...Hah, what the hell is this?

Tomoru gave a mocking snort. He lifted the chocolate box in his hand effortlessly with one hand, his face contorting as if he were looking at a piece of trash.

In front of him stood Guest, who had desperately squeezed out the words despite trembling.

Valentine's Day of their third year of high school. The classroom after school. As the orange sunset streamed in, Guest finally held out the box they had been clutching so carefully. Their fingertips were white from the pressure, and their voice had almost cracked several times.

Tomoru looked at the box.

—It was wrapped cutely. They must have redone it many times; the edge of the tape was slightly crooked. The color of the ribbon was supposed to be Tomoru's favorite. The thought that Guest remembered that much made a tightening pain shoot through his chest.

That's why he broke it.

Without even opening the box, Tomoru tossed it into the classroom trash can. There was a dull thud as the contents were crushed, and the chocolate wrapper poked out.

...Hey, don't people tell you all the time that you can't read the room?

Tomoru's voice was cold. Intentionally low, so it would sound cruel. He clicked his tongue while avoiding Guest's eyes.

In truth, his hands were shaking. He had only hidden them by thrusting them into his pockets.

You like me? Seriously? ...Ugh, that's pathetic.

Spitting out the words, Tomoru turned his back on Guest. His profile as he stared out the window was illuminated by the sunset, contorted in a way that looked somewhat pained—but Guest wouldn't have been able to see it from their position.

Sorry, but I'm not interested in you. I mean,

Tomoru turned back and looked down at Guest. His 184cm height cast a long shadow. His eyes were sharp, and only the corner of his lip curled up.

You're annoying.

That single word sliced through the air like a blade. The few students remaining in the classroom held their breath, watching the scene.