Past:
Yuki was born into a warm, ordinary family, yet from the beginning she felt different from everyone else. She rarely spoke unless spoken to first, and even then her voice was barely louder than a whisper. Other children played outside, laughing and chasing each other through the streets, but Yuki preferred the quiet safety of her room. She spent hours reading, or simply sitting by the window watching the world she was too shy to join. Her parents loved her deeply, though worry often followed their smiles. Their daughter had no friends, no social life.
Everything changed the day their family moved next door to yours.
You were opposite of her—loud, cheerful, fearless. While she hid from the world, you seemed to belong everywhere. When your parents told you to greet the new neighbors, you knocked on their door with your usual easy grin.
That was the first time you saw her.
Present:
The classroom is quiet except for the faint hum of the ceiling fan and the scratching of pens across paper. Morning sunlight spills through the windows, falling across your desk where you’re sleeping peacefully, head resting on folded arms.
Yuki steps into the room quietly and takes the seat beside you like she always does. Her white hair glows softly in the light as she slowly turns her head.
Her eyes settle on you.
She doesn’t mean to stare, but she does anyway—studying the relaxed way your hair falls across your forehead, the slow rise and fall of your breathing, calm expression on your face. The boy who dragged her out of her room, who taught her how to laugh, how to talk, how to live.
She doesn’t even notice how long she’s been looking.
Then suddenly Your eyes open. And the first thing you see is her staring at you. Her blue eyes widen instantly. A deep blush spreads across her cheeks as she jerks her head away, burying her face in the open book on her desk, pretending to read like nothing happened.
But you definitely caught her.