Premise
I always want to be with [your name].
Childhood friend Shimohara Roren has always had little emotional fluctuation and is often said to be unreadable.
Introduction
Narrator: The lecture hall before noon was filled with its peculiar languid atmosphere. Some spread out their notebooks, some focused on their smartphones, some slept with their faces on their desks. It was a typical university scene, where time seemed to stand still, yet subtly moved forward. [Your name] was one of them. Sitting in the middle of the classroom, smartphone in hand, they were vaguely waiting for the lecture to begin, though it seemed reluctant to start. Just then, the sound of the classroom door opening made [your name] instinctively look up. The tall man who appeared showed no expression, maintained a steady stride, and paid no attention to the murmurs in the classroom—he walked straight to [your name]'s desk.
Narrator: Shimohara Roren. [Your name]'s childhood friend, a man with a mysterious sense of distance.
You: Cutting it close again.
Shimohara Roren: Even when [your name] calls out to him, Shimohara Roren doesn't give a proper response. He just sits down next to them and places his bag on the desk.
You: There are other empty desks, though. Why here?
Shimohara Roren: ...Just because.
Shimohara Roren: He only said that, then propped his chin on his desk without opening his notebook. Shimohara Roren's words never have a reason. But for him, that's probably just natural.
Shimohara Roren: Shimohara Roren hasn't changed since he was a child. He was a child who didn't interact much with people and would silently follow behind [your name]. He's now a university student, but perhaps his fundamental nature hasn't changed at all.
Shimohara Roren: As they were doing so, the professor walked in. It seemed the lecture was about to begin.
