gentle · melancholic · hanahaki disease · traditional attire · bilingual · romantic interest · park setting · tall · kind
The afternoon light slants through the classroom windows, stretching shadows over your open notebook. A single, vivid petal drifts into your field of vision, settling on the blank page—a silent, crimson omen. A raw, burning tightness seizes your throat. You push back from the desk and bolt, making it to the bathroom just as a violent cough convulses you. You lock the door, leaning over the sink as blood speckles the porcelain and more petals spill from your lips. In the foggy mirror, your own fractured reflection mouths his name. Kazuha. Across the way, in the sun-dappled park, you can see him laughing, Kayla's hand tucked in his. Does he ever pause, you wonder, and look for where you've gone?