#make reader insert

Avidity : The quality of being extremely eager or interested

One late night, you drift off after binge-reading your favorite horror manga—only to wake up in another world. To your horror, you’ve been reincarnated as a minor side character who was originally killed off by the main protagonist. Determined to survive, you hatch a cunning plan: avoid the protagonist, dodge every love interest, and fade into the background as a forgettable extra. But fate has other plans. One by one, they start noticing you—and your quiet rebellion only makes you more irresistible.

Ch. 06 ; New Girl

Chapter 7

You slowly awoke to the sound of knocks coming from outside your door, the rhythmic tapping pulling you from a dream you couldn't quite remember. 

"M/N, wake up. I've made breakfast," Isaac's voice called out.

You only groaned in response, turning your head to the side and burying your face deeper into the pillow. The sweet coconut aroma of the freshly washed sheets filled your nostrils, and for a moment, you considered just staying there forever. 

Isaac had cleaned and organized your entire bedroom last night while you were out at the library — every book aligned, every piece of clothing folded, every surface dusted. 

‘I wonder what sorcery he has a hold on to make me want to eat my socks from how good his food smells’, you thought drowsily. ‘Hm, at least I get a high-quality, free cleaning service out of this arrangement.’

Your thoughts were quickly cut off by another knock, firmer this time. "M/N? Please get up, breakfast is still hot."

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep. 

You swiftly sat up in bed, rubbing your eyes as the morning sunlight streamed through the curtains and hit your face. 

You blinked a few times, letting your vision adjust, before hopping off the bed and slipping your feet into the bunny slippers that Isaac had gifted you. You had no idea where he'd found them, but they were absurdly comfortable.

You slumped toward your bedroom door, your movements slow and heavy, and checked the clock right above the doorframe: 7:02AM.

You opened the door to find Isaac already in the living room, a mop in his hands and a polite smile on his face. "M/N," he greeted, nodding at you as he pushed the mop across the floor in smooth strokes. "You're finally up. Come grab a seat."

"Alright," you said, shuffling past him toward the dining table. Your eyes landed on a plate of golden-brown pancakes, steam still rising from the stack, and you couldn't help the small noise of appreciation that escaped you. "Ooo, chocolate chip pancakes?"

Isaac widened his eyes slightly, almost nervously, before smiling. "I hope that isn't one of your dietary restrictions."

"No, no!" you assured him, already reaching for a fork. "I'm just really grateful for the effort you put into this, and last night's dinner as well."

"Of course, M/N." Isaac returned to his mopping, his voice softening. "I'm hoping this increases your likeliness of me."

"It certainly does," you chuckled, cutting into the pancakes and taking a bite. The chocolate melted on your tongue, it tasted warm and sweet,. "I really need to make it up to you for doing so much for me."

"You can start by cleaning the dishes." Isaac looked up at you expectantly, his grey eyes catching the light. Then, after a pause, he added, almost shyly, "And… I was hoping we could become friends."

You hummed thoughtfully, chewing on your pancake. "Hm. I'll need some time to think about that."

Isaac's brow furrowed. "About what?"

"Cleaning the dishes."

Isaac blinked. Then, after a beat, he let out a sound that was almost a laugh — a short, staccato "Hahaha. Hilarious," delivered in the same monotone voice he used for everything else.

You smiled, choosing not to question his laugh, and continued digging into your pancakes. They were perfect — fluffy, sweet, with just the right amount of chocolate. You were starting to suspect Isaac might secretly be a professional chef in disguise.

Isaac mopped in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the swish of the mop and the clink of your fork against the plate. Then, without looking up, he said, "Wren came by last night."

Your fork paused mid-air. That got your attention. You sat up straighter, your appetite suddenly fading. "Really? I thought you weren't there at the time."

Isaac tilted his head, still focused on his mopping. "It was really late, at around midnight or so. He brought a basket of snacks. You weren't here."

Your mind raced. ‘I thought… he already handed me a basket of snacks before the library. Why would he bring another one? Or did he bring the same one? Did he come back after I left?’

"He left the basket with me," Isaac continued. "I put it in our kitchen pantry."

You nodded awkwardly, setting down your fork. "I'll bring them back to him later."

Isaac's eyebrow rose, his mop pausing mid-stroke. "Why? I assume it was a friendly gesture from your…" He cleared his throat awkwardly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Friend."

"He's not my friend," you said, perhaps too quickly.

"Ah, my apologies… your partner?" Isaac nervously corrected himself, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I don't mean to offend you. I'll have you know that I'm completely supportive of same-sex relationships."

"No, I meant," you said, your voice firmer now, "I don't consider him a friend or anything else anymore."

Isaac was quiet for a moment, processing your words. "Oh.. I see." He leaned the mop against the wall and walked over to the table, pulling out the chair across from you and sitting down. His grey eyes studied your face with an intensity that made you want to look away. "I don't want to pry any further, but I can't help but be curious as to why. Wren is quite popular here, and you had a.. history with him, no?"

You paused, your fingers drumming against the table. "I know," you said slowly, choosing your words with care. "Everybody knows about 'my' past, I guess, and I know there's nothing good about any of it. I…" You tried your best to explain, your voice softening. "I don't want to associate myself with my past. College is a huge step for me to.. move on and change. Wren is the biggest association of my past, and I don't feel right being around him."

Isaac was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed, reaching across the table to place his hand over yours. His palm was warm, slightly calloused. "Listen, M/N. College is a fresh start that is entirely yours to shape. The discomfort you feel now is a sign of your growth and desire for something better for yourself. If you want to avoid Wren, then I respect that." He paused, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. "I suggest you join new groups to build a new social circle for yourself. Try new hobbies. Change your routine. I want to help you."

You absorbed what Isaac said before nodding slowly. "Clubs… yeah, I'll try that." You looked up at him, offering a small smile. "Thanks, Isaac, for listening."

Isaac brightened, his smile widening. "Of course, M/N. That is what friends do."

You thought about the snack basket sitting in the pantry. ‘I should throw it away’, you decided. ‘Or give it to someone else. Anything but accept it. Accepting it would be a mistake..’

The morning air was cool against your skin as you stepped outside, the sun still low in the sky.

The campus was slowly waking up around you — a few students shuffling toward buildings like zombies, someone yawning on a bench, the distant sound of a cart being wheeled across the courtyard.

Azure was waiting for you by his dorm, exactly where you'd agreed to meet. He was clutching his bag like a lifeline, his knuckles white around the straps, but his face instantly lit up when he spotted you approaching.

"M/N! H-hey!" Azure called out, waving awkwardly.

"Hey, Azure," you said, falling into step beside him.

You and Azure started walking toward the staircase that led to the main academic building. Azure talked softly about a game he'd been playing. You nodded along, half-listening, half-scanning your surroundings out of habit.

That's when you saw them.

Three guys, leaning against the railing of the building steps. The one in the middle spotted you first, his face splitting into a wide, ugly grin.

"Well, well!" he called out, pushing off the railing. "Look who's walking together. The stalker and his new bitch?”

Azure's voice died in his throat. His steps slowed, his shoulders hunching.

You kept walking, your pace steady. "Ignore them, Azure." You made sure to step in front of him, positioning your body between him and the three guys.

"Can't ignore me, M/N~" The leader blocked the stairs, spreading his arms wide like he owned the place. His friends snickered behind him. "You think just because Wren rejected you, everyone's going to forget how you used to be? You're still a monster."

Azure grabbed your sleeve, his fingers trembling. "L-Let's, er, g-go aroun—"

"Where?" The leader spread his arms wider. "There's only one way up these stairs."

You stopped. You were taller than the leader — not by much, but enough. You looked down at him, your expression flat. "Move."

The leader's smile flickered, just for a moment.

"Move."

A new female voice. 

You turned your head. A girl had appeared beside you — you hadn't even heard her approach.

She was holding a notebook against her chest, dressed in the college's standard uniform, her dark hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

"Move," she repeated, looking at the leader with an expression of utter boredom. "You're blocking the stairs. Some of us have class."

The leader laughed, but it sounded forced. "And who are you? His new girlfriend?"

"Nope!" The girl didn't flinch. "I'm a transfer student, and I simply don't have time for this." She glanced at her watch — a cheap digital thing with a scratched face. "You have five seconds to clear the stairs before I find out who your advisor is and have a nice little chat with them about hallway harassment~!”

The leader's jaw tightened. He looked at you, then at her, then at his friends. His shoulders sagged.

"...Whatever." He pushed past you, his shoulder bumping against your arm hard enough to bruise. "This isn't over."

His friends followed, their footsteps echoing as they disappeared down the stairs.

The stairs were clear.

Azure let out a shaky breath, his grip on your sleeve loosening. "T-tha-thank yo-you," he stammered, looking at the girl with wide eyes.

The girl waved her hand dismissively. "Don't mention it! Bullies are lameeee." She turned to look at you, her head tilted. "You're M/N, right?"

"Uh, yes?"

"I'm Naoko!" She fell into step beside you as you started up the stairs, her notebook tucked under her arm. "The new transfer student. I've heard a lot about you."

"None of it good, I'm guessing."

"None of it accurate." She gave you a friendly smile . "I noticed you didn't fight them immediately. Most people with your reputation would have."

"Fighting does no good."

"So I've heard." She laughed, a bright, genuine sound.

You reached the top of the stairs. The building entrance was ahead, students streaming through the doors.

"What class do you have?" Naoko asked.

Azure blinked, startled to be included. "E-economics.."

"Same!" Naoko clapped her hands together. "Mind if I walk with you guys? Ugh, I hate being alone. New school, new people, no friends yet. But you two seem nice."

Azure looked at you, startled, like he couldn't believe someone was willingly choosing to spend time with him. You just shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

Naoko grinned.

They found seats at the end of the lecture hall, tucked into the back corner where fewer people would look. 

The spot was isolated, hidden behind a pillar and far from the professor's sight — which was perfect for someone who wanted to go unnoticed. 

Azure sat between you and Naoko, which seemed to make him feel safer; his shoulders were less tense than they'd been that morning, his hands less shaky as he set down his bag. 

The room filled up slowly as students trickled in, the low murmur of conversation swelling into a steady hum.

You noticed Takao enter. He walked in with his usual swagger, his bag slung over one shoulder, his expression carefully blank. Your eyes met across the room for a moment — just a brief flicker of acknowledgment. 

Takao didn't smile, but he gave a short nod, nothing more, before settling into a seat on the opposite side of the room. You nodded back and turned your attention to your notebook.

Then Luka walked in.

You were surprised to see him. ‘Since when was he in this class?’

 You'd never noticed him here before — had he always been here, hiding in plain sight? Or was this a sudden change in the plot?

Your shoulders tensed, your hand freezing over your notebook as the door clicked shut behind him. Luka's gaze swept the room and stopped on you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The air between you felt thick, charged with something you couldn't name — tension? suspicio? maybe something darker?

His dark green eyes bored into yours, unblinking, and you felt your heart rate pick up despite yourself. Then Luka looked away and sat in the back row, his movements stiff and deliberate, his jaw tight.

You let out a slow breath, your fingers unclenching from your pen.

Naoko noticed. Of course she did. Her gaze flickered from Luka to you, her expression curious but carefully neutral. "Friend of yours?" she murmured, not looking up from her notebook.

"No."

"Ah. Enemy?"

"Eh… it's complicated."

She hummed thoughtfully but didn't push, returning her attention to the front of the room. You were grateful for that.

The professor arrived — and began the lecture. You took notes mechanically, your pen moving across the page without your brain really engaging. Your mind was elsewhere, stuck on the memory of Luka's gaze, the weight of it still pressing against your skin.

You could still feel eyes on you. Luka's, from the side. Watching.

As the lecture dragged on toward its end, Naoko turned to you, her chin resting on her palm. "So. Economics. Not your favorite?"

"It's fine, I suppose," you said, shrugging.

"Awe, you look bored."

"I always look like that."

She giggled quietly — bright and genuine, "You're funny! I didn't expect that."

Azure packed his bag slowly, his movements hesitant, like he wasn't sure if he should leave or stay. 

He kept glancing between you and Naoko, his expression uncertain. There was something in his stomach—a strange, fluttery feeling he couldn't quite name. It wasn't discomfort, exactly, but it wasn't ease either. It was like watching two people speak a language he was still learning, catching words here and there but missing the full conversation.

Naoko solved that for him.

"Soooo, lunch?" She slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. "I don't know where anything is! You two can show me."

Azure looked at you, his eyes wide and questioning. You nodded.

"O-okay," Azure said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he zipped up his bag and stood

They met at the cafeteria, claiming the same corner table you'd sat at before. Azure fetched his sandwich while Naoko poked at a salad she didn't seem interested in eating. You had coffee.

"You're not hungry?" Naoko asked, looking at your cup.

"Not really."

"You should eat!”

"You should eat your salad instead of pushing it around."

Naoko's eyes narrowed — but she was smiling. "Touché."

Azure watched you two banter, a small smile on his face. You noticed he'd been smiling more lately, ever since you'd started hanging out. It was a good look on him.

"So," you said, turning back to Naoko. "Where are you from? You said you're a transfer student."

Naoko paused. Her fork hovered over her salad, suspended in mid-air. Then she laughed — a different laugh this time, it felt almost dismissive.

"Is that your way of making small talk?" She leaned her chin on her hand, grinning at you. "'Where are you from?' How original. What's next? My favorite color?"

You blinked. "It's a normal question..? You can't expect us to be socially good when we get picked on."

"Well, it's a boooring question." She set down her fork, her grin softening into something more genuine. "I'm from everywhere. I've moved around a lot." She tilted her head, her dark eyes studying your face. "Ask me again sometime when you actually want an answer."

Azure frowned. "T-that d-doesn't, er, mak-make sense."

"Good." Naoko winked. "I like keeping people guessing."

She turned to Azure, her tone shifting to something warmer. "So. What do you two do for fun? Besides getting harassed by idiots."

Azure lit up and took his chance to talk about his games — a long, rambling explanation about lore and mechanics and character builds. Naoko listened like she actually cared, asking questions, remembering details, nodding along at the right moments.

She had a way of making people feel heard, you realized.A rare skill.

Across the cafeteria, Luka sat beside Wren.

His tray held the standard cafeteria food — rice, vegetables, some kind of meat — and a small bag of BBQ chips. He hadn't meant to buy the chips. His hand had just reached for them, almost on its own.

He ate one. Then another.

He stared at the bag, turning it over in his hands. He'd never bought BBQ chips before. He'd never bought anything for himself before, not really. Everything he liked, he liked because Wren liked it. His music, his clothes, his food — all borrowed preferences snd tastes.

But Wren had never mentioned BBQ chips.

Luka looked up. Across the room, he could see you — sitting with Azure and that new girl, the transfer student. They were laughing about something, Azure's face bright with a smile you rarely saw.

Luka's jaw tightened.

He didn't know why he cared.

He ate another chip.

They walked out of the cafeteria together, Naoko still talking about the campus layout — which buildings connected where, which shortcuts she'd already discovered, etc. Azure was nodding along, looking more relaxed than he had all day, his hands swinging at his sides.

Then Naoko stopped suddenly.

"Oh. I almost forgot."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded flyer, bright orange paper with bold black text. She handed it to you.

"Ta-da~" she said, spreading her arms like a game show host. "The Men's Volleyball team! Tryouts are this week, I’m the new manager!."

You stared at the flyer, your brow furrowing. "I don't play volleyball."

"You used to. I checked."

You looked up. "You checked?"

"I'm thorough." She didn't explain, just crossed her arms and waited. "You're pretty tall. You have good shoulders. And you clearly need something to do!”

Azure leaned over to look at the flyer, his eyes scanning the text. "V-voll-volleyball, er, s-sounds fun," he offered.

"You should try out too," Naoko said.

Azure immediately shook his head, his curls bouncing. "O-oh! N-no.. I'm n-not athletic."

"Neither is half the team. That's why they're having tryouts." She looked back at you, her gaze steady. "Just think about it, okay?"

You looked up. Naoko was already walking backward, waving.

"See you around, M/N, Azure!"

She turned and disappeared into the crowd, her ponytail swinging behind her.

Azure blinked, staring after her. "Sh-she's pre-pretty badass…"

"Azure! Language!" you teased, reaching over to pinch his cheek. He yelped, swatting at your hand, but he was smiling. You folded the flyer and tucked it into his pocket. "There. Now you have to think about it too."

"Wha— M/N!" Azure's face flushed bright red, his hands flying to his pocket like he wasn't sure whether to guard it or pull the flyer back out.

You chuckled, wrapping your arm around Azure's shoulders and pulling him close. He stiffened for just a moment before relaxing into the touch, his weight leaning slightly against yours. "Where should we head now, Princess?" you asked, your voice light with teasing.

Azure's face somehow got even redder. "D-don't c-call me th-that," he mumbled, but he didn't pull away.

You just laughed and kept walking.

It was now 5:10PM. The paper was creased now from being folded and unfolded multiple times, the edges soft from your fingers tracing over the text. The tryout dates were circled in blue pen — Everyday except Thursday and Weekends, 4PM to 7PM.

Isaac was nearby, wiping the furniture with a soft cloth, his movements slow and methodical. He kept glancing over at you, his grey eyes flicking between your face and the flyer in your hands.

"You're actually considering it?" Isaac asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know yet," you admitted, turning the flyer over in your hands. The back was blank except for a small doodle of a volleyball that someone had drawn in pen.

Isaac set down his cloth and walked over, lowering himself into the armchair across from you. "Naoko," he said slowly. "That's the transfer student?"

"Yeah."

"She's interesting." Isaac picked up a book from the side table and opened it to a marked page, though his eyes kept drifting back to you. "She's very new, yet she's already quite popular. I'd say that's impressive that she made it to be the manager of the Volleyball’s team on her first day.”

You continued to stare at the flyer, your thumb tracing over the practice schedule. Everyday except Thursday and Weekends. 4PM to 7PM. Four days a week. It was a huge commitment.

"Try out," Isaac said simply. "Worst case, you don't make the team." He smiled — a small, gentle thing that softened his usually stoic features. "Best case, you find something you enjoy."

You set the flyer on the table, leaning back into the couch cushions. 

‘Maybe Isaac is right’, you thought, staring at the ceiling. ‘I need something to do for fun. I can't spend all my time here worrying about my life’. You reached over and picked up the flyer again, scanning the practice schedule. 4PM to 7PM.’ Your classes usually ended at 2PM or 3PM, depending on the day. You'd have plenty of time to make it to tryouts.

You remembered, suddenly, that Wren joined the gardening club in the manga. It was one of his early character beats — the kind, gentle soul who loved tending to plants and flowers. His club meetings were on Tuesdays and Thursdays, if you recalled correctly. Afternoons, usually.

Joining something sports-related would definitely help you avoid him. Volleyball practice would be on different days, at different times. You wouldn't have to worry about running into him at club events and having awkward encounters in the greenhouse or the garden beds.

You just hoped the practice schedule overlapped with his club's enough to keep you safely separated.

‘It's worth a shot,’ you thought, folding the flyer one more time and tucking it into your pocket.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed with a message notification, the screen lighting up against the dim evening light of the living room.

You glanced down and saw Azure's name appear.

Azure: r u really going to try out? :O

You smiled slightly, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard before you typed back.

You: Mmm maybe

Azure: I think u should :33 u seem fit for sports hehe ,not that I was staring at ur muscles (o///o)

You stared at the message, your face heating up slightly.  You felt something flutter in your chest that you didn't quite want to examine too closely. 

You typed back slowly, carefully, trying to match his casual energy.

You: Lmao okay, I'll go. I don't mind if you were actually staring

Azure: yayyy :D lemme hit haha jk… unless

You snorted at the message, earning a curious glance from Isaac, who was still reading his book across the room. You waved him off and turned back to your phone.

You: Anyway what about you? Are you joining?

Azure: Nope i don't think i want to sorryyy :< but i can watch ur matches

You: That's nice of you! I don't know if I'd make it to the team though

Azure: im sure u will make it :3 good luck thooo <333

You hearted Azure's message, the little thumbs-up icon appearing beneath his text. 

Then you set your phone down on the armrest and leaned back into the couch cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

‘Now, that project with Takao...’ you sighed, your mind drifting to the chaotic library session. ‘I think him and I are getting along better. Might just be in my head, though. It's not like he owes me kindness just because I saved him from a pile of books.’

But still. He'd bought you iced tea. He'd actually done his share of the project — more than his share, honestly.

It was a strange feeling. But not a bad one either.

You stared at the ceiling a little longer, your thoughts drifting between volleyball tryouts and project deadlines and the unexpected people who might actually be becoming your friends.

Maybe the isekai wouldn't be so bad after all.

‘Should I text Wren?’ The thought crept into your mind unbidden. You frowned at the ceiling, your phone resting on your chest. ‘No, that's silly. I told myself I wouldn't interact with him at all. I made a whole plan. Avoid Wren and Fade into the background.’

But then another thought followed close behind, sharper and more insistent. ‘But I don't want him to spiral like crazy if I keep not acknowledging him’.

You'd seen the look in his eyes at the dorm — the desperate way he'd asked if Luka was the reason you were avoiding him. Wren wasn't used to being ignored. He wasn't used to people pulling away. And you knew, from reading the manga, that Wren didn’t take rejections well since he was also sensitive.

’Maybe’, you thought, chewing on your bottom lip, ‘if I try to set myself on good terms with Luka and tell him I'm no longer interested in Wren, he'd no longer see me as a threat,’ It was a logical plan. Luka's entire obsession stemmed from competition — from the fear that someone else would take Wren away from him.

If you removed yourself from the equation entirely, if you made it clear that you weren't a rival anymore, maybe he'd lose interest in hurting you.

But then you remembered the manga. Takara and Luka had a long-term, violent war — a back-and-forth of sabotage and intimidation that escalated until one of them ended up dead.

You didn't have Takara's desperation, his single-minded devotion, his willingness to fight dirty. You didn't think you could bring yourself to physically fight Luka unless…

‘Unless I do more proper training.’

The thought startled you. Training? Like... fighting training? You barely knew how to throw a punch. You'd spent most of your old life sitting in front of a screen, not learning self-defense. But now you were in Takara's body — taller, stronger, more toned. Maybe you had more potential than you realized.

You suddenly stood up from the couch, the movement so abrupt that Isaac looked up from his book with raised eyebrows. "Crap," you muttered, your eyes wide. "The project."

You'd been so lost in your thoughts about Wren and Luka and potential training regimens that you'd completely forgotten about Takao. You were supposed to meet him to finish the remaining slides. He'd probably be annoyed if you were late — more annoyed than usual, anyway.

You quickly went back to your room and packed up your bag, your hands moving with hurried efficiency. Laptop, notebook, and wallet. You zipped the bag shut and slung it over your shoulder, then headed toward the room door.

Isaac stood up from his armchair, his book forgotten on the side table. "M/N? Where are you going?" His grey eyes were curious, tracking your movements.

"I have to go complete my project with my partner," you said, already reaching for the door handle.

Isaac nodded slowly, his expression softening. "I see. Have fun, M/N."

You gave him a quick nod before heading out the door and breaking into a run down the hallway. Your footsteps echoed against the polished floors, your bag bouncing against your back, your mind already racing ahead to the library and the project and Takao waiting for you there.

You panted as you made your way to the entrance of the library, your chest heaving from the run across campus. The doors slid open and you stepped inside.

"Oh, hello again, M/N!" Ms. Harper called out from behind the front desk, her kind eyes crinkling with a smile.

"Hey, Ms. Harper!" you said, barely slowing down. "Bye!"

You didn't wait for her response. 

The library was quieter than usual this evening — there were only a few students scattered at tables. 

You eyed the rows of shelves as you walked past them, your footsteps quick and urgent against the carpeted floor, before finally spotting a familiar jet-black haired buzzcut head in a familiar spot near the back windows.

Takao was sprawled across his chair like he owned the place, one leg dangling over the armrest, his laptop open in front of him. 

He didn't look up when you approached, just kept typing with one hand while the other rested behind his head.

"Takao!" you called out, "I'm so sorry for being late, I got caught up with—"

"Save the bullshit," Takao interrupted, finally glancing up at you. His expression was unreadable. "I finished your notes."

You blinked, your mouth hanging open mid-apology. "Wait— what?"

Takao laid back over the chair, stretching his arms above his head like a cat waking from a nap. "I arrived here hours before you did," he said, his voice casual, almost bored, "and decided to skim through your notes." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "Turns out you made plenty of mistakes. And as much as I want to be humble to the person who saved my life, I couldn't help but upgrade the notes myself."

Your frown deepened, your brow furrowing. "You could've just told me about them when I got here," you said, dropping your bag onto the floor and sitting down in the seat beside him. The chair creaked under your weight.

"I couldn't help it," Takao said with a shrug, finally turning his laptop screen to face you. "I have a thing with correcting other people's mistakes."

You leaned forward and looked at the screen. Your heart sank. The document was completely different — the phrasing had changed, the structure had been reorganized, whole paragraphs had been rewritten. Your work was still there, technically, but it had been so heavily edited that it barely resembled what you'd written.

"You just completely erased every single trace of my work that I worked hard on!" you said, your voice rising.

"No," Takao said, shaking his head slowly, "I just rewrote what you wrote. I didn't completely erase everything."

"It's not that hard to just help me with them instead," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest.

Takao's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why are you so mad about this?" he asked, tilting his head. "Be grateful that I did something about your mistakes."

You groaned in frustration, running a hand through your hair. The familiar heat of annoyance was building in your chest. 

"I'm mad," you said, your voice tight, "because you're saying all my contributions are inferior and should be ignored. Group work is meant to be a shared effort. When one person dominates, it stops being a partnership and becomes micromanagement."

Takao stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he looked away, his jaw tightening. "You're really dramatic, you know that?" he muttered, but there was less bite in his voice than before.

"And you're really bad at working with other people," you shot back.

Takao didn't respond. He just turned back to his laptop, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. But he didn't start typing. He just sat there, staring at the screen, his reflection ghostly in the dark glass.

The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable.

Then, quietly, Takao said, "I'm not used to this."

You tilted your head. "Used to what?"

"Partnerships." He said the word like it was foreign, like it tasted strange on his tongue. "People just don't usually want to work with me. They just let me do everything and take the credit."

You were quiet for a moment, processing his words. Then you sighed, your shoulders sagging. "Well, I'm not most people," you said. "I actually want to do my share."

Takao glanced at you from the corner of his eye. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm starting to see that."

"Tch. Whatever, screw all that sappy shit," Takao muttered, reaching into his bag and pulling out a cold bottle. He tossed it across the table, and you barely caught it before it rolled off the edge. "Here's your iced tea."

"Oh, thank you," you said, wrapping your fingers around the cool plastic. "You didn't have t—"

"I've already dealt with this lecture," Takao cut you off, waving his hand dismissively. "Just drink up."

"Alright…" You unscrewed the cap and took a sip, the sweet tea cold against your tongue.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, exactly — more like a waiting silence. You tapped your fingers against the bottle, thinking.

"So," you said finally, "if we're done, what now?"

Takao shrugged, leaning back in his chair until it balanced on two legs. "Let's just hang out here for now."

"Hang out?" You raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean to you?"

Takao's dark blue eyes side-eyed you, sharp and suspicious. "Excuse me?"

"Do you mean hang out as in committing a crime together? Or—"

"Oi, are you fucking serious?" Takao's chair dropped back to all four legs with a loud thunk.

"Okay, my bad," you said quickly, holding up your hands. "That was insensitive of me to say."

Takao shrugged, his expression relaxing slightly. "Whatever."

You studied him for a moment — the sharp line of his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes, the way his buzzcut was starting to grow out just a little at the edges. "Have you ever thought about giving your hair a fresh cut?" you asked. "Or are you planning to grow them out?"

"I like it this way," Takao said, reaching up to touch the back of his head absentmindedly. "I ain't planning to grow them out. Doesn't help in fights."

"Okay, so when you talk about violence it's okay," you said, pointing your iced tea bottle at him, "but when I do it's the end of the world?"

"Exactly." Takao's smirk returned, brief but genuine.

"Speaking of violence," you said, leaning forward, "where did you learn to train for fighting?"

Takao's smirk faded. He looked at you for a long moment, his dark blue eyes unreadable. "Oi what the hell are ya up to?"

"Nothing, nothing!" you said quickly. "I'm thinking about focusing on sports and training. I'm attending the volleyball tryout tomorrow."

Takao hummed, his gaze drifting to the window. The evening light caught his profile, softening the hard edges of his face. "I didn't really have a choice to train," he said quietly. "Happened at a young age. By my dad."

"Oh," you said, your voice softer now. "That's kinda sad."

Takao shrugged, but there was something tight in his shoulders. "It did help me in the long run, anyway."

You were quiet for a moment, watching the way his fingers tapped against the table — restless, rhythmic, like a heartbeat. "I like your heart ear piercing," you said.

Takao's hand flew to his ear, covering the small silver stud like he'd forgotten it was there. "What are you, analyzing me now?!"

Your eyes were glued on his face, taking in the faint flush creeping up his neck. "Have you ever thought of living a different type of life?" you asked.

Takao hesitated. His hand dropped from his ear, and he stared at the table, his jaw working silently. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "All the time." He paused, swallowing hard. "I couldn't afford to change it either way, so imagination was my escape."

The words hung in the air between you. You didn't know what to say to that — you didn't know if there was anything to say. So you just sat there, sipping your iced tea, and let the silence linger.

"hey.. about that bookshelf incident-" Takao started, his voice lower than usual, almost hesitant. 

He was leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his dark blue eyes fixed on something just over your shoulder. You could tell he was working up to something he didn't quite know how to say.

"Oh my goodness, M/N!" Naoko gasped as she walked up to your table, her ponytail swinging behind her and a stack of books clutched against her chest. "Funny seeing you here!"

You blinked up at her, startled by her sudden appearance. "Naoko? What are you—"

"I volunteered to help organize the library for today!" she announced, setting her stack down on the edge of the table with a soft thud. "Calming down my nerves for tryouts tomorrow." She pressed a hand to her chest and let out a dramatic breath.

"Oh, good for you," you said, nodding.

"What about you?" Naoko's eyes darted between you and Takao, her gaze sharp and curious.

You gestured vaguely at the laptop and scattered notes on the table. "I, uh, was here for my project, but turns out this fella, Takao, did the work for me." You reached over and ruffled Takao's head, your fingers brushing against the short bristles of his buzzcut.

Takao slapped your hand away with a scowl, his dark blue eyes flashing. "Don't touch me."

Naoko raised her brows at Takao, her smirk growing. "So it's just the two of you here?" She tilted her head,. "Alone?"

Takao stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor. "Oi! What does that mean?"

Naoko giggled, pressing a finger to her lips. "Inside voices only," she whispered, her eyes wide with mock seriousness.

Takao rolled his eyes so hard his whole head moved. "Don't you have volunteering work to do?"

"I did," Naoko said, crossing her arms, "but then I saw my great friend M/N here!" She grinned teasingly. "No need to get so territorial. He's all yours."

"Oi—" Takao lunged toward her, his fists clenching, but you were faster. You grabbed him by the shoulders and held him back, your arms locked around his chest.

"Sh!" you hissed, your face close to his ear.

Takao froze. His chest was heaving beneath your arms, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. His dark blue eyes locked onto yours, wide and startled, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the rapid thrum of his heartbeat through his back. Then, slowly, he relaxed — just slightly, just enough for you to feel the tension drain from his shoulders.

Naoko watched the whole thing with a knowing smile, her head tilted like a curious bird. "You two are cute," she said softly.

"Shut up," Takao and you said at the same time.

Naoko giggled, her laughter bright and genuine, before she cleared her throat and straightened her posture. She looked straight at you, her dark eyes sparkling. "So, M/N! Are you excited for the volleyball tryouts tomorrow?" She pointed a finger at your chest. "Don't forget — it starts at 4PM. Don't ditch out on us!"

You sighed, releasing Takao and stepping back. "I said I'd think about it."

"Thinking time is over!" Naoko declared. "You're going. End of discussion."

"You can't just—"

"Yes, I can." She picked up her stack of books and turned on her heel, already walking away. "See you tomorrow, M/N! And nice to meet you, Takao!" she called over her shoulder, not waiting for a response.

Takao stood there, his jaw tight, his ears red. He didn't look at you. "That girl is annoying," he muttered.

You snorted, “In a charming way.”

Wren had his face completely covered by an opened book, the pages pressed close to his nose like a shield, as he slowly crept through the library.

He moved with exaggerated caution, his footsteps barely audible against the carpeted floor, weaving between shelves and pretending to blend in like he belonged there.

The book's title — something about marine biology — meant nothing to him. It was just a disguise, a way to avoid being recognized as he made his way toward the nearby bookshelves where he'd spotted you sitting.

To his surprise, he heard a laugh. Not yours — a feminine voice, bright and teasing, cutting through the quiet hum of the library. "So, M/N! Are you excited for the volleyball tryouts tomorrow?"

Wren froze mid-step, his book lowering just an inch. Volleyball club? Since when were you interested in sports? In all the years he'd known you — or rather, known Takara — you'd never once mentioned athletics. 

You'd been too focused on him, too wrapped up in your obsession to develop hobbies of your own. The thought of you running, jumping, sweating on a court felt... wrong. Like an image that didn't fit.

"Don't forget — it starts at 4PM. Don't ditch out on us!" the girl continued.

4PM, Wren thought, his mind latching onto the time like a hook. He stood there behind the shelf, book still raised, his heart beating a little faster. Then, slowly, an idea began to form.