Like a dream, because he was no longer there. Well, it wasn't as if he was often there in the first place. But now that she had seen him, now that she had spoken to him, his absence felt heavier than before.
Since that unexpected encounter at the library, a shadow had crept into Miaro's daily life. Every morning, as she passed through the grand school gates, she searched in vain for a sign—or perhaps a silhouette—amidst the students rushing to their respective classes. Miaro loved the library. She often spent time there, but lately, she found herself going almost every day. Yet, she barely read anything. Her eyes were constantly fixed on the door. And that wasn't all. Miaro used to return to class immediately after buying her snack during recess—to review, finish an assignment, or simply avoid people. But these days, she took her time. She scanned each classroom as if she were a detective, even going so far as to visit her friends from other grades.
— "So, Miaro, I'm particularly happy about your visit. I didn't know I meant that much to you."
— "Ah… of course, you mean a lot to me."
— "Oh really…? Then, what brings you here?"
But Miaro's classmate, who also happens to be her friend, interrupts:
— "Talk to her about Rija. Ever since they met, she's changed quite a bit."
— (Miaro, bewildered) "W-what? I didn't even know he was in this class."
— "Ouch, that hurts. Everyone knows I represent Class 2-5, after all," Rija interjects, appearing behind them without them noticing.
— "Sorry, I… I really didn't know."
— "No worries, these things happen. I just hope that from now on, we can visit each other from time to time."
Then, Miaro's friend from another grade joins in:
— "Why don't you come with us on December 20th?"
— "… That's still two months away. What's happening then?" Miaro wonders.
— "Miaro, did you forget Santatra's birthday?"
— "… Ah, right. It's her birthday."
— "All you have to do, Rija, is pretend to be my boyfriend. Santatra's birthday is always the biggest party of the year."
— "I'd love to play Miaro's fake boyfriend."
— "Don't bother insisting. Miaro never dates anyone."
— "Is that true, Miaro?" Rija asks.
— "Ah… I need to get back to class. It's always nice seeing you, Hantsa," Miaro says as she walks away.
— "See? She's just ignoring you. She's playing the snob again."
— "Eh… Hantsa. I don't get the feeling you're talking about a friend."
— "That's just how it is between girls. What can I say? I hate her. She always acts like she's perfect, and my parents constantly compare me to her," Hantsa says with a melancholic air. Then, with the same tone, she lightly fixes her gaze on Rija.
— "She has everything, that's true, but what I hate the most is that she always steals my guys."
She follows that last sentence with a slight smile, tilting her head slightly. But Rija pretends not to notice her advances and simply replies:
— "Just give me your contact info, I'll reach out when the time comes…"
And they continue their conversation.
But let's get back to our heroine.
As she enters the classroom, Miaro is exhausted. For days now, she has been roaming through all the sophomore classes. She's even visited every school club. But nothing. She doesn't seem to find what she's looking for.
And at that moment, a truly profound question strikes her: "What am I looking for?"
You and I, we know the answer because we see things from a different perspective. But what Miaro feels is different. To her, all of this is just an intuition, a feeling. Her heart is guiding her. It's making her waltz through the courtyard, through the classrooms. She doesn't understand anything anymore, but if she can't hear her heart beating in the middle of the void, she can feel the void piercing through her heart instead… Yes, she feels nothing when she's in class, yet outside, she feels everything—things she doesn't even understand. It's chaos in her head, and she doesn't know what she's doing. At least…
Until…
Tsiaro, the class representative who sits right in front of her, is talking to a girl who isn't from their class. Miaro, her mind completely blank, unintentionally overhears their conversation.
— "Seriously…?"
— "He's pretty thin. And he's got big dark circles under his eyes. So, I'd say it's quite possible."
Then, Miaro suddenly remembers someone who is thin and has prominent dark circles under his eyes. Without even realizing it, she inserts herself into the conversation.
— "Excuse me. Aren't you talking about Haintso?"
The two girls look surprised. And they have every reason to be. Miaro is the most popular girl in school, while Haintso, according to these two class representatives, is the least noticeable student—so much so that even they struggle to remember him.
— "I think I have a better question for you. Miaro, right?" (Miaro nods.) "How do you even know Haintso?"
Miaro averts her gaze timidly, unsure herself how a boy she only spoke to once could somehow become part of her world. But when she thinks about it—his deep way of analyzing things… that intense gaze of his… Maybe he's closer than anyone realizes. Even if that conclusion comes from a dream, an illusion she's built in her mind.
So, she answers:
— "We met at the library. I love the way he looks… things."
Now, Tsiaro's friend looks even more shocked than before.
— "Haintso goes to the library?"
— "…Yes ?!?!"
— "Whatever. I was just thinking… since he already struggles to attend classes, then for the library… Anyway, he's a tough guy to approach."
— "Yet, he seemed friendly with me."
The two girls burst into laughter. They laugh so hard that Miaro gets a little scared. Then, Tsiaro speaks up:
— "That's because you're Miaro. Even angels would kill God just to exchange a few words with you."
Miaro feels even more bewildered than before.
— "Uh… Watch what you're saying."
— "But she's so beautiful…"
— "And smart, and we all know the rest. But you're making her nervous."
— "Sorry, Miaro. I only said that because you need to be careful with guys. It might be sad, but most of the guys I know see you as the ultimate trophy to win. And that guy, that Haintso… from what I hear, he really sounds like a delinquent."
— "Yeah, there's something about him that's really off-putting. But since he's so easy to forget, people just ignore him."
Then why… ?
Miaro wonders.
I don't know about you, but spring is my favorite season.
In the morning, spring awakens like a warm caress on skin still shivering from winter's touch. Dew, clinging to blades of grass, bursts into pearls under the first rays of sunlight, while a gentle breeze brushes against the shy petals of flowers still drowsy from the night. The air is crisp, filled with the murmur of streams swollen with melted snow and the tentative song of a lone blackbird daring to break the silence.
At noon, the world opens up. The sky, vast and tender, stretches its blue arms over the reborn earth. The trees, eager, reach their young leaves toward the light, while the sweet scent of early blossoms dances under the noses of passersby. In the grass, carefreeness sprawls—children run, laughter bursts like impatient buds, and even the warmer wind seems to smile as it plays in their hair.
The afternoon lingers lazily. The sun, weary from its midday passion, drapes itself in a golden haze of gentle idleness. The shadows of leaves trace shifting labyrinths on the paths, and insects, drunk on light, buzz in a frenzied ballet. It is the hour when time slows, when bodies recline under a honey-colored sky, when hearts beat more softly, cradled by the sweetness of the moment.
Then comes the evening, a promise of gold and crimson setting the horizon ablaze. The weary petals fold in, the birdsong fades, and the air carries the damp perfume of earth and withered flowers. The wind, now subdued, slips between the branches like a sigh. In the sky, the first stars pierce the twilight, and spring, in a final shiver, surrenders itself into the embrace of the night.
Ah… It is 5:42 PM in Miaro's room. From her window, she watches the sky shift from a deep crimson in the west to a soft violet-blue in the east. The gentle breeze cools her skin, just as it clears her thoughts. Miaro, too, is a lover of nature. She has read and admired this kind of scene hundreds of times in books. Yet, only today does she realize that these wonders have been right before her eyes all along.
Why this sudden realization?
The reason is simple. Miaro's daily life is a series of personal development routines: doing homework, revising, learning new subjects… But today, she puts all of that aside to focus on the one question that's been weighing on her mind for a while: "Why?" Since she struggles to find the answer within her, she searches for it outside her window. And she finds the beauty of spring. Or at least, what remains of it since it's already late November. She smiles. She mocks the ridiculous contrast between her maturity and the confusion in her mind that prevents her from being productive. All this time, she believed she was aware of the world, yet she's only just now noticing the beauty of spring. As if her gaze had been too busy elsewhere. As if… something, or rather someone, had slipped between her and reality, distorting her perception…
It's just that now her mind refuses emptiness. It's there, in a corner of her imagination, blurry yet always present. This boy, this enigma, this wandering mirage. He's nothing extraordinary, and yet...
Haintso, he is the shadow in motion within the light of day. His figure, slender and graceful, seems to be drawn in ink by the pen of a discreet artist. His skin, of a rich and nuanced tone, evokes the softness of velvet caressed by the light of dusk, inviting contemplation without ever imposing its brilliance. His hair, storm-dark, short but slightly disordered, seems to absorb the light rather than reflect it.
And his eyes… Those damn eyes.
A chasm. Two unfathomable wells bordered by dark circles, eyes that are fixed but lack the gleam of those who laugh or the softness of those who dream. He looks, but he doesn't see like others. His gaze doesn't skim, it pierces. He dissects effortlessly, without passion. As if he had understood everything, and nothing truly interests him anymore. This must explain why, when he speaks, every word that escapes has its own essence. The lightness of his tone bears no relation to the grandeur and depth of what he means. For Miaro and Miaro alone, Haintso is a fragile balance between illusion and reality. Why can't she just open her eyes and ignore him like everyone else has already done?
Deep down, she knows what's happening, but she just wants to tire of it. None of this makes sense. She counts the stars for a moment, then immerses herself back into her notebooks.
And I don't know about you, but I find that really sad. You'd probably lie if you said you've never felt some sort of attraction to someone you've only met two or three times. But often, like Miaro, we refuse the magic. And from my point of view, that's pretty much why Generation Z is dead inside. We can't let any embarrassment or mockery slide by without letting it affect us. If we look at things differently, we could say it's amusing. Life, youth, isn't just about working the fuck your ass to death (sorry for the language) until you drop. Argh... that's not exciting. And it's not fun. I'll tell you this: "Let's dream. Let's be crazy. Let's love, for crying out loud..."