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8 AM
Nakamura power walked along the sidewalk, each step strong enough to shake the dust on the ground. He woke up a bit later than usual and needed to make up for lost time. Breaking his typically predictable routine is annoying. He can’t believe his alarm clock chose today to run out of battery. Nakamura’s lucky his homeroom teacher isn’t too strict on lateness.
About to change his shoes, he finds a note in his shoe box. A piece of lined paper neatly folded in quarters. Nakamura rolls his eyes. Whoever put this in here must’ve not known where the actual intended recipient’s shoe box was. But curiosity will always get the best of him so he’ll take a look at it before throwing it out.
Nakamura Okuto,
Could you meet me on the roof after school today? It'd be awesome if I could tell you something that's been on my mind a while.
I hope to see you there!
Great, there goes his plans to get home early and do nothing.
It oddly feels like something out of his sister’s shoujo manga. Nakamura pictures himself coming to the roof to find a girl standing there, ready to confess her love to him. As much as it inflates his ego to know that someone is interested in him, Nakamura has no interest in dating a girl. Rather, a certain boy with messy brown hair and a blinding smile.
He now imagines a red faced Hirose waiting for him on the roof, professing his love to Nakamura. Nakamura, accepting his feelings, would pull him into a kiss. Hirose would wrap his arms around his neck and when they pull apart, he’d pull him back in for more. Yes, this is a much more desirable outcome.
Though his fantasy is cut short by the realization that this could just be a prank. He struggles to think of anyone that could possibly be interested in him. It’s not like Nakamura is popular or talks to many people on a regular basis. Most people just know him as some quiet kid on the sidelines. At least it means no one would have any reason to have it against him. The benefit of not making friends is not making any enemies.
Nakamura would have to think about if it’s a good idea to meet the note sender. He folds the note along its creases and shoves it into his pocket.
Opening the door to his homeroom, Nakamura sees Hirose and his friends already there chatting away. After having gotten the note, Nakamura can’t help but fall back into his daydream. There’s a nonzero chance for everything after all. There’s a slim chance that Hirose could have stayed up trying to figure out how to word his note and woke up a little early to make sure no one would see him slip it into his shoe box. The handwriting could belong to him. If Nakamura could compare the note with a proper sample, he’d know for sure.
"Good morning, Nakamura," a voice calls, pulling him out of his thoughts.
He looks in the direction of the sound, and it's Hirose, smiling and waving to him from his seat.
"Ah, good morning!" He waves back.
That smile of his never fails to warm Nakamura’s heart.
10 AM
Either Nakamura's classes are more boring than usual, or he simply can't focus today. Everything the teachers of his classes have said went through one ear and out the other. His face every so often turns to face the clock on the wall, blankly watching the hands tick, waiting for the class to end.
The only thing he can think about is the note. The little slip of lined paper. It’s annoying how something so simple can get Nakamura so worked up. Everyone passes notes, it’s nothing special. Still, he unfolds the note under the desk to get another look at it, to keep it fresh in his mind.
Admiring the handwriting, Nakamura notes how despite its sloppiness, there was a hint of elegance to it, like there was rhythm to all the rises and falls of the sharp strokes. There was a notable contrast between the way Nakamura’s name was written and the rest of the note. His name was written neatly, the letters drawn with the intention of looking as perfect as possible.
Behind the message was a faint shadow of scrapped words. Some words were erased and rewritten to look neater. Others had completely different phrases that Nakamura couldn’t make out. But at the end of the message, he could very clearly see the ghosts of some erased words.
because I think
It’s a good thing that whoever wrote the note is capable of cognitive thinking but on its own, that gives Nakamura absolutely nothing. What did they think that they chose to back out of including?
Hell. All this is only making him more curious about the mystery author. It’s clear they put careful thought into the phrasing and appearance of their concise message.
Otogiri-sensei's voice interrupts him, "Nakamura, what's on your phone that’s more important than the class?"
Nakamura's soul leaves his body. Phone? He wants to correct him but he doesn’t want to explain the truth. How well would ‘I’m not on my phone, I’m looking at a note someone sent me this morning,’ fare? Nakamura sighs. He’ll have to sacrifice his phone.
He quickly stands up out of his seat and holds his phone towards his teacher.
“I’m sorry, sir!” He exclaims. “Just take it!”
"Look, I don't feel like taking your phone so I'll let it slide this once. Just put it away, yeah? Don’t let it happen again."
As Otogiri walks back to the front of the room, the sound of quiet snickers coming from his classmates fills Nakamura’s ears. This was a lot easier than expected. Though at this point, Nakamura would have rathered his phone being taken away.
He quickly sits back down and slides his phone back into his pocket. Nakamura wants to phase through the ground and not be perceived again. He tries to just scribble on the corner of the page to get his mind off of this but it doesn’t help.
The embarrassment must’ve been caused by the note. It was definitely planted in his shoe box on purpose. The occult club was behind this curse, the occult club for sure. It’s just another scheme to get him to join the club. They are the ones playing the prank on him. They want to embarrass him.
But Nakamura doesn’t want to accept this reality. He’ll have to keep an open mind at the very least. He’ll cry if he goes up to that rooftop after school to find someone laughing at him and how gullible he is to believe that someone could possibly love him.
At the end of the day, it’s still worth a shot. This person might end up being nice.
12 PM
All this thinking has made him hungry, which is why Nakamura is glad it’s finally lunchtime. This morning, he packed last night’s leftovers into his bag. He pulls out the small container with his stir-fry rice, his mouth watering already. He quickly retrieves his disposable chopsticks and digs into his meal.
While it doesn’t feel the same at room temperature, the burst of flavor in his mouth reminds him how great his mom’s cooking is.
"Hey, Nakamura," Hirose greets him and pulls a chair over to sit in front of the other boy. With his mouth full, Nakamura waves at him with his free hand.
Hirose takes a peek at his food. “Woah, that looks delicious!”
"Want some?" Nakamura blurts out.
"Sure!" His eyes light up. "I forgot to pack my lunch today, you're a real lifesaver!"
Nakamura wants to curse himself out for offering to share his food the one day he brings a five-star meal to school but he can't bring himself to. Hirose’s bright smile is enough to convince Nakamura that his first-grade teacher meant it when she talked about the importance of sharing.
"Do you have spare chopsticks?" Hirose asks as Nakamura picks up some rice with his pair.
"I don't think so."
"That's fine then," Hirose replies. He holds the hand holding the chopsticks and guides it over to his mouth. Such a tactic successfully allows him to steal a bite of rice from Nakamura.
Hirose beams in delight while Nakamura feels his face burn, like he’s about to ascend to the heavens. The room temperature food could easily be heated with the warmth radiating from his face. Hirose’s touch is so light and gentle. He wishes he could have his hand in his forever.
Nakamura mentally slaps himself, he needs to stop looking at Hirose’s hands. Lifting his chopsticks again, his hands shake, unable to pick up any of his rice. The sweat on his hands only makes it harder to keep them still.
"You okay Nakamura? Here, lemme get that for you," Hirose says, taking the chopsticks from his hands. "Say 'ah!'"
"Ah..?" Nakamura hesitantly opens his mouth and quickly realizes that Hirose is feeding him. His initial surprise fades after Hirose continues this pattern a couple times with a gentle smile, occasionally taking some bites of food for himself.
As much as he may be embarrassed for his classmates to see him like this, Nakamura quite likes it. Something about it feels so intimate, as if they were the only people in the classroom. Sharing food with the boy he loves feels even better than he could've imagined. Besides, his face can't get any redder from here. There’s no way Hirose hasn’t noticed by now but by some stroke of luck, he hasn’t commented about it.
"By the way, did you cook this yourself?" Hirose asked.
Nakamura shook his head, "Nah, my mom is a way better cook than me. My sister typically gets to last night's leftovers before me but I got lucky today."
"Well if she cooks this great all the time, I'd have to spend dinner with your family sometime!"
Oh, the thought of Hirose meeting his family. They'd welcome him with open arms. Nakamura's parents would adore him, praising their son for bringing home such a sweet boy. Nakamura never really had anyone to talk about his crushes with so his sister would fill that slot perfectly, aggressively teasing him over his taste in men. It's fun to imagine how well Hirose would get along with her, even if she'd pretend to hate him whenever Nakamura would bring him up.
“You’re welcome anytime,” He mumbles in reply.
Hirose smiles and continues to feed Nakamura, occasionally eating some of the fried rice himself. In the end, it was absolutely worth bringing lunch. The partial loss of his home-cooked meal was immediately made worth it because of the softness in Hirose’s gaze. Normally, eye contact isn't Nakamura’s forte but now, he can't help but return it. Admiring every little detail of his face, his heart beats out of his chest. His eyes flick down to Hirose’s lips, slightly chapped yet soft.
Nakamura looks back up at his eyes to find that they were looking away, embarrassed. He’s so cute like this, with the light red dusting on his cheeks, the way he picked at his nails. Nakamura wants to see Hirose like this more often.
“Nakamura.”
“Yeah?”
Hirose took a deep breath. “I-”
The bell’s melodic rings cut him off. Why now? Nakamura wanted to hear what he had to say.
“I’ll tell you later, yeah?” Hirose quickly puts his chair back and returns to his seat.
What the hell was he going to say? Is he just not ever going to find out?
Nakamura feels like screaming more than usual. The hesitance in Hirose’s voice was something he’s never heard before. The anticipation is killing him. He doesn’t know how he’ll sleep soundly at night without knowing what Hirose was going to say to him. Especially after gazing into each other’s eyes like that. No matter how sure he was that Hirose was straight, Nakamura wasn’t able to find a heterosexual explanation for that one.
3 PM
The bell’s melody echoed through the school, marking the end of the day. Nakamura pulls the now crumpled note out of his pocket, skimming it over one last time before the moment of truth.
Nakamura trudges through the sea of students, the current pulling him in the opposite direction of where he needs to be. Still, he pushes on and tries not to step on anyone’s shoes. The end of the hallway is within reach. The stairwell is at least far less populated than the hall, luckily for him.
With each step, Nakamura’s heart sinks further and further. The note sender is waiting for him, for Nakamura himself. Part of him wants this to be a joke. He just wants to get this over with. If someone is really going to confess to him, he doesn't want to be the jerk that rejects a sweet girl for no reason.
Reaching the top of the steps, Nakamura pushes the roof leading to the roof open with sweaty palms. It’s mostly empty apart from the occasional pairs of friends sitting on the ground or standing by the railing. There doesn’t seem to be anybody waiting. Someone really did play a joke on him. Disappointing but Nakamura already mentally prepared himself to be here so he may as well humor the note for a bit longer while he's at it. He'll walk a lap around the roof to see if the mystery author decides to show up late.
He tries to be subtle about looking for the sender but he just looks like a lost first-year as a result. It makes Nakamura more conscious about the way he's walking when he gets the occasional glances from the other students also on the roof. They might think he’s lonely and they’d, unfortunately, be right. But what does he care? He doesn’t know these people anyway.
At the very least, the view from here is nice. Nakamura stops here to lean his elbows on the fence. The city looks so peaceful from up here. The convenience store across the street from the school, doors open with a group of friends coming out with a handful of snacks. Students waiting at the bus stop, one texting on their phone, another poking their head to see if the bus is coming, another with headphones on and fiddling with their bus fare. A lively park a few blocks away, tall trees sticking out of the ground making it easy to point out from this distance. A stray cat crossing the street. A dog on a leash sprinting away, its owner chasing after it. The breeze pushing around Nakamura’s hair.
Even a city so rough around the edges has its moments of joy. Nakamura finds some solace in it, he could learn a thing or two about the blissful chaos that greets him every day. It’ll always be here for him. And he’ll always be there to admire it.
Nakamura takes the note from his pocket and folds it into a paper airplane. Since nobody ended up showing up, he won't need it anymore.
He readies his arm and releases it into the sky. Watching it bounce around in the breeze, flowing in the sky, Nakamura feels oddly content with the day. Sure, he was stood up but if he hadn't gotten the note, he wouldn't have taken the chance to appreciate the calm afternoon. Nakamura lets out a dry laugh and turns around. Time to head home.
Nakamura begins making his way back to the stairs. He allows himself to walk slowly to take in the calm breeze, the sound of his footsteps a relaxing metronome. Yet another clicking of footsteps can be heard at a much faster rate.
“Nakamura!”
He turns around to be met with Hirose running towards him.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Hirose slows down to catch his breath.
“Late?” Nakamura echoes.
“Yeah. You got my note didn’t you?”
Nakamura lets out a choked sound and lets his jaw drop.
“That was you?!” He shouts.
“Hey, maybe be a little quieter?” Hirose’s face quickly reddens. “But yeah, it was me.”
That look from earlier is back, Hirose twirling his hair with his fingers. Nakamura wants to hold him and assure him that everything’s okay.
“Well, you know it’s fine for you to just ask me to talk directly, right? There’s no need to go the note route if we’re friends,” Nakamura tries to reassure.
“Yeah, I guess. But you gotta admit, this makes it way more suspenseful!” Hirose jokes. “Plus I can’t lie, I was super nervous about talking to anyone about this! This could totally wreck my relationship with my parents!”
Nakamura laughs along with him but he’s getting concerned now. Is Hirose going to confess to murder? He’s not sure if he could still be in love with a murderer. If that actually is what he’s going to tell Nakamura, at least it means Hirose trusts him enough to share his true self to him. So maybe he could still like him if he does admit to killing anyone after all.
Snap out of it! Hirose isn’t a murderer!
Hirose clears his throat. “So. Nakamura. What do you think of gay people?”
“I’m gay,” Nakamura quickly says before his mind can catch up.
He didn’t mean to say that. Nakamura covers his mouth in embarrassment.
“You are?”
He can’t figure out what Hirose is thinking. Nakamura feels his heart beat at the speed of sound. There’s no backing out of this.
He mumbles, refusing to look at him. “Yeah. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”
“No, no, it’s okay!” Hirose lights up. “I’m glad actually.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, I think I might be gay or something. I don’t know how it works really. I still like girls but I recently figured out I like this one specific guy,” He adds.
What a sharp jab to his heart. Nakamura already knew he had no chance with Hirose but now it’s just painful. He previously ruled it as him being straight. Now knowing that he may actually like men, it means that Hirose just doesn’t like Nakamura at all.
Fighting back the tears forming in his eyes, Nakamura reminds himself that this is his friend and that he should be as supportive as he can be.
“I think there’s a word for that, liking boys and girls I mean. Bisexual, I think,” Nakamura says.
“Woah, that’s a thing?” Hirose smiles. “So there’s a word for me! I’m not that weird after all!”
He pulls Nakamura in for a hug. “You’re awesome, Nakamura…”
Nakamura stumbles slightly from the sudden arms wrapping around his neck. He hesitantly slides his arms around Hirose’s waist. This is the closest he’s been to him. Nakamura adores this feeling but he’s so suddenly self aware of his movements now. Did he forget how to hug? It feels right but are his arms too low?
“You know, I think you’d make a good boyfriend,” Hirose mumbles into his neck out of the blue, sending chills down Nakamura’s spine.
“W-where’d that come from?” Nakamura stutters out.
“I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about it lately. You’re so easy to talk to, easier than anyone. And I feel like no one gets me like you do. Besides, you’re fun to get to know, bad manga taste aside.”
Hirose pulls apart from the hug to now hold both of Nakamura’s hands in his. Nakamura stares wide eyed at their interlocked hands then back at Hirose.
“I guess this is my way of asking you to be my boyfriend,” Hirose says, avoiding eye contact. His cheeks are lightly painted in a gentle red, his hands cold and clammy.
“I would love that!” Nakamura replies a little too quickly.
Hirose bursts out into laughter and rests his forehead against Nakamura’s.
“What’s so funny?” Nakamura asks.
“Nothing. I just don’t think I’ll ever get tired of calling you my boyfriend now.”