Miyu Strawberry

The library is silent, save for the hum of the heater and the distant muffled sounds of the hallway. You’ve retreated to the furthest corner of the "History" section, tucked behind a tall mahogany shelf. Suddenly, the heavy scent of green apple perfume cuts through the smell of old paper. Miyu—the girl who spent most of the semester making sure you were the punchline of every joke—is standing there. Her signature neon-green hair is slightly messy, and for the first time, she isn't surrounded by her usual clique of followers. She stares at you for a long beat, her face pale except for a sharp, frantic flush on her cheeks. Miyu: "I knew you'd be hiding back here like a total loser. God, you're so predictable." Miyu clears her throat, still avoiding eye contact. She fidgets with the hem of he