Chapter 9: Hoodies and Hideouts
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The house was unusually quiet.
It was the kind of quiet that didn’t sit right—like the calm before one of Mei’s chaotic "group bonding games" or before Elira tried to cook again. I had twenty seconds of peace before someone asked me to join a dance-off, clean a hallway I hadn’t walked through, or explain why I still hadn’t worn the hoodie Sora borrowed last week.
That last part? Actually why I was creeping around upstairs now.
I needed that hoodie. Not just because it was mine (and, okay, it smelled like me), but because it was comfortable. And I missed it. I’d seen Sora wearing it two days ago, casually strolling through the hall like she didn’t just hijack my favorite piece of clothing and make it look ten times better.
So I knocked on her door.
Once.
Twice.
Silence.
I even leaned in a little, ear to the door. No music, no humming, no robotic death alarms from her AI project.
"Probably out back with the others," I muttered, turning the knob slowly.
Just a peek. In, out. Grab the hoodie. Easy.
The room was clean in that Sora-clean kind of way—tech scattered around in tidy clusters, plush pillows stacked like some kind of fortress on her bed. And there it was: my hoodie. Draped over the arm of her desk chair like a sleeping pet.
I tiptoed in, grabbed the hoodie, and was halfway to the door when I heard a soft click behind me.
Bathroom door.
She was still here.
Panicked instincts kicked in. I dove for the nearest hiding spot—the open sliding wardrobe—and eased the door shut just as she stepped into the room, her wet hair dripping against her shoulders, towel wrapped tightly, humming some upbeat tune I couldn’t place.
I swallowed.
Great. Perfect. Just my luck. Trapped in a wardrobe like some closet gremlin.
System Update:
> Stealth Level 0. Idiot Level 100.
You are now hiding in a girl’s room without permission.
Proceed with shame.
I was going to wait it out. Five minutes, tops. She’d get dressed, leave, and I’d sneak out like this never happened.
Except she didn’t leave.
She sat on the bed.
Then pulled out her skincare kit. One by one. Mirror. Bottle. Cotton pad. I watched through the tiny gap in the wardrobe like I was the weirdest NatGeo documentary ever filmed.
She dabbed. Blotted. Hummed again.
Why is this taking so long?!
I tried not to breathe too loud. Tried not to exist too loud.
Just when I thought I’d be free, another knock came.
"Hey Sora, you decent?" It was Elira.
"Yeah, come in!"
NO.
Elira strolled in, holding two mugs. "I made that herbal blend you like. Figured you could use some after the spar."
Sora brightened. "You’re the best. My shoulders are still sore."
They started chatting. About training, about hair products, about whether the cute guy in town was really cute or just well-lit. I was stuck between the scent of laundry detergent and a stack of winter scarves, praying the walls would swallow me whole.
Minutes passed.
Fifteen. Then twenty.
I shifted slightly, trying not to fall asleep standing.
Elira flopped on the bed. "Do you think Ren’s weird?"
Nope. Nope. Not the topic. Pick another.
Sora laughed. "Weird? Sometimes. But kind of... charming weird."
Elira tilted her head. "He never makes a move. Even when we practically hand him an invitation."
Sora looked down into her tea. "Maybe he doesn’t want to. Maybe... he’s just scared."
"Of what?"
"Of messing it up."
They both went quiet.
I felt my chest tighten. Maybe they were right. Maybe I’d been too careful, too quiet, too avoidy lately. But how could I not be, with four girls all orbiting my existence and one wrong smile turning into an emotional avalanche?
Still... hearing them talk like that. Honestly. Softly. It made me feel things I didn’t know how to name.
> System Update: Emotional resonance detected. Passive affection levels stable. You’re not invisible. You’re avoiding visibility.
Eventually, Elira stood and stretched. "Alright, I’m heading down. You coming?"
"In a bit."
As the door closed behind her, Sora finally stood. She glanced toward the wardrobe for a split second, then shook her head and walked over to her desk, tying up her damp hair.
I didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
Maybe she hadn’t noticed.
Maybe I could sneak out in five minutes. Maybe—just maybe—I wouldn’t die of secondhand embarrassment today.
But knowing this house, I was probably wrong.
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"Okay, I know you’re in there."
I froze. Every muscle in my body turned to static.
I considered playing dumb. Pretend I was a very stylish ghost haunting only soft cotton. Or maybe I could stay perfectly still and become one with the jackets.
But the door slid open with a smooth shhhk.
Sora stood in front of me, arms folded, lips tilted somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Her eyes dropped to the hoodie clenched in my hand.
"Seriously?"
I blinked. "I was... recovering my property."
"In my closet?"
"You stole it."
"I borrowed it."
"For three days."
She stepped aside, motioning to the open room. "Well? Come out, little raccoon."
I shuffled out slowly, like a prisoner surrendering at dawn. "You weren’t supposed to be back so soon."
"I live here, Ren."
"Technicality."
She gave me a look. Not angry. Not even annoyed, really. Just... amused. Curious. The kind of expression that made it hard to tell if she wanted to laugh or shove me out the window.
"You were in there the whole time Elira was here?"
"Yes."
"Did you hear—"
"Everything."
Sora’s entire face flushed.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, and for a moment, I thought she was going to punch me.
But instead, she dropped onto the bed and buried her face in a pillow.
"This is so embarrassing."
I stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, still clutching the hoodie like a security blanket. "For you? I’ve been in a closet for twenty minutes rethinking my life."
"You heard me say I’d melt."
"You did. It was poetic."
Sora groaned into the pillow.
Silence stretched between us.
Not uncomfortable.
Not anymore.
I walked over and sat at the edge of the bed, careful not to get too close. "For the record... I might’ve melted a little too. Just hearing that."
Her head turned, one eye peeking out from behind the pillow. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I shrugged, a little sheepish. "Guess we’re both terrible at this whole feelings thing."
She pulled the pillow away and sat up, cross-legged. "So what now?"
"I give you back the hoodie." I held it up like a peace offering.
She stared at it for a second, then tugged it from my grip and tossed it aside. "Nope. You lost your claim. It’s mine now."
"Unbelievable."
"You snooze, you wardrobe."
I laughed. "That’s not even—okay, that was kind of good."
Her smile softened.
Something about the way the light hit her face in that moment made it hard to look away.
"I meant what I said," she said quietly. "About trying to figure things out."
"Me too."
More silence.
But this time, it was full. Electric.
I stood. "I should go before Elira comes back and thinks I was hiding in here for... other reasons."
Sora nodded. "Yeah. Good idea."
But as I turned for the door, she called out.
"Ren?"
I looked back.
She was holding the hoodie in both hands now, fingers curling into the sleeves.
"Next time... just ask."
I smiled. "Next time, I will."
As the door clicked shut behind me, my heart felt like it was beating just a little too fast.
And for once, I didn’t mind at all.
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