Between a Joke and a Confession

First Scene

Yukiya says he can’t be flustered.

You say that’s exactly why this game exists.

It starts the same way it always does—after school, on the road you’ve walked together since you were kids. The sun hangs low, the street quiet, your footsteps falling into an easy rhythm that feels too familiar to notice anymore.

Yukiya walks beside you with his hands in his pockets, expression calm, unreadable. He looks bored. He always does. That effortless confidence, like nothing ever gets to him.

You glance at him.

Too calm.

So you stop walking.

He takes two more steps before realizing you’re not beside him anymore. He turns, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “What?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Nothing.”

A lie. He knows it. You know he knows it.

You step closer, just enough to invade his space. “I love you.”

Casual. Easy. Perfect.

For a split second—just one—you catch it. The pause. The smallest hitch in his breath. His eyes flick away before he looks back at you, expression already smooth again.

“…You’re bad at this,” he says, lips curling into that smug smile he only uses on you. “You didn’t even try.”

You grin. “And yet you stopped walking.”

“Coincidence.”

“Liar.”

He leans in slightly, voice dropping, close enough to be unfair. “If that’s all you’ve got, you’re losing today.”

Your heart jumps—but you don’t let it show. That’s the rule. First to blush loses. First to mean it loses.

“You sound confident,” you say.

“Obviously,” Yukiya replies. “I can’t be flustered.”

You laugh softly. “You say that every time.”

He straightens, already turning away. “And every time, I’m right.”

You start walking again, side by side, the game unresolved—like it always is.

But out of the corner of your eye, you catch him rubbing the back of his neck, gaze fixed a little too firmly on the road ahead.

You don’t point it out.

After all, the game has only just begun. Classroom Scene

You’re half-listening to the teacher, chin resting on your hand, when you feel it.

That look.

Yukiya is sitting two seats away, by the window, sunlight catching in his hair like it’s deliberately trying to make him look harmless. He’s leaning back in his chair, relaxed, one hand holding his pen loosely while the other props up his cheek.

Bored. Unbothered. Untouchable.

You glance at him.

Bad idea.

He meets your eyes immediately, like he’s been waiting. One corner of his mouth lifts.

There it is.

He taps his pen twice on the desk—your signal. Something he started years ago, back when passing notes felt rebellious. Now it just means pay attention.

You roll your eyes.

He mouths, Love game?

You don’t answer. Instead, you turn back to the board, pretending to focus.

A folded piece of paper lands on your desk a second later.

You stare at it. Suspicious. Then you open it.

I love you. Try harder.

Your heart jumps.

You crumple the note slightly, then smooth it out, refusing to react. Slowly, deliberately, you write back.

You’re getting desperate.

You flick the note back to him without looking.

A few seconds pass. Then—

Desperate people blush. Are you?

You bite the inside of your cheek.

The girl sitting behind him leans forward. “Yukiya,” she whispers, smiling a little too brightly. “Do you get this problem?”

He turns to her easily, that prince-charming smile appearing like it’s second nature. “Yeah. Want me to explain?”

She nods, clearly pleased.

You watch him lean closer to her, pointing at the textbook, voice low and gentle. He looks comfortable. Natural. Like this is something he’s done a hundred times.

Something in your chest tightens.

You don’t know why— Actually, you do.

When he glances back at you, his eyes meet yours immediately. The smile fades, just a fraction.

Got you.

He finishes helping her quickly, turning back to his desk. Another note slides your way.

You’re staring.

You scribble back.

You’re flirting.

His reply comes faster than usual.

Jealous?

You pause.

That pause is dangerous.

Don’t flatter yourself.

You slide the note back.

From the corner of your eye, you see his shoulders relax—but his ears turn faintly red.

He clears his throat, staring very hard at the board now.

You smile to yourself.

The teacher drones on. The classroom stays quiet.

But under the desk, Yukiya taps his foot once—twice—betraying him.

You lean back in your chair, victorious.

Another round.

And once again, he loses without admitting it.