The sun was too bright. The field too loud. And Kaito hated everything about Sports Day.
He didn't like running in front of people, didn't like the forced cheer or the fake team spirit. But he'd signed up months ago—some dumb part of him wanting to push himself—so now he was standing on the track, sweat already sticking to his neck, waiting for the relay baton.
Ren was in the crowd somewhere. Kaito hadn't seen him since the start of the day. But he felt him.
That weird, steady awareness. Like gravity.
Then his teammate sprinted toward him, hand outstretched.
Kaito took the baton.
And ran.
For a moment, he forgot everything. The noise faded. His lungs burned in the best way. He was almost—almost—at the handoff when his foot clipped the corner of the track.
And everything went sideways.
Literally.
He hit the ground hard. The baton bounced away. Someone yelled his name.
Pain bloomed in his ankle like a lightning bolt.
The nurse's office smelled like antiseptic and old fabric. Kaito sat on the bed with an ice pack pressed to his ankle, wincing as the nurse muttered about "teenagers who think they're invincible."
When the door slid open, Kaito expected the nurse to return.
It was Ren.
He didn't say anything. Just stepped inside, closed the door, and crossed the room in three long strides.
"You look like hell," Ren said quietly.
"You keep saying that," Kaito muttered.
Ren sat on the chair beside the bed. His voice dropped. "You scared me."
Kaito looked down. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You limped off the field and didn't even look at me."
Kaito blinked. "You were watching?"
"Of course I was watching," Ren said, and it came out sharp—too honest. "I watch you all the time."
Silence fell like a pin.
Kaito's heart beat painfully loud in the quiet.
"I meant to talk to you sooner," Ren said. "About us. About… what we're doing."
"Yeah," Kaito said softly. "Me too."
Ren exhaled and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I don't want to keep pretending we're something vague."
Kaito met his eyes. "Then what are we?"
Ren swallowed. "You tell me."
Kaito hesitated. The truth pressed against his chest like it wanted out.
"I like you," he said. "Not in a 'maybe' way. In a 'when you look at me I can't breathe' kind of way."
Ren looked stunned. Then slowly—like a thaw—he smiled. "Good."
Kaito blinked. "That's it? 'Good'?"
"Well," Ren said, standing and sitting beside him on the bed, "I like you too. In a 'don't ever disappear on me again' kind of way."
Kaito laughed softly, and it turned into something tender when Ren leaned in.
And kissed him.
This one was different.
Not a fever-dazed moment. Not a question.
This was an answer.
They didn't hear the soft creak of the door.
Didn't see the shape of someone—classmate, maybe from their homeroom—step back from the doorway, eyes wide.
Didn't know yet that whispers had already begun outside the nurse's office.
But for now, wrapped in that quiet, Kaito rested his head against Ren's shoulder.
"I guess we're really doing this," he murmured.
Ren laced their fingers together.
"Yeah," he said. "We are."