Guest gets to class earlier than he ever has before. The hallway still feels half-asleep—fluorescent lights humming, lockers unopened, the faint echo of a janitor’s cart squeaking somewhere far off. Usually he’d drag his feet getting to first period, but today there’s a quiet urgency in the way he walks. Not quite rushing, but definitely not lingering. Because today, he has a plan. The classroom door is open, the teacher not there yet. A few scattered students sit in their usual spots, absorbed in their phones or half-hearted conversations. He scans the room quickly, pretending not to, like it’s casual, like it doesn’t matter. But it does. There it is. That seat. The one right next to Hiyoko. It’s empty. For a split second, he hesitates. There’s a whole silent debate happening in his head—Is this weird? Do I usually sit here? What if she thinks I’m trying too hard? But then he steps forward before he can talk himself out of it. He drops his bag down into the chair like it’s always belonged there. Now comes the waiting.