In a daze, I stared up at my ceiling.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Did he want me to die from heart failure?

Well, it was my fault for not removing myself from the situation. I had opportunities. My body was the one not cooperating with me.

I rolled and buried my face into my pillow. I lifted my phone screen, opened it, and typed a message.

Do you like me?

It might've been stupid having to ask that even after what happened, but I couldn't tell with him. His body language and words were too confusing.

A lot.

My lips quivered.

Well, I don't.

Then why'd you kiss me back?

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

Shutting my screen, I squirmed in my bed, trying to forget the sensation, and silence my stirring heart. The images of the others flashed across my mind.

Like a flip had been switched, I hoisted myself upright.

I plopped myself into my desk, yanked open my desk drawer and retrieved multiple blank pieces of paper.

Putting pen to page, I got to work, preparing myself for a long and dreary break.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

The mild wind blew through my hair, riffling my clothes and skirt. Hands at my hips, I barely paid attention to my surroundings. On school grounds, specifically the rooftop, the morning sun trickling into the sky, the quiet only served to amplify my heartbeat.

Eight o'clock sharp. He sauntered through the doors, right on schedule.

Upon catching sight of me, he brightened and jogged toward me. He flipped the white envelope in his hand, before finally gazing up then raised it. "Shiina, do you mean what you wrote on this letter? 'I'll give you a proper answer so come to the rooftop before class.'"

Toru elevated an eyebrow for emphasis, a mix of uncertainty and glee dancing in his eyes.

"Does that mean— You feel the same way?"

"This guy's getting ahead of himself like an idiot," Kamakiri scoffed.

Toru recoiled. "Wha. . ."

His voice caught upon recognizing we had company. Kamakiri, Banri, Upperclassman Issei and Naru stood in a perfect line, identical letters I'd deposited into their shoe lockers in hand. Rin-Rin also, whom I personally had to deliver a letter to then sneak onto campus.

"What's the meaning of this, Shii?" Rin-Rin demanded, extending his lip into a pout. "I'm the one you love, right?"

"Kisa, my goddess, is this not a letter giving me permission to selfishly adore you from up close as your lover?" Banri inquired.

"Yeah, right." Kamakiri had his arms folded across his chest. "She's in love with me. Kisaragi, let these buffoons down easy so we can move on."

"You guys are troubling her," Upperclassman Issei interjected. "She still hasn't told us her feelings herself. Until then, it's unfair of us to make these declarations."

Naru, the reddest of the bunch, twiddled his thumbs and murmured, "It said to meet on the rooftop. . . a prime location in shoujo mangas, s-so. . . C-can I t-take this to be a l-l-love confession?"

For some reason, Naru had the wrong idea. He'd brushed his confession from that day as a dream and assumed I was the one professing my love to him for the first time. It was a cute misconception but I wasn't here to dwell on that now.

I inhaled heavily then exhaled. "You all really know how to make a girl feel special. Though, as fond as I am of reverse harems and having my heart socked left and right by handsome boys, I am human. So let me say it. Here—or really, now—is the only place I can."

One by one, conversation settled into white noise.

Toru's bewilderment expanded. Instead of making strides to abolish it, he joined the others in the line they'd formed.

Scanning their faces I'd grown to cherish since we met, I acknowledged it once more.

Nobody fit into cardboard cutouts. We were all different and did not always blend in.

At one point, I believed my outsider syndrome to be my undoing. Then I met them, and somehow, feeling like an outsider had become the least of my worries.

As much as I tried to deny it, I'd known for a while. I cared for each of them—liked them—so, so, dearly, but there was only one I could say I truly loved.

Even if this wasn't the most ideal situation, the least I could do was deliver those sentiments and let the rest of them down at the same time; open up the next chapter of my life.

My lips upturned one final time.

"The truth is, I. . ."

.

.

.

To be continued. . .