---
They worked in silence.
Not together—just beside each other. Haru didn't even draw. He just flipped through his pad aimlessly, sneaking glances.
He didn't know what he was looking for. A crack, maybe. A thought. A feeling.
But Ren gave nothing.
Until someone else stepped into the room.
"Yo, Takahashi. Club's not the same without your brooding energy."
A cheerful voice—loud, confident. Haru flinched at the sudden brightness.
He looked up.
A boy leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his blazer pockets. Tousled light brown hair. Soft features. A smile so natural it looked like it lived there permanently.
Ren didn't respond. He barely looked up.
The boy turned his attention to Haru instead.
"New face?"
Haru nodded slowly. "Minami. Haru Minami."
The boy smiled wider and walked over, hand extended.
"Souta Ishikawa. I come by sometimes to bother Ren and pretend I have artistic talent."
Haru took his hand—warm, firm grip. Friendly eyes.
He felt it immediately.
"He's cute. Kind of serious. But I like that look."
Haru stiffened.
Souta's thoughts weren't loud, but they were… focused. Direct. Kind.
And unmistakably about him.
It caught Haru off guard—he wasn't used to being liked so openly. People were curious, sure. But this was different. Souta's thoughts were warm. Honest. Like the sun after a long winter.
"I like your name," Souta added, sitting across from him. "You draw?"
"Not really," Haru said.
"You should. Ren here won't admit it, but he works better when someone's beside him."
Ren didn't react.
But Haru saw his pencil pause for a split second.
Just a fraction.
He glanced at Ren—and for the first time, he thought he saw something. A flicker of tension behind that calm exterior.
Not jealousy. Not quite.
But something close.
---
Souta stayed longer than Haru expected.
He didn't seem like an art club regular, but he made himself comfortable anyway—teasing Ren softly, making casual jokes, chatting with Haru like they'd known each other for weeks instead of minutes.
And every time Souta laughed or leaned in a little too close, Haru felt Ren grow just a bit… stiller.
Almost like he was listening.
"Hey," Souta said suddenly, nudging Haru's notebook. "You really not gonna draw anything?"
"I don't know how."
"So? That's why you join a club, right? To figure it out."
Souta grabbed a pencil from a nearby jar and placed it gently into Haru's hand. His fingers brushed against Haru's. Warm again.
Haru blinked.
"He's interesting. I wonder if he'd ever open up to me."
Souta's thoughts came quietly again, but not by accident. They were careful, genuine.
It made Haru's chest tighten.
Because unlike Ren, Souta was real. Haru could hear every flicker of doubt, every curiosity, every quiet compliment. And it didn't scare him.
It felt… safe.
But even so, his eyes drifted sideways.
Ren was still drawing. Still not looking at them.
Yet Haru couldn't shake the sense that he was watching. That somehow, in his silence, he noticed everything.
"Alright, I'll leave you two artists to it," Souta finally said, standing up and stretching. "See you around, Haru."
He flashed a warm smile before disappearing through the door.
The room felt colder without him.
And for the first time since they met, Ren spoke without being spoken to.
"You shouldn't let him get close to you."
Haru turned, startled.
"Why?"
Ren didn't look at him. "He gets attached easily."
"Is that supposed to be a bad thing?"
Ren's pencil slowed to a stop. His voice dropped—quiet, distant.
"It is when you don't know how to return it."
Haru stared at him, the silence between them heavier than ever.
He wanted to ask—Are you talking about me? Or yourself?
But he didn't.
Not yet.
---
To be continued....
***