#my current issue is i sent her a somewhat cold text without thinking. and i don't think she's going to respond

[andtheyreonfire]

i got a bitch who i think is actively trying to fuck with me and my emotions, despite acting friendly otherwise. the problem is i need 7 very important things from her. she is also currently in another state. sages of tumblr do you have any advice

[beautifulhigh]

The longer this cold goes on, the angrier I get and I either need talking down off this ledge or I need someone to be my Spartan wife and nod their agreement that I should go off on one.

So...

Be me

Give lifts to someone to/from Bootcamp each week because they don't drive and so you are the only way they could attend this class. (They somewhat have the option of the earlier one in the evening but For Reasons this is currently the better options for them.)

Have a set time frame of a 10 minute window you will be there to collect them, as traffic can slow you down. You always text when you are near/there. HOWEVER... they are almost always late and you still end up sitting there for a good five minutes most nights.

You've also had to speak to her about slamming your car door shut so violently it's made your ears ring.

Also each trip there/back is taken up with her life, issues, problems (see the For Reasons) and you're lucky if you get a "so how are you" in the seconds before we arrive at the destination.

Anyway

Last week, you get a text on the Monday saying she's not well so won't be at class. No further details are given. On Wednesday she says she is "feeling better" and wants to come back.

You pick her up.

She is coughing. A lot. She's had the cold that's doing the rounds, the one that has wiped people out.

At class she wants to work with you so you're with her, sharing equipment for an hour. You drive her home.

In the biggest not surprise, have a heart attack and die from not surprise, you get sick.

Which means you now have to avoid your parents because your mum has no immune system and so things like this can make her really ill for a really long time.

You live alone so they're pretty much your only human contact. And they're going away for over two weeks in a bit so you're looking at the best part of a month without seeing them.

Text this person to let them know, a) you're sick, b) you won't be at class, and c) the consequences of their actions. Their response is "it's just a cold, I didn't think" to which you point out they knew about your mum and so it's not a cold. They respond "I'm sorry, I will try to be more aware of others in future". You tell her that you will let her know when you're back.

Just over 24 hours later she texts you saying "I won't be at class on Monday, but if you're back by Wednesday then a lift would be good". To her credit she deletes this... about 20 minutes after, and sends a new one saying she was asking about lifts next week but she realised you might not be back then, and she hopes you're feeling better soon. She still typed out and sent that first one a day after saying she would be more considerate.

You spend the weekend pretty much in bed. You can't do anything else. It's the best weekend the UK had had in months and you can't enjoy it

You need to log into work on Monday morning to do some time-sensisitive stuff, but it's clear you're going to have to sign off and be sick for a few days. This means you're now likely to hit a trigger point for absence because you had that awful chest infection at the end of last year.

All this because she thought it was "just a cold" and it didn't matter that she was still coughing away like a champ. And IDK, I'm really tempted to say that at the end of this block she make arrangements to go back to the earlier one and just deal with it in terms of work, or find alternative travel. Because while being late is something that happens occasionally (but often enough to be remarked on), and she is now better at not slamming my car door, this feels like A Very Big Thing which speedruns right into "I can't do this anymore".

[vs-redemption]

Betrayal:Part One (Cheater!Hawks X Fem!Reader)

✨Please click HERE to read Part Two

Requested by: @iibambii1

Not going to lie, this hurt me to even write! It came out a lot longer than I expected too (1,779 words!) but I hope it’s what you wanted! ♥

My requests are still open for anyone who is interested. Please check out my rules and masterlist!

The time on your nightstand changes to five am and the chime of your alarm pulls you from the depths of sleep. You groan in discomfort once your brain registers the uncomfortable stuffiness of the room. Trying to sleep at all in the muggy summer air was tough enough, but the man currently wrapped around you didn’t make it any easier. You grab his wrist to gently free yourself but he just reacts by pulling you closer. You feel his face nuzzle into your shoulder which you might have considered cute if you weren’t already covered in a light sweat.

“Keigo,” you whisper softly. “Let me go.” One of his giant red wings unfurls and flops over the top of you both in a blanket of soft feathers, making the temperature situation even warmer. This was the price you paid for dating a bird man who got cold really easily. You usually kept the air conditioning off whenever he came over so that he’d be more comfortable even though it was a bit unpleasant for you.

“I don’t want you to go,” He mumbles into your back. You assumed one of his feathers had zipped over to the nightstand to turn off your alarm because the irritating noise finally stopped

“I know,” you roll over to face him. “But if you don’t let me out of bed I’m going to sweat to death and miss my train to work.”

“Fine.” He reluctantly folds back his wing and releases the strong grip around your waist. You finally climb out of bed, stretching up your arms to work out the kinks in your muscles before turning back to look at your boyfriend. You roll your eyes at the pout on his face but don’t deny yourself the opportunity to lean back in and kiss his lips softly.

“Try to go back to sleep for a bit,” You tell him and he nods sleepily. You grab your work clothes and head to the bathroom so you wouldn’t disturb him while getting ready. Most days, he would get up with you since mornings were almost the only time you got to spend together, but lately he’d been doing a lot of night patrols so that he could train one of his new sidekicks during the day. He was exhausted. You make sure to start a fresh pot of coffee for him before heading to work.

It was just after your lunch break when you got a phone call from the secretary at Keigo’s agency. Your boyfriend had been sent out to the scene of a villain attack and ended up getting himself hurt. They assured you that his injury wasn’t too serious, but you still chose to leave work early to go see for yourself.

“Hey! What happened?” You ask him once you’d made it to the hospital. It was a relief to see he was up and walking around instead of laid out in one of the hospital beds. There were three ladies in the room with him. Two were wearing scrubs and one was wearing a hero costume. You recognized her as one of your boyfriend’s new sidekicks. Her hero name was Jet Stream and Keigo had recruited her from another hero agency a few months before. She had an air propulsion quirk that made her almost as fast as Keigo when it came to moving through the sky. It seemed a little strange that she was there, but you figured she must have been with him when the attack happened.

“I got swatted out of the air by a villain and landed weird on my arm,” Keigo says sheepishly while looking down at his right arm which was in a sling. “Nothing’s broken though, so I’ll be all right.” One of the hospital ladies gives him a list of exercises to do to help his arm heal properly before having him sign some paperwork so that he could leave.

“Why don’t we get you home so you can rest?” You suggest once you’re outside. “I’ll make you something good for dinner.”

“I can’t,” Keigo says regretfully. “There’s still a bunch of stuff I need to get done today at the agency. The good news is that all my patrols have been canceled for a while, so I can stop by your place later if you want.”

“Yeah, okay.” You didn’t agree with his choice, but that’s just how your boyfriend was. He was always on the move and it was nearly impossible to get him to slow down, let alone stop. “Promise me you’ll take it easy though.” He agrees to that and tells you not to worry before he and his sidekick take off into the sky.

The next couple weeks are somewhat of a struggle. Keigo wasn’t used to having so much down time, so he showed up at your place the first few days feeling energized and restless. It made it hard for him to fall asleep and he ended up keeping you awake too with his tossing and turning. That issue combined with his intolerance for air conditioning in the middle of summer made for undesirable living conditions. After losing patience with him a few times, you both decided that he should stay at his apartment until his schedule went back to normal. Not having your boyfriend around made for even worse living conditions though. You were both busy enough to begin with, and now you hardly saw him at all. It didn’t take long for you to start missing him terribly. You couldn’t wait until everything went back to normal.

You thought you might cry in relief when you finally got his text saying the doctor had cleared him to go back to his regular hero work. His coworkers at the agency must’ve been just as happy to have their winged hero back in action because he told you they were taking him out after work and that he’d try to come by your place afterward if it wasn’t too late. You felt a little disappointed but reasoned that it might actually be better for him to go out and have some fun before going back to working himself ragged. There’d be plenty of time to catch up with him later, so when it got too late for you to wait up any longer, you went to bed feeling content that you could enjoy your air conditioner one last time.

You knew something was wrong as soon as you woke up the next morning and found Keigo sitting by himself in your living room. It was strange for him to come visit you so early since he tended to sleep in unless he stayed the night. It was even weirder that he’d plopped himself on your sofa instead of crawling into your bed to wake you up. Your stomach drops when he turns to look at you with sad eyes that looked red and irritated as if he were about to cry. Your first thought was that someone had died.

“What’s going on?” You’re quick to try and join him on the sofa but he’s faster. He dodges your touch by standing up and moving to the other side of the room. His rejection of your comfort made you feel even more concerned.

“Something happened,” his voice comes out strained and it makes you fear what he’ll say next. He paces back and forth a bit before turning back to you and taking a deep breath.

“She… she kissed me.”

You swear your heart stops beating completely.

“Who?” You ask immediately. Your boyfriend clenches his eyes shut and runs his hands through his hair, making it look even more wild and feathery than normal.

“The sidekick,” he spits out the words as if ripping off a band-aid. “Jet Stream.” You tell yourself to try and stay calm until you know the whole situation, but the urge to get sick was getting stronger by the second. The thought of another girl touching your boyfriend made you extremely uncomfortable. Keigo lets out another shaky sigh before adding, “I… uh… I kissed her back.”

“What?” You push yourself off the sofa, too shocked and upset to sit still any longer. Was this seriously happening right now? “Why?!”

There were genuine tears welling up in your boyfriend’s eyes now and he averts his gaze to avoid your anger. “It was a few days ago,” he admits. “She… well, at first she offered to come over to my place to help me with those exercises for my arm. Everything seemed normal at first, but I guess it got too comfortable and then it happened.” You could feel your hands starting to tremble due to the surge of emotions running through your body.

“Why would you bring her home in the first place?” You finally snap. “You could’ve done the exercises at the agency or literally anywhere else!” You knew it was pointless to ask, but you didn’t know what else to say. You were feeling so angry that he somehow hadn’t been able to be away from you for more than a week without kissing another girl. You were also feeling guilty for agreeing to take a time out from the sleepovers even though it had been in both of your best interests.

“I don’t know,” Keigo rubs his hands over his face. “But that’s not everything.”

“What?” Your voice comes out low and cold even though inside you were petrified. You didn’t know if you wanted him to tell you. The tears finally start to fall from Keigo’s eyes and roll down his cheeks.

“There’s a reason I didn’t make it over here last night.”

He didn’t need to explain. Those words were enough to send your heart shattering into a million pieces. The seething anger you felt from before gets sucked away just to be replaced by a sadness that sat so heavy in your chest you could scarcely breathe. What happened to the guy who loved you so much he refused to let you leave your bed even to go to work? He must never have loved you at all.

“I think you should leave,” You tell him while fighting off tears of your own. A look of panic blooms in Keigo’s eyes and he takes a step toward you but you back away from his reach. He sounds so sad when he whispers your name, but you felt no sympathy for him.

“Please, go.” You state firmly and you see Keigo nod before heading to the door. You wait until the door shuts behind him before sinking back into the sofa and letting the tears fall.

✨Please click HERE to read Part Two

[bluerosewritings]

Duel Rules | Riddle x Stubborn!Reader

[Originally uploaded to ‘The Hearts Mirror’ on Wattpad]

Your stubbornness had started off as an admirable quality to Riddle. While other students were grumbling about the Queen of Hearts' rules, you were determined to follow them, almost to a fault. Sure, you weren't as big of a rule abider as Riddle but you'd set your mind on upholding what you believed to be the values of Heartslabyul and Riddle respected you for that.

The only issue was when you came across a rule you didn't agree with. Not matter what, if you didn't want to follow it, you would never follow it, and it drove Riddle insane. Even post-overblot, your dorm head was still shocked at how adamantly against you were at following rules 39, 176 and 590. Especially rule 590.

That was how you had once again been called to the dorm lounge long after it had been deserted by the other students, sitting across from Riddle who was massaging the bridge of his nose. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he briefly looked up at you, wondering how in the of Twisted Wonderland the two of you managed to keep finding yourselves together like this.

"(y/n)-"

You cut him off. "It wasn't my fault."

Riddle couldn't stop his eyebrow from twitching. "It wasn't your fault?"

You nodded.

"So the fact that your roommate is currently in the infirmary after a magic duel from a shot multiple people, including myself, saw you cast... is not your fault?" Riddle said, finally looking you in the eye. His expression was a hardened glare, though you could tell there was something else behind it as well.

"Look, he started it," you explained, "he said some pretty stupid stuff and said if I won a duel against him, he would keep his mouth shut - if I lost, he got to tell everyone and I took his place in Azul's contract. Not my fault."

Riddle shook his head. "Even though you broke the rules of the duel?"

The accusation made you shift in your seat. Riddle knew logically you couldn't deny it - it was a miracle that the headmaster had agreed to let him deal with the issue, even if he was your dorm head. While duels typically weren't allowed on school grounds, rule 590 of the Queen of Hearts was something of a loophole, where as long as only non-elemental magic was used a duel was allowed. During your duel, however, you had cast wind magic, causing your opponent to be pushed backwards. You'd intended just to scare him but he instead tripped and fell down on his arm at a not so nice angle, luckily managing not to break it but unfortunately it was still pretty battered.

"...He shouldn't have been acting like an idiot." you eventually replied, receiving another unhappy look from Riddle. "Look, he was going to use elemental magic on me too, okay? I had no choice!"

"And you know that, how?"

"Because he was bragging about it to his friends in broad daylight like an idiot."

"If you knew that, then you should've come to me. In fact, why didn't you?" Riddle crossed his arms, confusion now showing on his face. "I usually mediate all your duels. So why—"

"B-Because I don't want to keep dragging you into my messes!" You say.

A pout forms on Riddle's face. While you'd usually consider it cute, you knew it meant he didn't believe your lie. You internally cursed yourself for not thinking of a better excuse.

"(y/n)," Riddle's voice grew sterner, "why didn't you talk to me?"

You mumbled under your breath. Riddle gave out another frustrated sigh.

"(y/n)."

"...because then he'd have known."

Riddle furrowed his brows. "Known? Known what?"

"That we're dating."

Riddle blinked, unsure of how to reply. "Why would you talking to me make him know... that?"

"That was the secret." You told him. "He said he knew we were... y'know. But I could tell he wasn't 100% sure, so I played it off and tried to keep away."

Well, that explained your lack of presence being made up by late-night texts, then.

"I mean, I still don't see why we have to hide us," you continued, "since you shouldn't care about what your mother thinks after what she did to you! But... you don't want that, so... I had to break the rule. I... I'm sorry."

Riddle froze. "Huh? Could you... repeat that?"

"Repeat what?" You feigned innocence, knowing exactly what he meant.

Riddle wasn't going to give up so easily, however. "The last thing you said."

"I had to break the rule."

"After that."

"...I'm... sorry." A blush spread across your cheeks. You didn't exactly mean your words - you were sorry, yes, but really for worrying Riddle rather than for standing your ground. You were pretty sure Riddle knew it too.

It didn't matter. Your apology and your expression caused Riddle to soften. He stood up from the lounge's "throne" couch and made his way over to you. Using your bodies to shield your hands from any unlikely late-night visitors, Riddle intertwined his fingers with yours, giving your hand a light squeeze. As the two of you rarely made any contact, the action caused a light red to spread across both your cheeks.

"Thank you, (y/n)." Riddle said. "However, this does not mean I approve of you going around and disrespecting not only the school's rules but also the Queen of Hearts' rules. Understand?"

You huff. "Even though they're so pointless?"

Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Does that make rule 2 pointless as well?"

"Of course not! Scones without fruit tea is unforgivable." You argued, shocked Riddle would even suggest the idea.

Riddle sighed, though you saw the corners of his mouth twitch. "Then you need to follow the other rules, too. You can't just do what you think is right concerning rules - I think what happened to me should be proof enough of that."

The thought of Riddle's overblot sent a cold feeling down your spine. "I would never... get that far. I promise."

Riddle smiled. "I know; I wouldn't let you. Not that you'd let yourself get 'there' either."

"Thank you." You whispered. You dropped your voice even lower. "...I love you."

"I love you, too." Riddle replied, words so quiet you had to read his lips.

His lips... before you could stop yourself, you placed your lips on his, clutching his hands. Secrecy temporarily forgotten, Riddle loosened his grip on one of your hands to move his to the back of your head, adjusting the angle of your head so he could kiss you deeper. The kiss likely lasted no more than thirty seconds, but like every time you touched, it felt like a thousand years.

For the millionth time, you cursed Riddle's mother and the fear she'd pushed into her son that caused the two of you to keep your relationship on the down-low. You couldn't help yourself - you wanted more. You dove you head closer to his again, only your aim was off, causing the two of you to bump noses.

Riddle let out a cry of pain as you cursed your bad luck, using your free hand to massage your nose. Once the pain subsided, you and Riddle caught each other's eyes. Laughter started coming out of Riddle as he had to look away, your pout too cute for him to handle at the moment.

"I'm getting better!" You insisted. "It's just dark in here, that's all."

"Of course." Riddle complied.

He brought his free hand away from the back of your head and began to caress your cheek. You leaned into his palm, though your pout still remained. Riddle giggled and placed a quick, chaste kiss against your lips. Like always, he adored the look of surprise bliss that decorated your face.

You missed the heat when he eventually pulled his hand away. Your hand felt empty without his to hold.

You were happy you could still look into his eyes. "(y/n), even if someone is threatening to reveal our relationship, if anything like that happens again, make sure to come to me. Understand?"

You frowned. On one hand, you were happy he was willing to risk your relationship to keep you out of trouble; on the other hand, you didn't like the implication that you couldn't handle your own problems. It may have ended badly this time, but that didn't mean it would always end somewhat tragically.

But one look into Riddle's worried eyes and you knew you couldn't say no. "...Okay. I promise."

The tension seemed to literally fly off Riddle's shoulders. "Thank you, (y/n)."

He placed a kiss on your cheek and smiled. "I'm expecting a five hundred sentence essay on your self-reflection about the school rules and rule 590 in my room by tomorrow night, as well as a written apology to who you injured."

"Wha- Riddle!?" You turned, too stunned to grab his arm as he walked off. "That's unfair! Riddle!"

The red-head chuckled, looking back at you with a smirk. "Would you rather it was off with your head?"

No, you didn't. It didn't stop you from grumbling about it however.

Riddle chuckled. "Be glad I'm making you drop it off in my room instead of in front of everyone. Good night, (y/n)."

Riddle left, leaving you alone in the lounge. You let out a frustrated sigh, even though you were getting off leniently. And why was he making you drop off the essay to his room specifically, instead of just letting you just hand it to him whenever? And at night! He-

Oh. Alone. A blush invaded your cheeks. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Dream Ashes (Yoongi x Reader)

Genre: Smut, Angst, FwB AU, HYYH AU

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Allusions to self-harm, smoking, drinking and domestic abuse, toxic relationships, unrequited love, Top!/Dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex (ALWAYS do it safely, lads and lasses), (semi-)public sex (if sex on a rooftop counts), swearing/cussing

Summary: Not every night under each roof is pleasant, filled with arguments and the broken dreams of aspiring artists held back by parents either having no faith in their child’s talent or, if they acknowledge it at all, in a future pursuing a dream. A mixture of the two continues to kill the aspirations of the black sheep of the Min family, a delinquent deemed a pyromaniac by the ignorant eyes that solely know how to shallowly judge.

But there is a guardian angel with love who bears his burden gladly on lonely nights.

Even if it comes at the cost of her own heart.

Masterlist

Not every night under each roof is pleasant, filled with arguments and the broken dreams of aspiring artists held back by parents either having no faith in their child’s talent or, if they acknowledge it at all, in a future pursuing a dream. A mixture of the two continues to kill the aspirations of the black sheep of the Min family, a delinquent deemed a pyromaniac by the ignorant eyes that solely know how to shallowly judge. However, the open-minded individuals who can see beneath the tough exterior will be met by a musical genius who is forced time and again to give up the sole reason to live.

Music.

The piano.

‘I don’t have a dream. Besides, what’s the point in having one?’ Those words have become a steady statement to make whenever the conversation turns to what can be done after leaving behind six good friends and dropping out of high school. Whether any help is needed, in any regard, because a girl ran away from home herself is more than knowledgeable in how hard it can be to survive without anything to fall back on.

Though eventually a safe haven was offered freely by the actual leader of our little band of troublemakers guarded by a mistress of lies, another runaway living in a train yard outside of town. 

Withal, tonight a new worrying addition is spoken after a habitual check-up text sent from Joon’s refurbished container after patching up Taehyung’s latest wounds inflicted by a raging drunk of a worthless father. The boy with the curious square smile stubbornly continues to hide the true cause of the physical and mental pain despite his fellow graffiti artist having hinted multiple times at wanting him to open up about the issue. Notwithstanding, it would seem the real cause of the harm will only be entrusted to the boys' confidante, the guardian angel helping tattooed aqua locks keep the rabble in line. 

For as far as that is possible. 

‘They take everything from the inside and throw it away.’

‘Who is they?’ Throat constricted by concern at this new detail, fingers stop combing through caramel locks finally fallen asleep after grunting through the medicinal care while precariously avoiding making eye contact with Monie. 

‘Everybody.’

‘I don’t, I would never. Neither would Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, it’s not!’ No response, the last text remaining to be noted as read. ‘Yoongi? 

‘Yoongi, answer me! You’re not gonna do anything stupid, you hear me?

‘Yoongi, please!’

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

‘Oh God.’ The exclamation comes out on a short breath, panic rapidly overtaking as thoughts refer to the past.

‘What?’ Namjoon looks up from designing a new piece of art to place somewhere on a bare city wall, an eyebrow curiously cocked.

‘I- I need to go.’ Gently, Tae is laid down on the mattress. Futilely, the unconscious boy tries to wrap arms around the upper legs to pin them where they are before moving away. They have to, because time has become precariously precious again. Hence, all that the sleeper gets is a quick platonic peck on the forehead. ‘Right now.’

‘What’s going on?’ The leader notices the distress, turning halfway on the worn seat and about to get up.

‘It’s Yoongi. He’s not responding anymore and I think I know why.’

Shredded paper, beautiful notes turned awry thanks to disregard by the public, compositions torn apart to be hauled through a shredder or be burned in the next fire leading to an arrest.

Scarlet.

Glistening metal. 

More silver lines added to the ever-expanding canvas on pale thin limbs.

‘Honestly, why doesn’t he just come here? We’ve both said multiple times he should.’ Honey digits remove the simple beanie to run through blue short strands, defeated in the wager as to why the pianist remains on the flight instead of retreating to the home we have created. 

Regardless of the severity weighing heavily on shoulders moving towards the door, a sympathetic smile can be managed to put Joon at least somewhat at ease. One person carrying the burden of Time is more than enough and if someone should be to blame for being too late, it should be the guardian angel. ‘Because he can’t see the point, the good it’ll do him. He doesn’t know he has a home.’

It should be me.

‘He’d rather see his dream burn than move in with us.’ A mutual deep sigh erases the only sign of comfort that can be given at the moment as a hand reaches towards the latch. ‘One of these days I’ll drag him here myself and just lock him in. It’ll be full house, but I’m sure we could figure something out.’

‘Good luck with that, Monie. I’d help, but I value my life. He’s a tiger. One that’s hopefully unharmed by the time I reach him.’ Because, once more, it are solely the black wings engraved into the back which know the truth while the rising bird is kept in the dark regardless of begging in silence for the last sliver of complete trust even telling of hardships they do not know about. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Gritting gravel surrounding neglected railways beneath open twilight gradually transforms into asphalt broken up by holes in the districts ruled by crime and smooth steady ways in good neighbourhoods forming the residence area of families of which the children will either become something akin to the grandness of a doctor or a nine-to-five, if not worse, office worker. And it is here the phone put into the pocket of the denim jacket buzzes, the screen lighting up thanks to a new message that is a blessing and a curse at the same time. ‘Not home. Ran away. Warehouse. Roof.’

‘When did you run?’ The answer might seem fairly obvious were it not for the memory of the first time created melodies were destroyed by the paper shredder and parents furiously yelled at the aspiring producer to actually go back to school and get a proper education.

A good life.

Meant for someone else.

Not for an artist.

These same bordeaux Puma sneakers stormed through the front door and up the stairs after mister Min opened up, about to ask who in their right mind came calling around midnight. Absolutely not giving a damn about the consequences and solely focused on reaching a familiar door hiding ignored hardship. 

Truth be told, none of us ever has.

Because we live.

Young, wild and free.

Or so we will, after all of us have escaped the judgmental cage created by a society looking down on creative souls trying to make a change. To leave a worthy legacy meant for generations to look back on and learn from. 

After feathers break free from the egg. 

But more than a single care was given upon warily approaching the figure in the secret studio least of all serving its original purpose of a bedroom, crawled away from the door to hide in the corner while clutching anxiously at freshly bleeding cuts. The knife was put aside, undeniably used and cruelly lying on the ground beside us.

Instead of directly speaking, we merely sat across from each other in a heavy hush wherein confidence was regained by calmly waiting for dark eyes to make contact. Which they eventually did, trembling bloody palms removing the white headphones given as a collective birthday present together with Joon and Hobi. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’ Regardless of knowing what was meant, locks nevertheless tilted to the side in feigned wonder because any direct reference to the difficult situation would lock the oppressed musician up immediately.

And invite the cruel blade upon leaving. 

‘For being so fucking worthless. For making you come all the way here, just to see this good-for-nothing criminal.’ Unjust cracks appeared evident in the barely composed raspy voice of salt-streaked tears. Crimson fingertips plucked at baggy clothes concealing the frame that had become ghastly thinner due to the stress placed upon young shoulders forced to see dreams burn over and over again. 

As always, helpless heavy-weighing playfulness was resorted to in the quiet hope of brightening the mood enough to break through the impenetrable walls which are always built when Yoongi is put down. ‘Shut up.’

Colourless irises, the passion sucked out of them until all they knew was how to cry, looked up in a sharp sneer. Or so it wanted to be, but could not due to an inner voice constraining the harshest negativity which turned the expression grave rather than judgemental. ‘It’s true, Y/N. You know it is.’

‘No, it’s not.’

A shift of subject made it more than clear the current topic did no longer serve any purpose, completely disregarding the smeared headphones and fresh cuts. Curiously, it changed to inquire about the well-being of the equally, albeit not to the same degrees, abused boy with whom often arguments were started merely because of being followed. Followed by the one who looked up to him, the rebel who will one day fully make the right decision and flee from beneath this harming roof permanently. ‘How’s Tae?’

A resigned sigh gave into the shift reluctantly, a tiny sliver of gladness spreading warmth throughout the limbs grown cold at the miserable sight and calming a rapidly beating heart unable to not worry about the wounds. ‘Bruised ribs, split lip, a cut on his cheek and an ugly bruise beneath the left eye.’

‘Please tell me he’s crashing at Namjoon’s.’

‘He is, as always. Mended for as far as possible and asleep.’

‘Good.’ Absently, as if drifting off into the forcefully created crumbled world once more, Yoongi nodded while repeating the confirmation under sharp breath. ‘That’s good.’

‘You, on the other hand, aren’t doing so great.’ It could not be helped, the dark carmine droplets staining ashen sweatpants creating hideous murky brown stains could not be ignored. Ugly yet alluring ghosts tempting the eye into being looked at. ‘You could have come to the train yard.’

The subtle suggestion resulted in the habitual denial of all help, any former softness sharpened like a dagger and flowing from a snarling tongue. ‘I’m fine. Just go.’

‘Where’s the first-aid kit?’ It had always been part of the dynamic, ignoring what the composer said in favour of a better outcome or serve as the company that was wanted but the wish of had never been explicitly stated. Withal, the guardian angel would triumph once more due to the trump card of iron determination, speaking in a tone that would not let anything of the pain due to the confrontation with self-destruction filter through. 

‘Go.’ Sullenness preceded, as per habit, the fierceness of the tiger beneath the skin. Stained fingers moulded into fists gripping at oversized clothes, trembling with rage but trying incredibly hard to contain it to not do something to regret in the second after rashness. 

‘Where?’ The characteristic raised sarcastic eyebrow was not appreciated, still only so on very few occasions nowadays. 

‘Just fucking go!’

The lashing out would have chased away any of the other guys, but not the girl merely scoffing at the show both minds knew was nothing except fakery. ‘Have it your way. I’ll look for it myself.’

As expected, it was stored away in the lower compartment of the bathroom sink adjacent to the small bedroom, thus leading to the swift return to a cherry-haired tiger meticulously observing every movement from a safe spot. Withal, without shrinking as if wanting to melt into the scenery. Instead, he stared on in wonder of the help coming to the rescue of both a friend and a precious bond.

‘Give me your arm.’ No response at first, even at the beckoning hand any other might mistake for being impatient yet was all but that. It was desperate, frightened to death by the flowing carmine. ‘Yoongi, arm.’

Despite not stating it outright, the mere act of putting it in the cross-legged lap calmly without grumbling said more than words could at the moment. Henceforth, a tense though comfortable hush descended while cleaning the wounds after disinfecting them, checking up on an expression continuously returning to stoicism with every hiss. 

Notwithstanding, in spite of missing the change betraying bodily hurt that by no means outweighed the mental burden of both parties, there was a fascinated warmth in irises drained of life time and again as digits bandaged the visible part of the damage up.

‘There, that’s better.’ Glad hands put down the first-aid kit as the last freshly carved scar had been concealed by ivory linen, sighing in calming relief. All in all, it did not take long to patch the musician up but the pressure of time flowing away made the instance appear longer than it really had. 

‘Why?’ Furrowed brows regarded the first step to physical healing, almost as if uncomprehending of how it would help. Of course, it would not aid mental stability but it did allow for the rescue of a soul who would have gone too soon.

‘Because we’re friends and I won’t let you fall. I’d never let you down.’ Trembling in hesitance, the palm of a barely recovered from the shock voice reached out to a pale cheek, the thumb languid in caressing the denied tears away. ‘You’re an incredible musician, Yoongi. No matter what anyone says or whether you believe me, it’s true. We, the guys and I, think so. No, we know so.’

‘You speak of them as if they’re my friends too.’ Had the genuine broken persona living beneath the skin of the rebel kicked out of school been unknown to the girl sitting across from him on the floor, the end would have happened right then and there. However, the opposite was the truth and thus the sneering tone was disregarded in favour of establishing at least a sliver of conviction of reality.

Something to believe in. 

Something to hold on to. 

‘They are. They disregard the fact you don’t contact them at all because, as I said, they know you’re going to make it big someday. They still continue to support you. None of them has forgotten about you.’ Lips pursed in careful contemplation, calculating the impact of each word which wanted to be said without angering the only temporarily subdued tiger. Eventually, such an argument was formed in good faith. ‘And you haven’t forgotten about them either because you wouldn’t have asked after Tae if you had.’

‘Still, you’re the only one here.’ A pale palm folded perfectly over the one on the salt-streaked cheek, the broken dreamer leaning gratefully into the touch with lashes fluttered shut and a voice as if drifting off into slumber. A blissful place away from cruel reality. Away from here. ‘You’ve always been.’

‘That’s not tr-’ The protest was cut short by an unexpected kiss, lips meeting in soft urgency. A whirlwind of emotions kicked up at the suddenness of the action, Reason and Fancy at war due to never having thought the tiger would do such a thing. 

Nor expect to hear a new level of despair in the whisper temporarily breaking up the kiss, sounding strange as it was caught between genuine clarity and relieved sobbing begging to not be left behind. ‘It is. Only you love me.’

Thus, the truly vicious cycle began of coming to the rescue both mentally and physically only to end up in the sheets to fully calm down. See to it Yoongi can rest easy even while one heart falls deeper and deeper into chaotic love.

It has been for the past two years of denial.

But it cannot mean anything.

It should not.

Because, once it does, it becomes a passion.

A dream to pursue.

And that is forbidden and therefore it will shatter or be burned like music.

Until all there is left are merely ghosts.

The only type of changing the meetings of scared hearts have undergone is a shift in location after the rebel dared to run away again the day Jungkook almost ended it all on the edge of the highest skyscraper.

Barely in time could the youngest of the chaotic band be rescued, the man like an older brother pulling the maknae by the back of an ivory and rose checkered blouse and holding on to the boy until both had regained enough breath after spilling tears of frustrated relief. After all, Yoongi had sworn during the last meeting with the entire group beneath a nightly sparkling spring sky to be a support pillar because he knows what living while feeling useless is like, vouching to do so while Kook rested on his shoulder. Through the high-rising flickering amber flames of the fire pit, the two seemed content at last.

For a little while, everything was okay.

We would be fine.

Would be.

But tonight, on the roof of the abandoned warehouse in the harbour where on the lower floor stands a dusty brown piano, we are not. The damaged knuckles and chafed skin beneath sullen irises tells of barely escaping another arrest after being kicked out a bar again and drunkenly searching for a fight, the scent of cigarettes indicating music has been burned again because the pieces were not good enough.

They never are.

Not to society.

But, to the girl approaching a wild tiger, they are everything.

Though the producer is blind to see it.

‘Yoongi?’ No reaction to the greeting comes as the heavy door to the roof closes and bordeaux Puma sneakers pad with a heavy heart over the asphalt still warm due to the day’s heat. They come to a halt a mere step away from the brooding tiger. ‘You never answered me over text and make me come all the way out here to get a response.’

‘Does it matter?‘ Without so much as a sideways glance, entwined damaged slender fingers maintain a steady melancholic gaze over the dark quiet waters of the harbour. A mocking grin tugs at the corners of the mouth but does not form completely, essentially as joyless as the denied dreamer.

 ‘It does! It fucking does!’

For once, please believe me when I tell you that you’re not nothing.

‘To who, hm?’ At last, colourless irises grace a worried soul with a challenging look but at least attention is pulled enough to actually listen and not simply hear. 

‘To the guys.’ A palm slaps against a rapid beating heart in a constricted chest as lips tremble and a cracking voice rises in volume. ‘To me.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘No, it’s not. We care, Yoongi, all of us.’ The last bit of distance is breached as a hand naturally folds over a frozen shoulder clad in a military green jacket, resting there without being violently shrugged off. 

A sign of listening. 

And thus the argument is pursued on a calmer and more steady yet equally urgent tone. ‘What about Jungkook? You promised to be his supporting pillar. Taehyung is over at Joon’s again, beaten up by his dad and you know it hurts you. Just as much as it hurts us.’ 

Upper arms are enveloped as briefly locked gazes break up, ashen strands hanging low in stubborn ignoring of the guardian angel crouching in front of them. ‘Us, Yoongi. The Bangtan Boys and me. Our family.’

‘I have no family. They were the first to destroy it all.’ Regardless of being unable to see it, lips are undoubtedly pursed in a fight to prevent new tears from falling. Woven digits tremble in barely suppressed crimson nicotine anger, vision blurring with tormenting memories of refusal. 

‘But we build it up together, didn’t we? You know you aren’t-’

‘Shut up.’ An arm lashes out to undo any contact, the impact of the action causing a fall backwards. Nothing but agonizing exhaustion radiates off the snarl on the handsome face that has become loved as more than a mere friend. 

Even while it extorts another for pleasure.

A means to forget.

It means nothing. 

‘I’m tired of speaking. Tired of thinking. We both know where this goes anyway.’ Each sentence is accentuated by a firm demanding kiss sealing off any chance of protest after being roughly helped onto two unsteady feet, the tables turned as it now are the arms of somebody trying to help which are grabbed tightly. 

Held dear and cherished in an incomprehensible manner.

But it is better than nothing. 

‘We can’t keep doing this.’ Had this been pure desire, the shape pressing hotly against the thigh would have been appreciated in a whole different way. Interpreted in a manner not remotely close to the reality of us because it is not sensual wanton craving.

It is pent-up frustration coming to a boiling point.

Fruitless.

A wandering ghost.

A heap of ashes. 

‘Shut up.’ The hands creating an abyss by pushing against a sturdy chest are given other purpose. Nevertheless, the meaning of the distance remains: foolishly to be able to be filled with sincerity. 

One hand is placed on the hip and the other below, simulating a laughable imitation of actual craving as another kiss adds to the poor fancy. ‘Just do what you’re told for once.’

Lips connect once more in saltwater carrying broken wishes and all the dreams that cannot be because of emotions warring with ideals, the correct way of life stained by nicotine and the sharp yet sweet tang of cheap soju. 

Trembling fingers envelop damaged cheeks as slender musically gifted hands tug at the edge of pants, beckoning them to lie down before undoing the belt fastening bleached ripped jeans only to be warmly welcomed again by the palms that only get to hold the face they love in this repeated loveless lovemaking. Knowing the impatience of the tiger, any restrictions to allowing the heated wantonness pressed against the thigh earlier have been removed before wiping away returned tears and lovingly caressing ashen brown locks.

Don’t get your hopes up. It won’t mean anything. It’s just a means of comfort.

Everything is familiar, a piece of the past tainted by crimson and smoke to cling to. 

The warmth spreading throughout as separate souls effortlessly become one, unprotected in wordlessness and thus letting actions say all that tongues cannot. 

The speed of snapping hips, uncaring about pleasure and merely wanting to fuck the pain away. 

The agony of the tug on each tendon keeping the heart inherently belonging to the occasional groan breaking through heavy breaths whispering into the side of the neck. 

The urban scent of cigarettes, ashes and blood.

The possessive iron-like grip on the waist, desperate to be grounded in the moment or simply an anchor into this world while the mind it belongs to tries to flee.

The chase after temporary oblivion together, though one soul remains a step behind to not frighten the other into love.

After all, it has no meaning.

None of this.

It is a ghost we keep.

Preventing us from finding happiness together.

The chance to hear three simple words spill at least once before or after a troubled mind finds brief peace in the arms of the woman he said, no, knows loves him. Nevertheless, Yoongi cannot return the affection.

Cruelly, the hope remains even while lying on the warm concrete, the heat seeping through dishevelled clothes covering the upper part of the body, and embracing the musical genius drifting somewhere in a pleasant ignorant limbo. The same state of being that lashes turned to a beautiful sparkling sky did not reach again and never will during these meetings. Still, it is not minded for this is a more meaningful type of contentment.

Simply lying here among the ashes. 

But it cannot mean anything.

It should not.

Because, once it does, it becomes a passion.

A dream to pursue.

And that is forbidden and therefore it will shatter or be burned like music.

Until all there is left are merely ghosts.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Keit-AI! Tomoyuki x Seiko Chapter 20: Hook, Line, and Sinker

The secret behind the issue between Tomoyuki Yamamoto and Aya Fubuki.

The rest of the chapters of my original story based on a plot from 4chan are available here. Enjoy.

First | Previous | Next

For what it was worth, Tomoyuki "Cherry Boy" Yamamoto found a way to return the favor to (Alternate Universe) Seiko "Amazon Queen" Okamoto for her thoughtful birthday gift to him.

The best birthday gift he ever got. A trailer for a film that didn't exist in his universe. Seen only by him within his reality.

The trailer for Akira Kurosawa's "Ran". The legendary director's (unintentional) version of William Shakespeare's "King Lear".

What he was about to send to Seiko was in a sense his "White Day" gift for her "Valentine's Day" chocolate.

A return gift of gratitude. A downloaded video from YouTube Japan.

"Hey, Cherry Boy. What's this?" she texted him back.

"Just open the file," he texted in return.

She then texted, "Boo. I thought it's a round or two from Pacquiao- Mayweather, but it's just another one of your Kurosawa film trailers!"

Huh. Maybe he should've sent her a Pac-May clip. Maybe later. "I'll just send you video highlights of it or even their future rematch when it happens. Maybe even on your birthday."

"There's gonna a rematch?! Sweet!" she cheered, only to ask, "So what did you send me?"

"Send it to him. To me. The other me," he answered. "I swear to you, Tomoyuki will love it. I know I do."

She watched the whole thing. All one minute and thirteen seconds of it.

"Cherry Boy, you're a genius! This is the best birthday gift for Tomoyuki since, you know, he canceled on our proposed movie date and all."

Ah. Of course.

AU Miku ended up giving AU Tomoyuki the cold shoulder because he liked AU Seiko's present more than hers, so to make it up to the Class Rep, his other self nixed his date with the Amazon Queen.

Another love triangle had formed in another dimension.

At least the other Okamoto had a love triangle to speak of. He was definitely still in the "Friend Zone" (sorry, Miku) with the Amazon Queen in his universe, her proposal for a pity date aside.

The Amazon Queen that didn't love him as much as this other" her did.

"Sorry," he texted back, pushing his disturbing thoughts at the back of his mind. "But you know what they say about love and war."

"Fair enough, but what do I tell Cherry Boy when I send this video to him? He'll have questions for sure!"

Nodding to no one in particular, Yamamoto replied, "Tell him it's the long-lost and extremely rare alternate trailer for Kagemusha starring Katsu Shintaro instead of Nakadai Tatsuya."

***

Keit-AI! Tomoyuki x Seiko

An Anime-Inspired Original Story from 4chan's /a/ Board by Abdiel

Original Idea by Hataki.

The mystery behind Aya will finally be revealed.

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 20: Hook, Line, and Sinker

***

Meanwhile, the Miku Machida in Tomoyuki's universe gave him the opposite of the cold shoulder (A "hot" shoulder? Rubbing shoulders?).

Just like good ol' times, they were again together like white on rice. Talking about Sci-Fi things mixed with cool science facts while walking to class. Again fueling rumors of them being together.

"...Oh, oh, oh! Here's another evidence of the Mandela Effect. Most people remember the Monopoly Man as having no monocle, right? But when you take a look at the box of the board game, he definitely does have a monocle! Spooky, right?" she told him.

Ah, so they were talking about the Mandela Effect again. Misquotes and popular misconceptions mistaken for evidence of parallel worlds and traveling through them.

Except in Tomoyuki's case, the Mandela Effect was all too real.

He patted her head like she was a little kid and smiled at her. "It's very spooky," he said, which made her pout cutely, cross her arms, and turn away from him.

"Don't patronize me!" she said with a harrumph.

Damn, she was so cute when she was annoyed.

Jokingly bullying her was almost worth a taste of the cold shoulder that the (probably jealous) AU Miku was currently giving AU Tomoyuki.

Or maybe he felt like tempting fate for once.

Thankfully, Miku forgot his transgression the next minute, bringing up, "Do you remember how the candy 'KitKat' doesn't have a dash between Kit and Kat? Well, it does! It's actually spelled Kit-Kat"

"Hey, you're right," he said, checking out the nearby snack bar and seeing the Kit-Kat logo having the dash when he remembered otherwise.

She grins. "Amazing, isn't it? I'm telling you, parallel universes exist!"

'You don't have to tell me twice,' he inwardly quipped, taking note that in AU Seiko's universe, it was probably the other way around.

In her universe, KitKat bars probably didn't have dashes and the Monopoly Man most likely didn't have a monocle. Along with other weird things like Michael Jackson, who was brown-skinned, bleaching his skin Caucasian white and having legal issues regarding pedophilia (allegedly).

The old Yamamoto would've been over the moon to have Miku as a best friend, even to the point of fantasizing that they'd somehow end up being more than just friends in the future.

But something changed between them from first year to second year.

That tall, beautiful, athletic, and tomboyish something... or someone... barreled over between them, slinging each of her long arms over their nearest shoulders.

"Hey, Nerds. Still talking about that egghead stuff with the black president guy that's not Obama?"

"It's the Mandela Effect and he's not a president in our universe," reminded Machida. "Here, Mandela died in prison, serving as a symbol of the South African revolution. But so many people wanted him to be president, they all swore he became one. Or maybe it's a memory we had from a different timeline!"

"U-huh. And maybe in a different dimension, Mayweather is a knockout puncher with exciting fights under his belt," the Amazon Queen said, saying the most Seiko thing possible. "I appreciate the man's talent, but boy howdy, am I not looking forward to Mayweather-Pacquiao II."

Tomoyuki then made a mental note to not reveal the actual results of May-Pac to AU Seiko, neglecting to tell her earlier of how initially exciting but ultimately boring the actual fight ended up to be.

The Cherry Boy then averted his gaze from Seiko, the... former object of his affection. The sight of her made his heart ache and long for someone else who was like her but wasn't, making him feel guilty for doing so.

Maybe it was for the best that Okamoto wasn't all that into him after all.

So should he abandon his harebrained scheme to get Seiko and Kazuhito "Yankee" Sugata together, like Megumi Minagata suggested?

Not necessarily.

He'd still do it, but this time expecting a more realistic outcome of either heartbreak or a long-delayed hookup between the childhood sweethearts.

Without unrealistic expectations of the Amazon Queen going for the unlikely third option.

It was the least he could do for the alternate universe counterpart of the girl he loved.

***

Things also went back to normal in Class 2B. Somewhat.

"Hey, New-Half (Trans Woman)," called out Kazuhito (who finally decided to not skip classes) to Seiko.

Okamoto shouted, "WHO ARE YOU CALLING A NEW-HALF!?" followed by a smack on his face. "Stupid Furyou-kun!"

Then the rest of the class began hooting and hollering at them for "acting like a married couple" who could help Japan with its population slump.

All talk of a potential pair-up or even love triangle between the Cherry Boy and the Amazon Queen faded once the heartthrob Sugata finally came back with his usual "married couple" shenanigans with Okamoto.

"As if Cherry Boy ever had a chance with the Amazon Queen while the Yankee is around!" was probably their shared sentiment of the situation.

They all just presumed Yamamoto was friendzoned (as usual), although they were hedging their bets that he'd score a pity date or two with their Iincho (Class Rep) at least.

"Please, you two! Stop fighting! Math Class is about to start," pleaded the mousy Class Rep in her usual adorable, bespectacled way that made Tomoyuki fall for her back in first year.

However, rather than scheme on how to get Machida and Sugata closer together to make Okamoto jealous enough to cross her Rubicon and confront her childhood friend about her long dormant feelings with him, the Cherry Boy started doodling and writing something else at the back of a dog-eared, beat-up notebook.

He couldn't stop thinking about Akira Kurosawa's Ran.

He wanted to write more about it. Research about its connection with King Lear even though, according to AU Seiko, it was a coincidental comparison made by western (foreign) media at best.

For the first time in a long while, he felt inspired to go after his passion and hobbies rather than try to appeal to the interests of others in a bid to "belong" in a clique or a long-term relationship with a girl.

For the longest time, he had been trying too hard to fit in with his peers. Only the closest people in his life know about his passion for writing and movies.

Like the glasses-wearing neighborhood girl he ended up being best friends with. Or, lately, both versions of Seiko Okamoto.

When he was under the mistaken belief that the only way he could improve on himself was to get a girlfriend rather than the other way around, he tended to ingratiate himself to whomsoever he attempted to woo.

In the case of his first crush Yukari Goto, he started taking the late train and gave her a hand whenever her klutziness or ditziness got her into trouble.

In the case of Aya Fubuki, he went to dates with her in all sorts of restaurants even to the point of maxing out his allowance and trying to find a job to supplement his dates, only for her to deny the dates ever took place.

In the case of Mana Otonashi, he really should've figured out he was just her plaything all along when she made her own mother tell him to stop calling her. How embarrassing.

In the case of Miku Machida, he got told hard regarding his clinginess and unrealistic expectations as a "Nice Guy". Even after that, their friendship persisted mostly because he absorbed her otaku knowledge like a sponge until he was able to decipher the "foreign language" she spoke whenever they were around each other.

Finally, in the case of his universe's Seiko Okamoto, he tried using AU Seiko's sports knowledge to better relate with her, only for it to backfire since this was info from a parallel world and not their world.

No one wonder people treated him like a doormat with no true friends to speak of. He really was a try-hard poser, wasn't he?

He made up for his lack of personality by attempting to incorporate the interests and quirks of others so that they'd like him better. Whether he was making friends or wooing girlfriends.

It was only with AU Seiko that he felt he could be himself and showcase the cinemaphile nut and wannabe writer he really was. No other woman made him feel comfortable in his skin like she did.

***

As the Cherry Boy put in the finishing touches to the outline of his new personal passion project (researching about what happened to his universe's Ran and writing his own version of the unfinished work with what little info he'd gotten from AU Seiko so far), he found a letter in his bag.

Curious. Who even gave out letters in this day and age of cellphones, email, and chatrooms?

Although it would've been charming if he and AU Okamoto were communicating through transdimensional mailboxes rather than transdimensional keitai (mobile phones). Just like in the South Korean film "Il Mare" (also known as "Siworae") or its Hollywood remake, "The Lake House".

He opened the envelope and then was greeted with the smell of a long-forgotten flowery scent.

He read its contents. The more he read, the more his heart sank to the pit of his stomach. Probably drowning in stomach acid to boot.

Oh shit. Not this again.

Tomoyuki hastily stuffed the letter in his bag, unwilling to humiliate himself in front of Class 2B by cluelessly reading the letter in front of them.

His traumatic experience with Yukari Goto and her mistaken love text to him that was meant for Kazuhito Sugata was still fresh in his mind. Even after all this time.

Speaking of which, Goto's best friend Aya Fubuki was the one who sent him the letter.

The same type of letters she used to slip into his bag or shoe locker when they were freshmen.

The letters she denied giving to him when he confronted her about the dates she swore they never had.

Yeah, he was still kind of sore about that.

What was going on? What was she trying to do?

Miku noticed him and the letter he hid. She was about to ask him about it, but he gave her a begging look to keep things to herself.

Thankfully, his best friend took the hint and turned her attention back to her notebook full of her own doujinshi (self-published fan comics) ideas.

Had she called attention to the letter so that the likes of Matsuda were to read it to the class, the Cherry Boy would've gotten a repeat of the embarrassment he suffered with Yukari that led to him getting his infamous moniker.

He could just imagine the jaw-jacking his classmates would give him right now.

'Oooh! Is that a love letter? Did Cherry Boy get a love letter from the Class 2C Iincho? MASAKA (IMPOSSIBLE)!'

'Hey, hey! Is our own cute li'l Cherry Boy forming his own harem just like his idol, Sugata?'

'Don't be absurd. That's Fubuki from Class 2C. The same girl who publicly called him out on spreading false rumors of them dating. There's no way she'd date that liar's ass now!'

'What is with him and all the class reps he keeps going after? Does he have an iincho fetish or something? He even tried stalking our dear Seito Kaicho (Student Body President) through harassing phone calls!'

'He's such a desperate loser I bet the letter is telling him to leave Fubuki alone!'

Naturally, the last one to speak would've been Matsuda. Still the asshole as always, but he was an asshole with a point.

He sighed. He should let sleeping dogs lie. Leave the mercurial (and probably bipolar) Aya to her own devices. However, maybe she sent him the "love" letter to apologize for her forgetting about the dates they had.

...Yeah right. As if that would ever happen. She at best tolerated him and as little as a few days ago, she hated his guts.

Still, he was curious as to why Fubuki would send him such a letter. Knowing what he knew about her now (as if it was the first time he'd ever met her), it seemed... out of character for her to do this.

Wouldn't she confront him rather than send him a letter? Then again, she couldn't even muster the courage to send Kazuhito himself a love letter, so how much less him?

But Tomoyuki wasn't Sugata though. She'd have no reason to be embarrassed about him. She made it abundantly clear she never had any feelings for him.

'Oh, and I'm supposed to believe that some desperate jerk I barely interacted with who spread rumors that I'm dating him is telling me that Sugata-kun is dating Miku-chan, his latest girlfriend prospect, out of the kindness of his heart? Reeeally now?' was the sentiment she had when Tomoyuki first told him about the Yankee and the Class 2B Rep.

She trusted him as far as she could throw him. They made up eventually when he took a bullet for her, but they at best had a tenuous "acquaintanceship" that could break at the slightest hint of betrayal.

She didn't trust him. She acted like she barely knew him, despite all their dates that she would not acknowledge ever existed.

In fact, Yamamoto was starting to believe that Aya really didn't date him, making him doubt that the dates he had with her were real.

It almost reminded him of his initial situation with AU Seiko, with her calling and confessing her love for him while the real Seiko (correctly) claimed she herself never called him.

What if they—Tomoyuki and Fubuki—were both right? What if he had dates with an alternate universe version of the Class 2C Iincho while the in-universe Aya got the blowback from their rumored budding relationship?

What if he was dating the AU version of Aya all along?

Hell, he should be writing about this plot twist instead of making a script treatment of Ran, to be honest.

Inwardly, he waved the suggestion off, rationalizing that the parallel worlds thing didn't work that way. His heart skipped a beat at the prospect of dating AU Okamoto in the flesh, though.

He'd love it if he could actually figure out how the AU thing really worked.

Nevertheless, his curiosity got the better of him as he decided to meet up on the indicated time and place on the letter after school.

Appearances aside, this was obviously no love letter situation like with Sugata. It wasn't as if Aya was off to confess her love to him or anything.

***

After class, in a meeting place only Tomoyuki and Aya knew about (the Peninsula Bar where they once had Mongolian Barbecue)...

"...I apologize for lying about our dates to our classmates. I was so embarrassed that they found out that I threw you under the bus. If you would be so kind, would you go out with me again?"

That was just about the last thing Yamamoto expected Fubuki to tell him.

But she really did it. She really told him that. The absolute madwoman.

While bowing in apology, no less.

What was going on? Was she high? Was this what Miku meant by tsundere? An insane girl who had the most extreme mood swings possible? 'Bitches be crazy!'

"Wait, wait, wait. Let me get things straight. You intentionally lied to everyone about our dates and now you're asking for another date? And aren't you after Sugata instead of me?" he asked.

"Sugata already rejected me. That ship has sailed." Aya brushed her hair to the side and looked away from Tomoyuki's gaze before bowing her head and looking up at his face with doe eyes. "A-Are you mad at me?"

Unbelievable. It was like he was talking to another person altogether.

Didn't she cheer him on when it came to wooing Seiko and whatnot? What happened to that Aya? Did she forget or was she testing his resolve somehow?

Maybe that AU Aya theory of his wasn't so far off after all. Or maybe it was more of a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde kind of scenario.

Was this really the same Aya that AU Seiko described as "earnest"?

Tomoyuki paced around, took a deep breath, and exhaled. He'd handle this like an adult.

"Yeah, I'm upset. But I also realize if you're ashamed to even admit that we dated, then maybe you're not all that into me after all. You did me a favor. You helped me stop acting so desperate for love all this time."

Aya tilted her head and furrowed her eyebrows. "W-What do you mean, Yamamoto-kun? Won't you forgive me at all? Can't we make things work out?" she asked, batting her eyelashes at him.

It was his turn to bow back to Fubuki, remembering how she cheered him on, telling him to go big or go home with wooing Seiko Okamoto.

To no longer be so clingy and halfhearted with his pursuit of girl crushes like in the cases of Yukari, herself, Mana, and Miku. To no longer serve as any girl's doormat.

If she were testing him and his resolve, then this was his answer.

"I accept your apology, Fubuki. But I have to apologize myself. I'm in love with someone else."

He had to be completely honest. Like AU Seiko said, Aya was an earnest kind of girl who responded to actions instead of words and empty promises.

***

He didn't know what to expect after "rejecting" Aya's proposal to date again.

A shrug and a pat on the back on the back would be nice.

He didn't really think she'd take it so badly. After all, she survived Sugata's rejection fine.

Also, he knew she didn't really love him all that much and she had a bigger crush on the Yankee than she ever did him.

So why the heck was she crying?

"H-Hey, calm down!" Tomoyuki said, only to flinch when Aya looked at him with fire from her red eyes. Ah, now this was more like the Class 2C Iincho he knew and "loved" (or rather, tolerated).

She didn't heed his request though, covering her face with her hands and sobbing from behind them.

Well, this was definitely a first for Yamamoto.

Usually, he was the one who felt like crying, being dumped repeatedly by all his pretty not-girlfriends (because according to Matsuda, his standards were unrealistically high for a nondescript guy).

"...W-Was it Seiko? Your class rep? The one that you confessed your love to and I recorded?" she sobbed.

That was weird phrasing. "My class rep Miku friendzoned me a long time ago. Also, didn't you play that recording on Seiko's behalf?"

"Oh right. The recording. That's what I meant. Seiko. The Amazon Queen."

She blinked her tears back and did an inquisitive head-tilt on the Cherry Boy.

"You're in love with the Amazon Queen? You don't have a chance. She's joined to the hip with your Yankee classmate!"

"Sh-Shut up," he said, crossing his arms and turning away. His heart not as indignant as he let on.

Speak of the (she-)devil, Tomoyuki turned his head in time to meet the eyes of Seiko, drinking water across the table away from them.

Eh?

She had the "clever disguise" of wearing shades and a baseball cap indoors. She looked more suspicious than if she didn't have the disguise.

The Amazon Queen then choked on her glass of water and turned away, hiding her face with the menu.

...Wait. What?

***

To stop Aya from crying any further, Tomoyuki appeased her by buying her a late lunch (or was it an early dinner?) that afternoon at the restaurant with what extra cash he made from his part-time job at a convenience store.

He then excused himself to go to the bathroom, eyeing Seiko all the while from behind Aya's back.

To his relief, the Amazon Queen took the hint and soon followed after him rather than wait for him to confront her at her table.

She was quick on the uptake.

"...What are you doing here?" he asked at the hallway leading to the doors to the restrooms.

"I should ask you the same question!" she ping-ponged his question back at him.

"...Aya gave me a letter in my bag, telling me to come here and stuff," he said, his eyes darting away at the taller girl. "What about you?"

"Miku-chin gave me a letter addressed to me, telling me to come here."

"Machida told you about this... meeting?" he asked before wincing at the look Seiko gave him over his own weird phrasing.

"No, the letter is from... Aya, apparently. But Miku got it from her."

"That's... weird. Did Machida read it too?"

"I dunno, Cherry Boy. She just gave it to me because it had my name on it."

"What's the letter doing with her?" Tomoyuki asked. "Did Fubuki want Machida to know about the meeting too? What did the letter say?"

"The letter told me to meet y'all here. I couldn't understand the directions, so I just moseyed along and followed you all the way to this restaurant instead."

"So you stalked me?" Tomoyuki teased Seiko, forgetting for a minute who he was talking to. Her voice reminding him of... someone else from another world.

"'AS IF', YOU IDIOT! Don't flatter yourself!"

Forgetting for a minute who she was talking to as well, the Amazon Queen gut-punched the Cherry Boy as though he were Kazuhito Sugata instead.

"Whoops. Sorry. My hand slipped."

The two stared at each other for a minute then laughed.

Afterwards, Tomoyuki ended up with a coughing fit and Seiko had to slap his back several times to help him recover.

"T-Thanks."

"S'alright. But seriously though, why are you on a date with Aya-chin?"

"Wait, when did this turn into a date? She asked me to come here to tell me something!"

"But you're feeding her right now and she just asked you out." She pointed to her ear. "I overheard."

Yamamoto crossed his arms and smirked. "Ha! Finally, I got a witness. Told'ya we dated! See what I have put up with last year? It was her word against mine that we dated!"

"You really dated?" Seiko couldn't help but repeat. "Oh yeah. That's right. You got a horrible rep because Aya-chin told everyone you were spreading bad rumors about her."

"RIGHT? You just saw Fubuki confess to me and you still don't believe it!" he ranted.

Biting her lip, Okamoto looked at him then at Aya from across the table, eating by herself.

"I dunno, Cherry Boy. She must've had a reason for doing this. Otherwise, this is quite unlike her." She appended, "B-But don't misunderstand! I didn't believe you were spreading lies about her either! Why else would I be friends with you? I just think this is all a big misunderstanding."

He'd normally storm off at this point, having people believe Fubuki over him, but this time around he was inclined to agree.

Unless her tsundere inclinations bordered on being clinically bipolar, the Aya who played his confession to Seiko via cellphone voice recorder was not the same Fubuki whom he suspected gave Okamoto and Machida the heads up on their non-date to ruin their perception of him.

Then, to Tomoyuki's surprise, the Amazon Queen suggested, "Y'know what? Why don't you go on a date with her today anyway?"

"WHAT? Are you crazy? I told her I already have my eyes for someone else!"

Yamamoto looked Seiko in the eyes as he said this, which made both of them look away from each other, blushing afterwards.

Seiko cleared her throat. "No, no. It's not a date-date. Just a fake date to see what Aya-chin is up to."

"A-Are you serious?" asked Tomoyuki. He didn't like where this was going.

***

By the time he returned to their table, Aya had the strangest, hugest (smuggest) grin on her face.

Did she know that Seiko was there, watching them? 'What are you planning, Fubuki?' thought Tomoyuki.

He didn't want to keep up a facade just to ruin Seiko's positive impression of one of Machida's friends, but Fubuki ended up cutting him off the pass.

"Hey, hey! After we're done eating, let's go to the arcades like we used to," she told him, and his plan of coming clean ended then and there, the words of protest dying in his throat.

And long story short, they ended up at a nearby arcade, with Okamoto following them close behind.

What was even going on anymore?

'...Eeeeh.'

Under the watchful gaze of Seiko, Tomoyuki ended up doing what he always did in arcades: Play a fighting game and die at the third stage.

"Dammit," Yamamoto said after the CPU King hit another 10-hit combo on his Eddie Gordo from Tekken insert-sequel-number-here.

So much for Eddie working against even experienced players with just button mashing. The computer A.I. couldn't care less.

Same thing happened with an old Street Fighter III: Third Strike arcade cabinet at the back. Got knocked out fighting Sean with Akuma. He then popped a blister on his left middle finger from jiggling the joystick while mashing buttons all the while.

The only fighting game he could probably beat was Karate Do on the Famicom, and that game sucked. Or Yie Ar Kung Fu. Which also sucked.

By the way, those were games in old cartridges that he got as hand- me-downs from his cousins along with an old Family Computer.

He expected Aya to fare worse than him, only for his ego to take an even worse beating than the characters he played in Tekken and Street Fighter.

Aya had a crowd form behind her as she crushed every challenger she faced off against in Tekken with just one quarter.

Well damn. Who knew that the studious Class Rep of Class 2C was an avid gamer?

Meanwhile, on her part, Seiko decided to bide her time with Dance Dance Revolution. Followed by foozball against a grade schooler. Followed by attempting to wreck the mechanical punch pad on the Sonic Blast Man (a game that measured punching power) cabinet.

Huh. He could've sworn he heard that Taito recalled all cabinets of the punching game due to the injuries it caused or something. Or maybe that was just him misremembering/getting false memories care of the Mandela Effect.

Or maybe it was even possible that in AU Seiko's universe, the game was recalled even though in his own universe, it wasn't. 'Who knows?'

A bead of sweat dripped on Tomoyuki's forehead as Okamoto wandered to a nearby billiards hall just beside the arcade, seemingly forgetting herself and why she went to the arcade in the first place.

'S-Seiko-chan...'

Speaking of people forgetting themselves, Aya stopped her winning streak short, handed her character off to some kid in the crowd to let him play, and grabbed hold of Yamamoto's arm.

Tomoyuki gulped, distracted by the smoothness of the 2C Iincho's skin and the softness of her... chest. "Um, welcome back?"

"Hey, hey! Cherry... I mean, Yamamoto-kun!" she corrected herself, her finger circling around the Cherry Boy's chest. "Can you win me a prize at the claw machine? Pretty please?"

"Er... I-I'll try," Yamamoto said, knowing that he'd fail. Still wondering what Aya's "deal" was.

As he predicted, he was terrible at the claw machine game. Unable to pick up one stuffed bunny or even a Doraemon. It'd be cheaper to buy the doll at a gift shop rather than pick it up through crane.

In the background, Aya cheered him on.

He had doubts in regards to the sincerity of her cheering in light of her betrayal of him, but it sure harkened back to their own dates where she'd do the same thing.

So he kept buying quarters. And trying. And failing. But he had a girl cheering him on, so he didn't mind losing so much.

"You can do it, Yamamoto-kun! Just like ol' times!" Aya told him.

'Ol' times...?' he thought.

From there, the Cherry Boy blinked and remembered how one of their first dates had played out like this.

With him attempting and never getting a doll and Aya (currently the Student Council VP but was once the Student Council Treasurer) laughing at him all the while.

"Oh, for the love of Kami-sama! LET ME, CHERRY BOY!" huffed a reddened, cap-wearing, and shades-sporting Seiko before taking the crane controls and picking up the Doraemon doll herself.

"...." Tomoyuki exclaimed. Silently.

The Amazon Queen handed the doll to Aya, only to realize too late what she'd done. "Er..."

Fubuki bowed at Seiko and said, "Thanks for the help, but I want my date to get me a dolly. Not you, Mister."

"...M-Mister!?" said the tall Amazon Queen with a sneer, her hand cocked back as if to slap the Class 2C Iincho.

"Uh, of course! Coming right up, Fubuki!" said Tomoyuki, who inserted another token only to waste it again by losing immediately. "Dammit."

Unable to help herself, the "disguised" Seiko got a hold of Yamamoto's hands and instructed him how to play the crane game.

"Now listen carefully, Cherry Boy. First, pick your target carefully. You've already played enough to get a feel of the claw, right?"

She then touched his hand, the softness of which surprised him, as she told him, "Try maneuvering the prize into a better position. This machine gives you enough time to position the claw, so take your time."

Tomoyuki gulped as the taller girl got too close to him. The smell of shampoo on her hair and the softness of her hands distracting him. Electrifying him.

Making him long for the softness of another her. A more "untouchable" version of her. From more than just far away.

Aya, on her part, put her hands on her waist and tapped her foot at the pair, sighing and clearing her throat loudly.

But they couldn't hear her. At all. As though they were trapped in another world. Their own universe. With no parallel universe versions of themselves to worry about.

"THERE! Right there, Cherry Boy!" said the Amazon Queen with her heaving chest cushioning Yamamoto's back like a chair's backrest. "Take it! Take it now! It's all yours, baby! Take 'em all!"

They soon formed a crowd of their own, with the guys and the girls blushing at the whole exchange.

Thanks to Seiko's teachings, Tomoyuki got to snag a whole bunch of plush toys in one go. He was about to deliver them en masse unto the slot when he noticed all the eyes on him and how suggestive the Amazon Queen looked with the way she helped wriggle his... joystick.

"AAAH!"

"Hey! Watch out! EEEEK! WATCH IT! KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF!"

There was a crisp slap followed by profuse apologies.

Yamamoto's hand slipped right into Seiko's chest in true harem protagonist fashion, which led to a reflexive, "BAKA FURYOU-KUN (STUPID YANKEE)!" and predictable violence from the Amazon Queen.

"I'm sorry! It's an accident! AN ACCIDENT! OWIE!"

"Ah! Cherry Boy! Sorry! Did I hit you too hard?"  

From there, the whole bunch of the stuff toys fell back into the bin rather than out the claw machine's slot.

All except one: An ugly-cute cartoon snail doll that had its tag snagged by the tip of the claw at the last second.

Tomoyuki's reddened face (due to Seiko's handprint on his cheek) turned pale blue in realization. He screwed up in the middle of showing off!

'...Eh? Wait a minute, why was I showing off anyway? And in front of Fubuki, of all people!'

Speaking of Fubuki, she took the snail doll he'd gotten for her, frowning in a way that made it look like she'd just tasted something sour. Or maybe bittersweet.

"...Thank you," she told him.

"Uh, no problem," he answered, scratching his cheek.

He then caught Aya giving the flustered Amazon Queen a quick glance before she gave him a quick peck on the same cheek he just scratched.

Not knowing what else to do, Tomoyuki turned and faced Seiko, who had a slack-jawed expression on her face.

And in the Cherry Boy's heart of hearts, he found himself hoping that it was jealousy that was written all over Okamoto's face.

Even though earlier, her fit of violence was something she did while remembering her real crush and childhood friend, Kazuhito Sugata.

With the cherubic smile of a fallen angel, Aya then whispered to Tomoyuki, "Come with me. I have one last thing I want to do before we end our date," before holding his hand and leading him out of the arcade... to a chorus of cheers by everyone who witnessed the exchange there.

Stupidly, his mind in a haze like the Cherry Boy that he was after being kissed by a girl, he followed right after Fubuki like a lost dog.

He couldn't stop glancing back at the Amazon Queen though, who had slumped down on the floor with the Doraemon doll in her hand, her cap dropping, revealing her (sexy) disheveled hair.

***

Before Tomoyuki realized what was happening, he found himself in front of a hotel.

A love hotel.

From there, his memory became a blur. A whooshing motion blur from a high-speed roller coaster ride.

He could barely make out any details of what was going on, his body going on autopilot.

This wasn't really happening, wasn't it?

Then they were at the front desk of a hotel.

He then found himself paying for a room on that hotel.

With a girl beside him. A cute girl. A beautiful vision of... beauty with hair as long as the day and black as the night. And legs that went on forever.

Granted, she was a girl with an obnoxious personality (or set of personalities), but she was still pretty. And a girl.

What was he talking about again?

Soon, they ended up on an elevator. Then they went to their room with the number indicated on the room keys.

Was this some sort of elaborate prank by Matsuda again? Damn, that bigheaded jock just wouldn't leave him alone, would he?

Wow, the room looked nice. He'd been in hotel rooms before, but only when he and his parents ended up vacationing on some beach resort or had to take short flights to Hokkaido.

Besides, those were airport or resort hotels. Not love hotels.

Did he mention he was staying in a hotel room with a pretty girl? That was a big "first" for him.

After being turned down flat by several girls, he was now about to... Oh baby.

He gulped, his throat suddenly feeling quite dry.

Realizing the implications of the situation, he sat down on the bed and thought things through.

Could it be? Was he finally about to graduate from being a Cherry Boy to a real man?

Wait, why was he with a pretty girl in a hotel room anyway? That was quite unlike him, the Virgin King of Class 2B.

Tomoyuki Yamamoto ending up in a love hotel sounded like a setup to a joke just short of a punch line.

Oh right, he was on a date with Aya. But why though? Why would any girl date him?

Hey, he wasn't that bad with girls. Sure, in his first year alone, he got rejected by not one, not two, not three, but four girls. All of whom belonged in the so-called Sugata Harem in one way or another.

He was a beggar who was a chooser, after all.

But he improved in the end, didn't he? He made friends with Miku Machida, made amends with both Aya Fubuki and Yukari Goto, and even Student Body President Mana Otonashi had started talking to him again.

He wasn't as awkward around women as he was last year. He graduated from the "Nice Guy" mode of thinking with the help of his best friend Miku.

So it was perfectly fine for him to end up in bed with a girl who originally rejected him, right?

He regrouped. He improved. He evolved. So he... deserved this. Right?

Hell, he even had the audacity to try and woo Sugata's childhood friend and the girl whom he was closest with in his harem, Seiko Okamoto.

He wanted the Amazon Queen so bad that, by fate, serendipity, or coincidence, he ended up with the phone number of her AU self.

That was how he was able to learn all about her. Warts and all. From another her from another universe.

Wait.

What the hell was he doing with Aya Fubuki if he was in love with Seiko Okamoto?

"...."

Oh no. Oh nooo. Oh nononono. Oh Kami-sama, what did he just do? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

His hands gripping his hair almost to the point of pulling them out by their roots, Tomoyuki paced around the nice hotel room. That he paid for.

What kind of a thirsty pervert was he?!

He then remembered the last thing Aya told him before he had his epiphany.

"You stay right there. I'm just going to take a shower."

'AAAAAAHHHHH!' he screamed internally, finally noticing the sound of the running water inside the hotel bathroom.

He could've stopped this at any time. He could've said no. But he didn't, and he'd gone past the threshold of refusal.

The point of no return, perhaps?

Wait, he could leave a note and say he had something to do. Uh, like his part-time job or something.

Maybe flaking out on her wasn't the best-laid plans (of mice and men), but... but... he had no other choice!

Also, why was she suddenly enamored over him after all these months she hated him enough to lie about them dating? Was this how tsundere acted? Seemed kind of psychotic to him!

The worst part was that, even if nothing happened to them in the hotel, the fact that he went in a hotel in the first place with her would probably be enough to ruin his chances with Seiko forever!

He was just about to write his note when he heard knocking on the door. Did Aya order room service? He had no money left for that!

Anyway, fingers crossed, he hoped against hope that Okamoto would believe him when he said that he followed Aya by accident into a love hotel and he had no intention of sleeping with her. Kinda.

And so understandably, he fell to the floor butt-first in surprise when he saw that it was Seiko who was on the other side of the door. Like an actor from Vaudeville doing a slapstick standup (or sit-down) routine.

"I-It's not what it looks like. I can explain..." he started, feeling like an unfaithful husband caught red-handed in a hotel room with his mistress by his wife. Even though he had no reason to think that way.

To his surprise, an unusually quiet Okamoto asked him, "So did you two do it already? Did she pop your cherry, Cherry Boy?"

Well now. Nice to see she was blunt like usual.

She then slapped her forehead and mumbled what sounded like curses to herself before apologizing and saying, "Look, it's none of my business. I don't even know what I'm doing here. I'm sorry for bothering you two lovebirds. I'm also sorry for doubting you when you said that you and Aya-chin used to date. Goes to show what I know, right?"

The contrite Amazon Queen bowed at Tomoyuki and started to leave when, by instinct, the Cherry Boy grabbed hold of her arm and said, "Wait. Don't leave. I'm... I'm actually glad you came."

To his surprise, that actually worked. Seiko stayed.

She walked back to the doorway as he noticed for the first time her cap that hid her head full of hair that was usually tied in a ponytail.

She looked positively tomboyish. Heart-achingly so.

"I... I just happened to follow Fubuki back to this hotel," was the explanation he came up with in short notice.

Goddamn, that sounded so stupid. Even though it was true.

He also wanted to say he thought it was a prank, but that sounded even more like a lie than what he just said, even though it was also true.

Why was he being so stupid anyway? It was because he was thinking with his dick! That was why! He followed a girl to a hotel room without question like the naive virgin that he was.

"U-huh. Completely by accident, huh?" Seiko couldn't help but smirk.

"I don't know what I was thinking!" Or so he said, although he knew exactly what he was thinking, and so did Okamoto. "But I haven't slept with Fubuki. At all. Nor do I have any intention to do so."

"Well, why not? This is your big chance, Cherry Boy," Seiko brought up his nickname for emphasis.

"B-Because, like I told her, I'm already in love with someone," he said, his eyes never leaving hers. Unafraid of the implications behind his words.

"So you went to a hotel room with her and paid for it?" was the retort that he waited for Seiko to shoot back at him, but she never said it.

Instead, she stared back him and nodded. "You'd break Miku-chin's heart if you went through with this."

Ugh. Not this again. "No, I'm not in love with Machida! I'm in love with...!"

He then slammed the door in front of the Amazon Queen's face by reflex when he heard the bathroom door open.

AHHH! Stupid, stupid, stupid!

And out came Aya, her skin glowing, her long hair sopping wet, her naked body wrapped in nothing but a towel. A rather short towel, at that.

He ended up with his back against the door, his eyes staring at everything else but Fubuki.

He had never seen a cleaner hotel full of fresh sheets, nicely decorated walls, a flat-screen television set, a refrigerator full of overpriced drinks, and a nice view of the city.

The bed cushion was soft, the pillows were pure stuffing as well, and even the nearby lamp was nice. It... tied up the whole room.

Nothing too fancy, but not bad. It was worth whatever it was that he paid for it. Maybe.

"I'm done with my shower," Fubuki stated the obvious, cat-smiling and batting her half-lidded eyes at the Cherry Boy, her normal personality pretty much doing a one-eighty.

"W-We shouldn't do this," Tomoyuki said, pulling at his collar.

"Do what?" teased the coy Aya, which seemed rather unbecoming of the normally straight-laced Class Rep of Class 2C. "Don't get cold feet on me right now, Yamamoto-kun."

"I-I told you, I'm already in love with someone else!"

"Which is why you followed me all the way to a love hotel and paid for it?" came the retort Yamamoto was waiting for all this time. Fubuki then started playing with her towel. "Maybe I can change your mind...?"

"NOOOOO!"

Not only Yamamoto, but Okamoto screamed that word.

As Aya was about to take off her towel, Tomoyuki attempted to grab it with the intention of putting it back on her.

The door behind him opened, and out (or rather, in) stumbled the Amazon Queen. Right onto the Cherry Boy. Who ended up stumbling himself and accidentally ripping the towel off of Aya's body.

Then, to the chagrin of the pair, they ended up falling on the edge of the bed, making a mess of it, the pillows and bed sheet flying and ending up on the floor along with them.

"EEEEK!" screeched Seiko, grabbing hold of the damp towel in order to cover Tomoyuki's eyes with it. "Don't look, you pervert!" was what the tomboy said even though Aya was the one volunteering to take it off.

"...L-Look, I'm sorry if I led you on! I'm sorry if I came here without thinking! But I mean it when I say I'm in love with someone else!" cried Yamamoto while Okamoto kept pulling the towel over his face and cranking his neck at an odd angle. "OW! Stop that, Amazon Queen!"

However, Seiko suddenly stopped moving, which resulted in the towel slipping from the Cherry Boy's eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, but his curiosity got the better of him, leading him to take a peek.

There stood Aya in all her naked glory. Or she would've had she not been wearing spats (spandex shorts) to cover up her nether regions. She was still topless though.

And yet something seemed missing from this picture. Fubuki's chest was as flat as a board.

Well, that wasn't unusual. Many Japanese girls were flat as boards themselves. Maybe Fubuki wore padded bras?

But then Tomoyuki's eyes went south of the border and saw something else of note.

A noticeable bulge on Aya's spandex shorts.

What?

No. No way.

Maybe her... (ahem) hair down there was unusually thick. Like an untrimmed hedge. Or even a forest. So that would explain the bump or bulge. Right?

'I mean, it can't possibly be... Nah. Of course not.'

Yamamoto then realized that Seiko was looking at the same thing as he was when he glanced back at her.

He saw eyes of wonder, confusion, and terror. She then asked the Cherry Boy, "Is that a bulge in her...?"

And then Aya began laughing. Or rather, cackling. Like an evil overlord about to go on a monologue.

"I would've preferred that you end up in a compromising position with me, but I guess this will have to do, Yamamoto-kun."

"...W-What?" stuttered Yamamoto, not knowing what was going on.

Thusly the two remained stock-still on the bed as the topless, flat- chested, and... spandex-bulging Fubuki retrieved her cellphone from her purse.

That proved to be a mistake.

And so Aya ended up with a digital photo of a disheveled Seiko sitting atop a damp-faced Tomoyuki beside a messy hotel bed that she took with her cellphone camera.

"A-Aya-chin, w-what's going on?" asked the Amazon Queen in a shaky voice.

"Oh, you haven't figured it out yet?" Aya took off her damp wig, revealing the short dry hair underneath it. "I'm not Aya. I'm her brother, Fubuki Akira."

***

Both Seiko and Tomoyuki stayed in the hotel lobby for a bit, staring blankly into the distance, before they both bid their farewells to each other.

Seiko was the first to leave. Tomoyuki told her to go ahead because needed another minute. Or hour.

He called in sick at his part-time work. He knew he couldn't make it there on time. Nor did he feel like working.

After buying a drink and snack from a vending machine, he went back to the empty hotel room (since it was already paid for) to gather his thoughts. Aya... no, Akira... was long gone by then.

Damn. Wasn't that something?

That was the last thing he expected her... him... to say. It seemed like something out of a movie.

Like Dustin Hoffman's character in "Tootsie". Or Ming-Na Wen's character in "Mulan". Or Jaye Davidson's character in "The Crying Game". Or Hillary Swank's character in "Boys Don't Cry".

Hell, that revelation in the end was very Tootsie-ish in its execution.

On that note, he really felt like crying right then and there.

Akira Fubuki, the younger brother of Aya that, Yamamoto realized, was about the same height and build as her, had admitted to "catfishing" the Cherry Boy when he was in first year high school.

Akira didn't like how, as he put it, Tomoyuki was "stalking" and "bothering" his big sister, so he pulled a prank on him to teach him a lesson.

Which, in retrospect, made a lot of sense.

The rumors. The anger Aya had when Yamamoto kept insisting that they had dated and she was lying about them not dating. The way Aya's personality was completely different from the "Aya" he dated.

Even the fact that Miku received the letter addressed to Seiko could also be explained away by Akira mistaking Seiko for Miku after overhearing the name from his sister.

Everything now had a... not-so-simple explanation. But an explanation nonetheless.

To reiterate, Akira Fubuki pretended to be his sister Aya in order to "catfish" Tomoyuki Yamamoto.

Tomoyuki kept repeating that statement inwardly but he still couldn't wrap his mind around it.  Seriously, what the hell?

The funny thing was that both the girl Fubuki and Tomoyuki ended up telling the truth after all.

'So let me get things straight,' thought the Cherry Boy while staring at the TV but not really watching the game show that was on.

Akira specifically put on his sister's clothes to impersonate her and go onto dates with Tomoyuki in her stead. This led to the misunderstanding later on that led to a falling out between Yamamoto and the Elder Fubuki.

Or maybe it wasn't a falling out, because technically, Tomoyuki never really met the real Aya until later on. He'd been dating her brother instead under false pretenses.

Akira also took a photo of him and the Amazon Queen in a rather compromising position in order to... what? Make them, or rather make Tomoyuki, suffer further by having blackmail material on him and the Seiko?

Man, Akira really must hate him go through all that trouble to catfish Yamamoto.

...Right?

Granted, his dedication to pranks aside, it was still embarrassing for Akira to go into drag and pretend to be a girl just to embarrass the Cherry Boy with his big reveal in the hotel.

They must've gone through so many dates. They were so many, in fact, that Yamamoto lost count. He had enough dates with Aya (actually Akira) to presume that they were now boyfriend and girlfriend.

But why did he do it? What the hell did the Cherry Boy do to deserve Akira's wrath and his methodical revenge plot in the first place?

Now that was the million-yen question.

The Friend Zone King couldn't quite buy Akira's excuse that his crossdressing was all for the sake of protecting his sister from him.

Why didn't Akira just allow Aya to reject Tomoyuki outright? Why go through all this trouble?

Come to think of it, didn't Akira already get what he wanted out of Yamamoto last year? The crossdresser ended up making his sister hate the Cherry Boy's guts by impersonating her and going on false dates with him.

What prompted the male Fubuki to bother Tomoyuki again after all this time?

And then it hit the Yamamoto. Of course.

Tomoyuki recently made up with Aya (sort of) when he prevented her from making that ill-timed love confession to Kazuhito Sugata.

Her jealous li'l brother with a siscon (Sister Complex) must've arranged this little revelation at the hotel to destroy the mended fences between Yamamoto and the female Fubuki.

But that backfired and Akira ended up taking the blackmail photograph of Yamamoto and Okamoto as a consolation prize.

Regardless, the twerp got him. He got him hook, line, and sinker.

***

Although Tomoyuki didn't feel like going back to school that Friday, he still went.

Might as well. He wasn't going to solve this mystery staring slack- jawed at his room's ceiling, feeling sorry for himself.

Seiko herself couldn't even look him in the eye that morning, but he didn't let the fact hurt his feelings or anything. He completely understood.

That night they had at the hotel was awkward for everyone involved.

The long weekend that would've let him sort his thoughts and feelings out aside, he had several important things to do that day.

Like apologize to Akira's sister, Aya.

'First thing's first.' He went straight to the entrance of Class-2C, waited for (the real) Aya Fubuki (and her "sidekick" Yukari Goto) to arrive, and bowed down to Aya in apology.

Oh boy, did he get the wrong impression of her. She really wasn't at fault at all for the dating rumors spread about him and her.

Neither was Tomoyuki, but at least now he knew the truth. They were both right about the situation in certain points of view.

The ever-cynical Aya pulled Tomoyuki aside and asked, "Did something happen? What's up with you?"

"I just wanted to apologize," Tomoyuki said, shrugging and avoiding her gaze. "I know I've been doing that a lot lately so it might sound shallow coming from me, but... I really am sorry."

Fubuki then crossed her arms and prodded, "...And?"

Yamamoto cleared his throat. "I was wondering if you know the classroom number of your brother, Akira."

The Class 2C Rep held herself, her arms folded tightly around her chest and wrinkled her nose at the Cherry Boy. "Why?"

"I just want to talk to him, okay?" he said, not knowing (or willing) to broach the subject of catfishing and crossdressing with Akira's big sister.

"But you've never even met..." Aya's eyes widened. "Oh no."

Shit. Did she realize the truth? Did Yamamoto let the cat out of the bag? Would Akira in turn send that compromising photo of him and Seiko to the whole school? Or to Sugata?

Fubuki then unfolded her arms, sighed, and said, "Look, I'll talk to my li'l bro. If he threatened you in any way after seeing that we've mended fences, then I have to apologize on his behalf. He's very protective of me. Please understand."

"I-It's nothing like that, I just want to talk to him!" Tomoyuki protested with a sigh (of relief) of his own before a little birdie in the form of Yukari blabbed, "Well, if that's the case, then Akira-kun belongs to Section 1A."

"...YUKARI-CHAN!" screeched Aya before pulling at the ditzy blonde's twin tails hard.

"OWIE! I'm sowie, Aya-chan!" cried the ditz, reasoning, "But Cherry-kun only wanted to talk to your bro! What's the harm in that?"

"Class 1A, huh?" said the Cherry Boy, scratching his chin. "Right. I guess I'll go talk to him then. Thanks, Goto!"

"Waaait, what for? What did he say to you?" insisted Aya, who began to look more like the Aya of old with her frown and glare.

Tomoyuki raised his arms in surrender and backpedaled. "Nothing bad! I promise! I just want to clear the air with Fubuki Akira! It's not like we're going to end up in a fist fight or something...!'

Serendipitously, Yamamoto ended up literally bumping into his classmate, the Judo Club President and one of the Four Kings of Class 2B, Kanemoto.

Yep. Matsuda's friend Kanemoto. Or Matsuda #2. Or the bishonen (pretty boy) version of Matsuda. That Kanemoto.

"...Fubuki Akira? You're looking for Fubuki Akira? Hahaha! Cherry Boy, are you off to have a rematch with him?" Kanemoto asked, overhearing their conversation.

Yamamoto would've just cowered away from one of his regular bullies had he not taken a double-take at what the Judo Club President said. "Uh, rematch? W-What are you talking about Kanemoto?"

The sneering jock nudged Yamamoto's side. "Aw, come on. Don't be coy. You two got in a slap fight over me back in junior high. You wanted first dibs over yours truly and Fubuki Akira was your love rival."

Tomoyuki stuttered, "W-What the heck are you...?" before he felt a chill in his spine.

"Yamamoto-kun! You're going to have a fist fight over my li'l brother!?"

"AH! Aya-chan! I mean, Fubuki! Of course, I'm not! Don't believe Kanemoto's lies...!" so he said, but a feeling of déjà vu hit him.

And so the puzzle pieces in his mind began to fit. He remembered who Akira was.

This wasn't the first time they met, and he wasn't referring to their fake dates.

***

By some miracle, Tomoyuki Yamamoto got away from Akira Fubuki's protective sister in one piece.

Yamamoto guessed that his wimpy demeanor in the face of Kanemoto's "outlandish" accusations let him off the hook.

For the first time, Aya gave Tomoyuki the benefit of the doubt. She probably reasoned, "Why would the bullied Cherry Boy ever start a fist fight with my li'l bro?"

Ironically, the one time she trusted him was the one time she shouldn't have.

Kanemoto was right. Yamamoto did fight the younger Fubuki brother. And it was over the infamous jock.

No, not because they wanted to win Kanemoto's heart (or at least, as far as Yamamoto was concerned, that wasn't the case).

This stain in Tomoyuki's past was part of the reason why he believed that he completely deserved most of the bullying done to him all this time.

***

To Be Continued...

It's a trap! The trap arc is almost over with. What else is in store for Yamamoto and his Non-Harem? Stay "tuned"!

Farewell, Abdiel

[wishingforatypewriter]

Rewind

Summary: Erina reflects on a missed opportunity 

It was a typical Friday night at the Nakiri mansion. Alice and Kurokiba had gone out on a date. It was a double date this time, if Erina had heard her cousin’s boastful ramblings correctly, but she had no idea who with. 

A few minutes after they left, Hisako had slipped out of the back door wearing lipstick and perfume and a black dress with a slit up one side. If her endeavors on previous Friday nights were any indication, she wouldn’t be back until the wee hours of the morning.

This time, like each time before, Erina had been sorely tempted to ask her friend where she was going and who she kept meeting and whether she thought it would last, but she didn’t. People were entitled to their secrets—their secret pleasures, their secret sorrows. There were things Erina preferred to keep hidden as well.

With a resigned sigh, the second seat closed the romance manga she had been reading and let it rest on her down pillows. She walked over to her desk and opened a small drawer with a key she kept at the bottom of her jewelry box. Inside was a plain manila envelope, one she had sent Hisako to deliver to the Polar Star dorm three months prior. Thinking it had contained only routine shokugeki related paperwork, Hisako had offered to store it in the ‘voided’ section of her gargantuan file cabinet. But Erina had insisted that she should keep the documents with her in case another opportunity to use them ever arose. It hadn’t.

Taking a seat on her plush swivel chair, Erina took the top document—printed, of course, on her personal letterhead—and read her statement of challenge for the first time since the day she composed it.

Yukihira-kun,

It’s insulting that you thought for even a minute that this was a real challenge. Given your current condition, I could win the first seat back in my sleep. However, being a woman of principle, I could never bring myself do such a thing—least of all to you…

It had all started about two weeks after the shokugeki that changed everything. In a 3-2 ruling, Yukihira Souma dethroned the illustrious Nakiri heiress and took the first seat of the Elite Ten Council. Subsequently, nearly every senior at Tōtsuki—and an impressive number of underclassmen—set out to challenge him for the top spot. The impulse, however ill-conceived, was understandable. If a commoner could reach the academy’s pinnacle, why couldn’t any of them? What Erina couldn’t wrap her mind around was why he always felt the need to entertain their requests.

“You’re up early,” Erina had said one morning when she’d spotted her cousin on her way out the door.

Alice glanced up at her, yawning. “Takumi Aldini took the spot last night, so I had to settle for a shokugeki before classes.”

“Alice.” Erina gave her hair a petulant flip that was made less threatening by the fact that she was still in her nightgown. “Do you truly believe that you’re going to win against him?”

“It’s a crapshoot, honestly,” the fourth seat revealed. “With our grade, the rankings barely mean anything. You, me, Yukihira, Hayama, and Ryo-kun are all basically at the same level. Who ends up winning depends on luck, the weather, how you feel when you get out of bed.” She gave a noncommittal wave to punctuate her point.

“You’d like to think that,” Erina said, mostly to herself. “Well, try not to take too much time. He and I have to go meet with the people from Saveur magazine later this morning.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t make you late for your date.” Alice winked at her cousin before opening the door. If someone had told Erina she’d ever miss being teased like that, she would have never believed it.

“For the last time, Alice, it is not a date. It’s an interview!”

“Whatever you say, Erina. You can console him on the way there after I win.”

In the end, Alice didn’t win the shokugeki, but she still managed to put them off schedule.

“You’re late,” Erina said when Souma slid into the car they’d be taking to the interview location. “If you’re going to occupy this position you should at least make an attempt to be somewhat punctual.”

“My bad, Nakiri,” he said, unbothered as ever by her scolding.

As they started driving, Erina checked her emails and texted Hisako and approved all the tastings she’d attend in the next two weeks. About half an hour into the journey, she actually ran out of work to do. 

She usually brought more paperwork with her on trips, but since she normally got absolutely nothing down when Yukihira was around, she hadn’t seen the point. Just as she was contemplating her unexpected productivity, a string of sneezes from the boy next to her drew Erina out of her musings.

She glanced over at the first seat. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What?”

“You’re not talking my ear off like you usually do,” Erina pointed out. And then, although he had been looking pretty tired before, he flashed her that ever irritating grin—the one that made people think that nothing was ever a problem for him. By the end of their first year, she’d known for certain that it was fake at least eighty percent of the time.

“If you wanted to have a conversation, you could have just said so.”

“I’m not saying that I wanted to talk to you! It’s just unusual for you not to rudely impose on me and distract me from my work, so I thought I’d ask why.”

“You know, Nakiri, you have a pretty cool talent there. You can really make anything sound hostile.”

“And you can distract people until they forget the questions you don’t feel like answering.” That was another thing she had noticed at the end of their first year. She had watched him talk circles around Tadokoro and Takumi—even his own father—and not one of them ever noticed he was doing it.

Souma sighed, then coughed a little. “What was the question?”

“What. Is. The. Matter. With. You?” She enunciated each syllable individually. “And if you say ‘nothing’ I will probably punch you.”

Souma smirked at her. “I would pay to see you punch someone.”

At this Erina rolled her eyes. Then she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “You know, now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever actually punched anyone, and…” The second seat grew quiet, realizing what he was doing. How often did he actually do that to her? “And that is not even the point! Yukihira!”

In the face of her withering glare, the first seat could only laugh. When he started coughing soon after, Erina just shook her head.

“Do you have a cold or something?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “I think I’m just tired.”

Sighing, the second seat slid over and placed her hand on his forehead. “If you have a fever, it’s only a small one,” she decided. Then she retracted her hand and turned her head away, content to pretend that she hadn’t just done that. “You’ll probably be fine if you take it easy for the next few days.”

But of course he didn’t take it easy. And when the first seat walked into the French cuisine practicum they had together that Thursday morning, he looked like hell and sounded worse.

As was expected, they both finished their rouille de seiche well ahead of everyone else in the class, and received top marks, and had ample time left over to quarrel over nothing the way they always did. Or at least, they would have been quarreling if he could manage to get more than two sentences out without coughing like his lungs were about to end up on the floor.

“You sound like shit.”

“When did you start swearing, Nakiri?”

Erina’s cheeks flushed faintly. “Shortly after meeting you,” she said—and sadly it was pretty much true. Then she glanced out the window where the rain steadily pelted the campus. “I have a car coming around after class ends. Let me take you home. If you drop dead, I’ll be stuck with all your paperwork.”

“Thanks, but I have another shokugeki right after this.”

The Nakiri heiress rolled her eyes. “You really have no sense of self-preservation.” If only he had sabotaged himself this well back when she was rooting for his demise. “Against who?”

“Hayama.”

Erina’s eyes widened, all Alice’s talk about crapshoots and rankings rushing back to her. “You’re literally giving him the first seat,” she said. “Even on a normal day, there’s about a fifty-fifty chance that you’d lose to me or Hayama.”

“That's—”

“True. And you know it.” Erina crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t be stupid. Just cancel the match and reschedule it for later. It’s not like you have anything to prove anymore…well, I mean I still won’t accept you, but that’s a completely separate issue.”

“Things must really look bad if you’re worried, Nakiri,” he managed to say before he started hacking again.

Erina just sighed. There was so much she resented about that statement, she didn’t even know where to begin. Who said she was worried? And even more pressingly, who said she worried about him any less than anybody else? “You’re not going to listen to me anyway,” she said.

“I’ll pull it off,” he promised her, right before the class period ended. “Just watch.”

And naturally, he did pull it off—though just barely. And she did watch, though she was watching him more than the match, willing him telepathically not to fall over—as that was what people tended to do when they could hardly breathe.

And when it was over, he’d smiled a smile she knew was just for her. Once again, Yukihira Souma had proven her wrong, and once again she was happy to have been mistaken. Erina hadn’t even minded that people could probably see her gazing down at him like some naive Juliet.

But then Kurokiba issued his challenge. And as tireless as the current first seat was in his pursuit of new cuisine, she could tell that he was too spent to pull off another match. So, Nakiri Erina did what she did best. She made a scene.

From her private viewing balcony, Erina whirled on her cousin’s aide. “Don’t be absurd, Kurokiba-kun. His next opponent will be none other than me.” The entire crowd gasped as Kawashima Urara tried her best to commentate on this new turn of events. “After I take back my seat, you can fight me for it. If you have anything of value to offer me, that is. It’d do all of you good to remember I’m not as lenient as Yukihira-kun.”

Then the stadium erupted again, with everyone from the middle school students to the Polar Star crowd chatting anxiously amongst themselves. At long last, the severe god tongue, Queen Erina, had returned to Tōtsuki.

Erina glanced down at Souma one more time, her lips curled into a smirk, her eyes warm with affection, before turning to leave with Hisako in tow.

“Shall I draft an official statement of challenge for you, Erina-sama?” her aide asked once they were back inside the mansion.

“No,” she replied. “I’ll write it myself. This one will be…unique.” That was putting it lightly.

“Alright…” Hisako’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she didn’t ask any questions—a favor that Erina would return a thousand fold in the months to come. “Is there anything you need me to get for you?”

“A shot,” the second seat said with a sigh. “I think Alice has a handle of vodka on a shelf somewhere.”

Hisako blinked a few times, clearly shocked, though trying not to show it. “Of course. I’ll bring it immediately.”

After she took a shot—three, actually—Erina sat behind her desk in her plush swivel chair and started typing.

Yukihira-kun,

It’s insulting that you thought for even a minute that this was a real challenge. Given your current condition, I could win the first seat back in my sleep. However, being a woman of principle, I could never bring myself do such a thing—least of all to you. While I generally don’t share your egalitarian streak, I can respect it…at least sometimes. But, putting all that aside, you must know that since the day you first set foot on this campus, the pinnacle of the academy has belonged to you and me. Since we were first years, it felt like everything and everyone at this institution, including my grandfather (a fact that I still find a bit disturbing) has been pushing us towards one another. I hated you for it at first, which I’m sure you already know, but fighting against it is too exhausting. I’d be lying if I said you weren’t someone important to me—although I’m definitely still going to say it. Don’t waste your energy fighting every single battle that comes your way, because when I do decide to take you on again, I won’t hold back.

Additionally, on that note, get some sleep. If I see you in class, or at Parliament, or in any official or unofficial shokugeki venue any time before Monday, there will be hell to pay! Also, I suppose you can text me if you need anything.

Sincerely,

Nakiri Erina

Then she printed the form and slid it into the envelope and sent Hisako to bring it to the Polar Star.

It had returned to her unopened.

“I think we’ve become a nuisance to Tadokoro-san,” Hisako has said apologetically before explaining that the sixth seat begged her, all flustered and determined, to hold off the challenge ‘so Souma-kun could rest.’ Erina did all she did to keep from rolling her eyes. 

After she finished reading it over, Erina put the letter back in her drawer and locked it. In the morning she’d wake up and fight with Alice and act like she didn’t see the curious red marks that periodically showed up on the side of Hisako’s neck. On Monday, she would pretend to be as delighted with Souma and Megumi’s puppy love as everyone else in their circle of friends. By Wednesday, the delight would seem real. And if the weight of feelings unconfessed fell upon her again on some Friday night when she was left to her own devices…

People were entitled to their secrets—their secret what-ifs, their secret somedays. The drawer would always be hers to open or lock.

Notes: This is just me rewriting the time covered in one of my Megumi-centered fics from Erina’s perspective. Thanks for reading, everyone! 

[lovemesomesurveys]

Quick! Chinese or Mexican food? Mexican.

How many significant others have you had in your WHOLE life? One, technically. It had the title; though, it didn’t really feel like a relationship. The one that did feel like a relationship was with someone I didn’t have one with, if that makes sense.

I have to ask: What does the last text you received say? It was a Bitmoji my mom sent in response to something I sent to her.

How about the last text you sent? I sent my mom a picture of something.

Have you shared any kisses today? No.

Did the last person you kissed have soft lips, or were they kind of crusty? lol they were soft.

Do you think your life will be any different a year from now? I sure as heck hope so... in a positive way, of course. I don’t want to think about the possibility of things being worse.

What is in your wallet? Credit cards and rewards cards from a few stores.

Have you ever been in a fist fight? No.

When was the last time you went to the doctor? Two weeks ago.

Are you going out of town anytime soon? No, I wish.

Do you hate your ex? No.

When are you going to get a haircut? I don’t plan on getting one any time soon.

Can you fit your hand around your wrist? Yes.

Have you ever hurt yourself on purpose? Yes.

When was the last time you applied chapstick? I don’t remember.

Are you a coffee person or a tea person? Coffee, definitely.

Do you have a weird laugh? I don’t think so?

Do you have videos on YouTube? Yes lol.

When’s the last time you had a phone conversation for more than ten minutes? I have no idea. I’m so not a talk on the phone kind of person.

Do you laugh at inappropriate times? No.

What’s your fast food restaurant of choice? Chick-Fil-A.

All the people you’ve kissed, what did their names start with? D, G, and J.

Are you in any kind of pain right now? Yes.

Are you the jealous type? More envious than jealous. This question comes up in like every survey.

What did you and your ex fight about most? Our communication sucked, and it was hard to talk about the serious stuff with him. I felt used and played by him, and I expressed how I felt to him about it more than once. The issue of him not wanting to commit and me feeling used, and my feelings for him was a big topic of discussion for us.

Do you have a foot phobia? I’m not afraid of feet, but I don’t like them. I don’t want to be touched by anyone’s feet. I don’t even like my own.

Well, are you a germaphobe? Somewhat. I don’t share drinks or eat off peoples’ food or utensils. I get scared being around someone who is sick because I don’t want to catch it. I carry hand sanitizer as well.

Don’t you love long hugs? From certain people, yes. The best hugs to me are hugs from a guy--particularly a guy I’m interested in. Not like a side hug, but a big, bear hug.

And long kisses? Yeah.

Have you ever purchased condoms? No.

Do you have a dirty mind? Not really, but sometimes my mind goes in the gutter. I admit it. I’m kinda immature that way.

What’s your favorite soda? Dr. Pepper, Coke, Pepsi.

Do you check the mail everyday, or somebody else? My mom or brother does.

Did you think braces were cool when you were little? No.

Do you ever go without makeup or doing your hair? Ha, you mean everyday? I rarely bother with makeup anymore. I spend most of my time at home, so I see no point, but even when I do go out. If I feel like it I will, but lately I just don’t care. If I go out, I do something with my hair, but it’s just either throwing it up in a bun, pony tail, or putting a hat on. I don’t put much effort into it. :/

Put your iTunes on shuffle RIGHT NOW and tell me the first song it plays. I don’t use iTunes, but I don’t feel like getting my phone and putting on Spotify either. It doesn’t matter that my phone is right next to me, ha.

What is the last song you added to your iTunes library? I don’t feel like checking the last song I added to my Spotify playlist.

Are you embarrassed by any of the songs in your iTunes? I’m just pretending these questions say Spotify, since that’s what I use and no, I’m not.

When was the last time you were sick? I’m always not feeling well on some level for some reason or another. I haven’t had like a cold or anything like that; though, in a couple years. I’m always surprised by that because I feel like my immune system is crap, and my younger brother gets a cold a lot.

Did you get anybody else sick? No.

What brand is your camera? An Apple iPhone 6S Plus.

Do you like raisins? I like chocolate covered ones better, but yeah.

Who was your Valentine this year? I didn’t have one.

When did you first kiss the last person you kissed? March 7, 2011. I remember that because it was my friends birthday, and it happened at her birthday dinner.

And when did you last kiss the last person you kissed? I don’t remember that. I didn’t know it would be the last time. Things seemed good at that time, and then one day they weren’t. I didn’t see it coming, although I should have.

Did you borrow that shirt from somebody? No.

What was the last thing you put in your mouth? Water.

Do you like to swim? I don’t know how to swim, so I have to use an inner tube, but I don’t like doing that either. I still get scared. It’s just not enjoyable to me.

How many vacations have you been on in the past year? Zero.

Have you ever gone on vacation with your boyfriend/girlfriend? I’m single, but no I’ve never been on a vacation with a guy.

Are you supposed to be doing homework, young man/lady? Nooooope. I don’t miss those days.

Do you have to wake up early tomorrow? No.

Do you have any prescriptions currently? Yes.

Are you upset about anything? Mmmhmm.

[chadpetersondatingblog]

Guys Reveal How Often They Actually Talk To Their Exes After A Breakup

I’ve always had a weird perception of post-breakup etiquette as a result of my parents’ frankly weird relationship. My parents were best friends before they started dating. Then, they were hookup buddies. Then, they were boyfriend-girlfriend. Then, they were MARRIED. Then, they were divorced. AND THEN, they were best friends again. So, to me, breaking up never necessarily meant you have to stop talking to your ex completely. But eventually, I grew up and started having my own exes and realized the whole “should you text your ex” question actually isn’t quite so simple.

On one hand, that person used to be your best friend — the person you trusted with literally everything and anything. So obviously, you’re going to want to shoot them a quick text when something awesome happens, when something terrible happens, or when something totally neutral happens, but it reminds you of that one time you guys saw that weird movie on Netflix. Yeah, the temptation to text them and stay in touch is definitely there.

But on the other hand, you’re trying to move on after a breakup, and as much as you tell yourself your feelings are gone, and as much as they actually may be gone, finding love with someone new is going to be pretty difficult when you’re still chatting it up with your ex all the live long day.

So what’s the solution here? Well, there may just not be the same one for every single person. But a recent Reddit thread asked men how often they talk to their exes, and their answers might work as some sort of guideline for you.

There’s only one ex he could actually see himself talking to.

My most recent one, occasionally. I dunno I think we can still be friends.

The rest of them, not at all.

– /u/GroovyEFS

He wants the best for her, but he’d never talk to her.

Never.

I wish her well, but she’s really mentally ill so she’s hard to be around. Besides, I’m very happy with my current girlfriend.

– /u/GunzGoPew

They’re his exes for a reason.

My exes are my exes for reasons.

– /u/puckbeaverton

He keeps in touch with her on a daily basis.

Davide Illini/Stocksy

Like almost every day.

She helped me find this apartment in the rural town where she moved with our daughter, so I could be close.

I dunno, we get along well. Even if it wasn't for our daughter, it's not like the reasons we enjoy each other's company mysteriously disappeared once we weren't together. I'm friends with a few of my ex's, and their new men. S'all good, man.

– /u/stephen_1975

There is one whom he talks to every week.

The one I talk to is one of my friends – we talk weekly. The others and I have no contact.

Don't worry about arbitrary standards of normalcy. If it works for both of you, then it works.

– /u/Diablo165

He Snapchats her every day without reason.

I snapchat her everyday. I dont know why

– /u/phillyphan19

Since breaking up, they’ve only spoken twice.

I only talked to my ex twice after breaking up, it's been now 5 months since our last contact, can't feel better.

– /u/kaoussi

He hasn’t, and he never will.

I don't, and I don't think I ever will. We didn't end on bad terms, I just don't see how it will be beneficial for us to talk.

– /u/mattcampbell0

He rarely goes out of his way to keep in touch.

BONNINSTUDIO

Almost never. I always go no contact for a while after the break for my own sake, and then after a while I'll talk to them but I rarely go out of my way.

– /u/Cum_belly

He cuts them off cold turkey post-breakup.

I'd say not. Went Cold turkey for all my breakups, 3 years no contact with gf of 3 years, 2 months no contact to gf of 6 months (did sent occasional catch up message (the long essay kind)) but stopped. I do keep in touch with a girl I slept with regularly for a few months but she wasn't officially my gf. You should think about what you need closure on, perhaps.

– /u/Marmalain

He purposely dates girls out of his circle so he can cut them off post-breakup.

Never. That's why I don't date girls I know or that are related to any of my friends.

– /u/unreadable_captcha

They didn’t fully cut ties until she moved away.

When we first broke up we basically carried on dating for 6 months. Then she moved back to her home country. Now we basically just send each other happy birthday messages

– /u/liming91

Things were fine between them until she moved on.

Aleksandar Novoselski

We were friendly after the breakup and continued chatting on the phone and on Facebook from time to time. She moved far far away so its not like we met up all the time. One day she stopped talking to me because she started seeing a new guy. Not even a heads up like I never mattered to her. Hope she is extremely miserable, dies of gonorrhea and rots in hell!

– /u/enrodude

After 10 years together, they can’t help but stay in touch.

A couple of times per week, we were together for a decade and had a mutual breakup.

– /u/redmeansdistortion

It’s not an issue until one person finds someone new.

Nothing wrong with being friends especially if the break up was because of distance. There is still always a chance you'll get back together down the line. It could become problematic if either of you get into another serious relationship though.

– /u/westerbypl

He doesn’t speak to any of them.

I don't speak to them. When we broke up, I went no contact. One ex got back in contact with me on facebook, we exchanged a couple of messages and that was back in 2011. Once an ex is an ex, she is an ex and I'd rather just move on entirely which I cannot do if we are friends or acquaintances.

– /u/AYellowFrog

He doesn’t totally cut them off… but he basically does.

One ex I speak with once every few months, the others almost never. I'm not saying to cut off all contact but everyday is a bit much, and just keeps you guys somewhat dependent on each other.

– /u/Too_French

My main takeaway here? Text your ex happy birthday. Say hi when you see them in person. But chatting all the time and hanging out whenever you get the chance is probably just going to leave you stuck in a relationship that’s already over.

Check out the entire Gen Why series and other videos on Facebook and the Bustle app across Apple TV, Roku, and Amazon Fire TV.

Why Life Is Never Like The Movies

/* */ window.NDA && window.NDA.initPlayer && window.NDA.initPlayer(‘nda-videoobject__embed–2059552–0’, { advertising: {“client”:”vast”,”tag”:”https:\/\/pubads.g.doubleclick.net\/gampad\/ads?sz=3×3&iu=\/49944529\/ed.vid&impl=s&gdfp_req=1&env=vp&output=vast&unviewed_position_start=1&url=[referrer_url]&description_url=[description_url]&correlator=[timestamp]&cust_params=area%3Ddating%26campaign%3Dnone%26environment%3Dwww%26page%3Dcategory%26tags%3Dnone%26Topic%3D%26article%3D2077276″}, playlist: ‘//cdn.jwplayer.com/v2/media/a6MTrkaA’, image: ‘http://ift.tt/2gt5ghv’, aspectratio: ‘1:1’, width: ‘100%’, title: ‘Why Life Is Never Like The Movies’, videoId: 2059552, tracking: { category: ‘Video: ED Player’ } });

Check out the “Best of Elite Daily” stream in the Bustle App for more stories just like this!

Subscribe to Elite Daily’s official newsletter, The Edge, for more stories you don’t want to miss.

Guys Reveal How Often They Actually Talk To Their Exes After A Breakup

from Meet Positives http://ift.tt/2xkvg3b via IFTTT

[ashleyjacksonblog]

Guys Reveal How Often They Actually Talk To Their Exes After A Breakup

I’ve always had a weird perception of post-breakup etiquette as a result of my parents’ frankly weird relationship. My parents were best friends before they started dating. Then, they were hookup buddies. Then, they were boyfriend-girlfriend. Then, they were MARRIED. Then, they were divorced. AND THEN, they were best friends again. So, to me, breaking up never necessarily meant you have to stop talking to your ex completely. But eventually, I grew up and started having my own exes and realized the whole “should you text your ex” question actually isn’t quite so simple.

On one hand, that person used to be your best friend — the person you trusted with literally everything and anything. So obviously, you’re going to want to shoot them a quick text when something awesome happens, when something terrible happens, or when something totally neutral happens, but it reminds you of that one time you guys saw that weird movie on Netflix. Yeah, the temptation to text them and stay in touch is definitely there.

But on the other hand, you’re trying to move on after a breakup, and as much as you tell yourself your feelings are gone, and as much as they actually may be gone, finding love with someone new is going to be pretty difficult when you’re still chatting it up with your ex all the live long day.

So what’s the solution here? Well, there may just not be the same one for every single person. But a recent Reddit thread asked men how often they talk to their exes, and their answers might work as some sort of guideline for you.

There’s only one ex he could actually see himself talking to.

My most recent one, occasionally. I dunno I think we can still be friends.

The rest of them, not at all.

– /u/GroovyEFS

He wants the best for her, but he’d never talk to her.

Never.

I wish her well, but she’s really mentally ill so she’s hard to be around. Besides, I’m very happy with my current girlfriend.

– /u/GunzGoPew

They’re his exes for a reason.

My exes are my exes for reasons.

– /u/puckbeaverton

He keeps in touch with her on a daily basis.

Davide Illini/Stocksy

Like almost every day.

She helped me find this apartment in the rural town where she moved with our daughter, so I could be close.

I dunno, we get along well. Even if it wasn't for our daughter, it's not like the reasons we enjoy each other's company mysteriously disappeared once we weren't together. I'm friends with a few of my ex's, and their new men. S'all good, man.

– /u/stephen_1975

There is one whom he talks to every week.

The one I talk to is one of my friends – we talk weekly. The others and I have no contact.

Don't worry about arbitrary standards of normalcy. If it works for both of you, then it works.

– /u/Diablo165

He Snapchats her every day without reason.

I snapchat her everyday. I dont know why

– /u/phillyphan19

Since breaking up, they’ve only spoken twice.

I only talked to my ex twice after breaking up, it's been now 5 months since our last contact, can't feel better.

– /u/kaoussi

He hasn’t, and he never will.

I don't, and I don't think I ever will. We didn't end on bad terms, I just don't see how it will be beneficial for us to talk.

– /u/mattcampbell0

He rarely goes out of his way to keep in touch.

BONNINSTUDIO

Almost never. I always go no contact for a while after the break for my own sake, and then after a while I'll talk to them but I rarely go out of my way.

– /u/Cum_belly

He cuts them off cold turkey post-breakup.

I'd say not. Went Cold turkey for all my breakups, 3 years no contact with gf of 3 years, 2 months no contact to gf of 6 months (did sent occasional catch up message (the long essay kind)) but stopped. I do keep in touch with a girl I slept with regularly for a few months but she wasn't officially my gf. You should think about what you need closure on, perhaps.

– /u/Marmalain

He purposely dates girls out of his circle so he can cut them off post-breakup.

Never. That's why I don't date girls I know or that are related to any of my friends.

– /u/unreadable_captcha

They didn’t fully cut ties until she moved away.

When we first broke up we basically carried on dating for 6 months. Then she moved back to her home country. Now we basically just send each other happy birthday messages

– /u/liming91

Things were fine between them until she moved on.

Aleksandar Novoselski

We were friendly after the breakup and continued chatting on the phone and on Facebook from time to time. She moved far far away so its not like we met up all the time. One day she stopped talking to me because she started seeing a new guy. Not even a heads up like I never mattered to her. Hope she is extremely miserable, dies of gonorrhea and rots in hell!

– /u/enrodude

After 10 years together, they can’t help but stay in touch.

A couple of times per week, we were together for a decade and had a mutual breakup.

– /u/redmeansdistortion

It’s not an issue until one person finds someone new.

Nothing wrong with being friends especially if the break up was because of distance. There is still always a chance you'll get back together down the line. It could become problematic if either of you get into another serious relationship though.

– /u/westerbypl

He doesn’t speak to any of them.

I don't speak to them. When we broke up, I went no contact. One ex got back in contact with me on facebook, we exchanged a couple of messages and that was back in 2011. Once an ex is an ex, she is an ex and I'd rather just move on entirely which I cannot do if we are friends or acquaintances.

– /u/AYellowFrog

He doesn’t totally cut them off… but he basically does.

One ex I speak with once every few months, the others almost never. I'm not saying to cut off all contact but everyday is a bit much, and just keeps you guys somewhat dependent on each other.

– /u/Too_French

My main takeaway here? Text your ex happy birthday. Say hi when you see them in person. But chatting all the time and hanging out whenever you get the chance is probably just going to leave you stuck in a relationship that’s already over.

Check out the entire Gen Why series and other videos on Facebook and the Bustle app across Apple TV, Roku, and Amazon Fire TV.

Why Life Is Never Like The Movies

/* */ window.NDA && window.NDA.initPlayer && window.NDA.initPlayer(‘nda-videoobject__embed–2059552–0’, { advertising: {“client”:”vast”,”tag”:”https:\/\/pubads.g.doubleclick.net\/gampad\/ads?sz=3×3&iu=\/49944529\/ed.vid&impl=s&gdfp_req=1&env=vp&output=vast&unviewed_position_start=1&url=[referrer_url]&description_url=[description_url]&correlator=[timestamp]&cust_params=area%3Ddating%26campaign%3Dnone%26environment%3Dwww%26page%3Dcategory%26tags%3Dnone%26Topic%3D%26article%3D2077276″}, playlist: ‘//cdn.jwplayer.com/v2/media/a6MTrkaA’, image: ‘http://ift.tt/2gt5ghv’, aspectratio: ‘1:1’, width: ‘100%’, title: ‘Why Life Is Never Like The Movies’, videoId: 2059552, tracking: { category: ‘Video: ED Player’ } });

Check out the “Best of Elite Daily” stream in the Bustle App for more stories just like this!

Subscribe to Elite Daily’s official newsletter, The Edge, for more stories you don’t want to miss.

Guys Reveal How Often They Actually Talk To Their Exes After A Breakup

from Meet Positives http://ift.tt/2xkvg3b via IFTTT