The next morning came slow, gray, and quiet. The kind of morning that felt like it hadn't decided whether to wake up or not.
Max walked down the corridor with a cardboard box in his arms, packed with glossy flyers and rolled-up posters that smelled like fresh ink. The edges dug into his palms as he shifted the weight. He had no idea how he ended up doing this.
"You know," he said flatly, "I don't remember signing up for manual labor."
Beside him, Reina Takamine sipped from a carton of strawberry milk like she'd been born above responsibility. Her hair caught the morning light, every curl deliberate.
"You didn't," she said, her tone easy, amused. "You volunteered yesterday."
"I was told to step outside."
"Same thing."
He gave her a look. "You make that a habit?"
She smiled without missing a beat. "Only when someone makes an impression."
Max adjusted the box, pretending to ignore the glance she gave him.
The hallway turned toward the student wing, where the Event Committee Room waited. The door was propped open, music faintly spilling out. Inside, a half-dozen students hurried about—hanging streamers, sorting brochures, arguing over color palettes. The air smelled of tape, markers, and too much caffeine.
Reina stepped in first, commanding the room like she owned it.
"Morning, everyone. Help him not drop those boxes."
Someone laughed. A few curious eyes drifted to Max.
"That's him, right? From 2-B?"
"The quiet one?"
"He's taller than I thought."
Max set the box on a nearby table with a dull thud. Reina crouched beside him, flipping through flyers printed in gold and white.
"Cultural Exhibition's next week," she said. "It's chaos, but good chaos. You'll see."
"Can't wait."
"You'll survive." She smiled. "If not, I'll write something nice on your poster."
He almost smiled back. Almost.
The Cultural Exhibition. The school's biggest event of the year—every club showing off, every hallway a performance.
The committee moved on, everyone returning to their chatter. Max kept to the background, scanning the room. Reina fit here easily—commanding, witty, charming. The kind of person who thrived in noise. He'd spent most of his life avoiding people like her. And yet, somehow, here he was, carrying her boxes.
The door slid open behind them.
"Sorry I'm late," a calm voice said.
The air in the room shifted instantly. Conversations tapered off as a tall figure stepped inside. His uniform was sharp, his posture effortless. A lanyard hung loose from his neck—Student Council Logistics Division.
"Ryo," Reina said, her voice shifting—lighter, almost warm. "You actually showed up."
He stepped inside with a small grin, setting down a folder. "You said you'd be here, so of course I did."
The way he said it made a few students glance up; the familiarity between them wasn't something you could miss.
A few students laughed nervously and went back to their tasks.
Reina turned, gesturing toward Max. "Ryo, this is Holloway. The transfer I told you about."
Ryo extended a hand, calm and confident. "Nice to finally meet you."
Max hesitated only a second before taking it. The handshake was firm, perfectly measured—but there was something under it, a strength that wasn't just physical.
"Likewise," Max said.
Ryo's smile stayed in place, unreadable. "Reina's been talking about you."
"Should I be worried?"
Reina smirked. "Relax. He's harmless. Ryo's my boyfriend—he just likes testing people."
The word boyfriend landed soft, but it stuck in the air like static.
"That so?" Max said evenly.
"That's so," Ryo replied, tone light but eyes sharp. "She doesn't usually notice people."
Reina rolled her eyes. "That's not true."
Ryo chuckled, still watching Max. "It's okay. I like knowing who she's spending her time with."
The way he said it wasn't threatening—but it wasn't harmless either.
Max didn't blink. "I'm sure you do."
Reina glanced between them, sensing the static in the air. "Relax, both of you. It's too early for a chest beating."
Ryo laughed easily. "You're right." Then to Max, "Just kidding, by the way. Don't take it personally. I just like making sure the people around Reina aren't trouble."
"Guess we'll find out," Max said.
For a moment, their eyes held—two smiles, neither friendly.
Reina exhaled, breaking the silence. "Okay, that's enough of that. Ryo, help me sort these banners before the presentation."
"Got it." Ryo released Max's hand, turning to her with casual ease. The shift was smooth, practiced. He moved around the room, greeting other committee members, offering quick suggestions that people actually listened to.
He had presence—the kind that filled space without trying.
Max stayed back, adjusting the edges of the posters just to keep his hands busy. Every so often, Reina tossed him a remark:
"Careful with that."
"Not crooked."
"Don't glare at it—it's paper."
And every time, he caught Ryo's sidelong glance. Polite. Watchful.
By the time the meeting wrapped, the sun had slipped lower, washing the windows in gold.
Reina wiped her hands on her cardigan. "Not bad for a first day, Holloway. You didn't even look miserable the whole time."
"I was hiding it."
"Ah, progress."
Ryo stacked a few leftover papers, his voice light. "You're a good sport, Holloway. I wasn't sure you'd last the hour."
"Neither was I."
Reina laughed. "Don't scare him off already."
Ryo shrugged. "Just keeping him humble."
They all left the room together. At the end of the hall, Ryo split off toward the council offices, giving Reina a light pat on the head before he left. She smiled faintly after him.
Max adjusted his bag. "You two seem… different."
She raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"
"He's calm. You're… not."
She smirked. "That's why it works."
"I'll take your word for it."
They walked side by side until they reached the main stairwell. Reina stopped there, resting her arms on the railing.
"You're not what I expected either," she said. "Yesterday you looked like you'd bite someone if they spoke to you."
"Still might."
Her laugh was soft, genuine. "You should smile more. It makes people less nervous."
"I'll keep that in mind."
"Good." She tilted her head slightly, studying him. "See you tomorrow, Holloway."
He watched her go, sunlight painting the edge of her hair gold.
When the hall finally emptied, he stood there for a moment longer, eyes unfocused. His hand still ached faintly from Ryo's grip. He told himself it was nothing—just tension, just nerves.
But as he walked away, the words echoed anyway.
She doesn't usually notice people.
And somehow, that didn't feel like a compliment