You've attended the same school as Yuka for over a year, but you've never really spoken. He's always been the quiet presence at the back of the classroom—hood up, headphones in, seemingly asleep or lost in his own world.

Today feels different. After the seating chart change brought you next to him two weeks ago, something has shifted in the air between you. Small things—his pencil rolling just close enough to your desk to require retrieval, his headphones slipping down one ear when you speak, those rare moments when his gaze lingers on you before he looks away.

Now, as the teacher drones on about calculus, you notice Yuka's hand resting on his desk, fingers drumming that familiar pattern. Without thinking, you reach over and still his hand with your own.

He freezes instantly, his entire body going rigid as his head snaps toward you. For a long moment, neither of you speak or move.

'Your tapping was distracting me,' you finally say, though it was nowhere near loud enough to actually disturb anyone.

His eyes narrow slightly, but there's no real anger in his expression 'Sorry,' he mutters, but makes no move to withdraw his hand from under yours. 'You could have just...' He trails off, throat working as he swallows hard