LenaMiu (one shots compilations)

Schuett

Lena noticed it during third period, while the classroom hummed with the lazy noise of half-asleep students and scratching pens.

Miu Natasha Schuett.

Lena blinked.

She leaned closer, pretending to borrow an eraser, but really just to look again. There it was, written neatly at the top of Miu's notebook, the last name unmistakable. Her last name.

"Since when did you change your surname?" Lena whispered.

Miu didn't look up. Her pen paused for only a fraction of a second before continuing to move. "Hmm?"

"Don't 'hmm' me," Lena said, pointing. "You wrote Schuett again."

Miu finally turned, eyes bright and innocent, lips curling into that familiar teasing smile. "It looks good on me, doesn't it?"

Lena scoffed and leaned back in her chair. "You're so weird."

But something twisted quietly in her chest.

⸻

It wasn't the first time.

On worksheets. On library sign-in sheets. Even once, embarrassingly, on a mock wedding certificate during a group activity in Values Ed.

Miu Natasha Schuett.

Each time, Miu would just laugh it off.

"I'm practicing," she'd say.

"For what?" Lena had asked once.

Miu's answer had been light, almost careless. "For when I'm Mrs. Schuett someday."

That was when Lena stopped laughing.

⸻

That afternoon, Lena walked home with her hands buried in her pockets, mind racing. Her house came into view—the same house Miu had been visiting since they were kids, the same house where her Mom, and big brother lived.

Oh.

The thought hit her like cold water.

So that's it.

That night at dinner, Lena watched her brother more closely than she ever had before. The way he talked. The way he smiled. The way he casually mentioned Miu had borrowed a book from him last week.

Her chest tightened.

Later, alone in her room, Lena stared at the ceiling and felt something she didn't want to name.

Jealousy.

Disappointment.

Maybe heartbreak, though she didn't know why it hurt this much.

Of course she'd like him, Lena told herself.

⸻

The distance started small.

Lena stopped walking Miu home. She replied slower to messages. Her laughter didn't come as easily anymore, like something inside her had gone quiet.

Miu noticed. Of course she did.

One afternoon, just as the final bell rang, Miu caught her by the lockers. The hallway buzzed with voices and slamming metal doors, but her voice cut through it all.

"Okay," Miu said, arms crossed, trying to sound firm. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Lena answered too fast, already turning away.

"Lena."

That tone—soft, hurt, familiar. The one that always made Lena stop.

She exhaled sharply, then reached out, grabbing the notebook from Miu's hands before she could react. The page was already open.

Miu Natasha — Mrs. Schuett.

Lena tore it out.

The sound of ripping paper was loud, final.

"Stop this," Lena said, her voice shaking despite herself.

Miu froze. Her eyes widened as she looked at the torn page crumpled in Lena's fist. "Why?" she asked quietly.

"Because it's... misleading," Lena muttered, refusing to meet her gaze. "And kind of unfair."

"To who?" Miu asked, her voice thinner now.

"To me," Lena snapped—and immediately regretted it.

The noise of the hallway faded. Miu went very still, like she'd been struck.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Lena swallowed hard. "I know you like my brother."

For a moment, there was nothing. No sound. No laughter.

Then Miu let out a short, broken laugh—not teasing, not amused. Disbelieving. Hurt.

"What?" Her voice cracked. "No. God, no."

Lena finally looked at her. "You literally said you wanted to be Mrs. Schuett."

Miu's lips trembled. "Yes," she said softly, taking a step closer. Her eyes were glossy now. "I did."

"Then—"

"But not him."

The words came out uneven, like they cost her something.

Miu clenched her hands at her sides, breathing unsteady. "Do you know how hard it is," she said, voice wavering, "to like someone so much and watch them pull away without knowing why?"

Lena's chest tightened.

"I write that name because it's yours," Miu continued, tears threatening to spill. "Because when I imagine the future, it's always you next to me. Because I didn't know how to say it without ruining everything."

A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away angrily, forcing a small, fragile smile. "I thought... maybe if I joked about it enough, you'd understand."

Lena's heart pounded painfully. "You... like me?"

Miu laughed softly through her tears. "I've liked you since we were thirteen," she admitted. "I just didn't think you'd ever see me that way. You always assume I want someone else."

Lena's vision blurred. "I thought I wasn't... an option."

Miu stepped closer, close enough that Lena could feel her warmth. "You're the only one," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

And for the first time in weeks, the distance between them finally disappeared.

⸻

That night, Lena lay awake replaying the moment over and over.

The next day, during third period, Lena reached over, took Miu's pen, and wrote something of her own on the corner of the page.

Lin Marie Schuett.

Miu looked at it, then at her, eyes wide.

"Who is that?" There is immediate jealousy in her tone.

"Well," Lena said, cheeks burning. "Our future daughter, our first born."

Miu grinned—bright, breathless, unmistakably in love.

And this time, Lena cheeks burning wrote some more... Miu just watched her doodle something.

"Hmm..." Lena gave her the piece of paper.

Miu stupidly smiling from ear to ear as she reads...

'I love you, Mrs. Schuett.'