half-lidded as they flickered toward her.
Her gaze drifted down to the place where Yuna's hand had lingered in her hair. The second their eyes met, Yuna's expression twisted. As if yanked by a string, she dropped the strands instantly, pulling her hand away as though burned.
"I-I wasn't—I didn't mean—" Yuna stumbled over her words, her voice a clumsy scramble for innocence.
Umire sighed, slow and quiet. Then, she turned—her head tilting lazily until her eyes landed on Lena.
Something lit up in her face.
"Lena!" she said, suddenly awake, her voice warm and bright in a way that made Lena's heart stutter. "Gosh, I was waiting for you—I'm starving."
She smiled. Just for her.
The warmth in Umire's voice curled around her like smoke—sweet, familiar, but hard to breathe in.
That look in Umire's eyes, that promise of forever—was it just another story, spun like sugar, too pretty to last?
And for one awful second, Lena felt like she was standing in front of a loaded gun... and calling it love.
Umire's soft smile felt like a gift… and a weapon threatening to destroy Lena whole.