Shiina Kisaragi's POV:

From the moment I enrolled at Hoshizaki Private Academy, my peers ridiculed me for my above-average height, and my heart weighed like bricks in my chest. Numerous times growing up I dreamed about leading the glorious high school life depicted in the media I absorbed. Yet, in reality, I was stuck feeling like a major outcast. I couldn't find parts of myself to love, and deemed it impossible for others to ever love me.

My naivety in that regard blinded me.

When I met him, especially.

Kamakiri was unquestionably my type. I fell for his looks. Then, his smile, and his offhanded acknowledgement of my existence. It took me longer than necessary to recognize his true colours differed far from the version my delusional, lovesick mind had conjured. It wasn't a stretch to say they could've passed as two separate people. Having gotten my heart crushed, I never expected for our paths to cross again. That I'd willingly go so far as to teach myself how to cook in order to repay his acts of kindness, and repeatedly visit him to get his input.

He was extremely hardheaded, had a twisted personality, and spoke in short, blunt sentences. Beneath that, however, lay a softer side he let few bear witness to. His sharp tongue in particular was a huge contrast to his domestic hobbies. He loved to read, cook, knit, sew, clean—largely clean, he was the biggest neat freak. The Kamakiri I'd gotten to know differed greatly from the Kamakiri I initially met, but I found myself falling for him all over again. Others criticized me for it. Even he did, ironically. But both my heart and mind were set.

When I said I'd give him my heart again, and when he promised he'd treasure it, it was like I was living straight out of a fairy tale. Kamakiri wasn't a prince on his white steed, but he was still my prince.

"Nope. Impossible. Find somebody else."

All right, maybe prince wasn't the most accurate term.

"Please?" I said, putting on my best puppy-dog pout.

Kamakiri had the audacity to narrow his eyes. "Stop acting cute. If you want a picture, I'll take one on my phone."

"Those aren't as memorable, though." I circled around him and pushed him from behind, towards the photo booth. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"No."

I dug my heels into the pavement. What was his body was made out of? I was pushing a legitimate wall.

"Cheapskate," I huffed, retreating to wipe the sweat that'd formed on my brow. "Since you had books reserved at the public library, I kept you company to get them."

His lips pursed.

"Then instead of visiting Mt. Foodji, I let you choose where we ate. We even dropped by that arts and crafts store so you could—"

"I get it," he said. "I dragged you around a lot today."

"In general."

"In general. Yet you obediently tag along and never complain. Constantly grinning with your tongue dangling outside of your mouth like an idiot. What are you, a canine?"

"My tongue is not out!" I puffed out my cheek. Veering my gaze, I fidgeted between feet. "Is it wrong that I like spending time with you? Being with you. . . is my favourite thing."

We were smack dab in the middle of the mall—individuals chatting their evening away and ducking into nearby stores. The silence that ensued amplified my stuttering heartbeat. My skin burned. Kamakiri wasn't in any better state—a blatant blush colouring his cheeks.

He ruffled his hair and grunted. "You have no issue saying embarrassing things."

"You're the one not honest enough," I argued, equally bashful. "Unless. . . it isn't the same for you?"

This time, he sighed. His fingers curled around my wrist, and I was whisked forward and through the curtain of the photo booth I insisted we enter. Quite literally before I could come to terms with anything, we were seated on the bench shrouded from view, and his lips were against mine. The gesture knocked the wind out of me. The warmth from this fingers bled into my cheek, his gentle yet unbridled affection pooling to every inch of my heart. This unexpected development consumed me with overwhelming butterflies. I was walking on the clouds themselves.

"Don't ask stupid questions."

My heart continued to pound even after he retreated. "Why? Will you be forced to kiss me again?"

He answered that inquiry straightaway.

A smirk broke across his face. He pulled away for good and stretched to the screen in front of us. "Let's just get this over with."

Frankly, I didn't mind spontaneous kisses, even though my fragile heart argued otherwise. Shy as he was, he already had difficulties indulging in PDA. So, as long as it was in private, he let me cling to him to my heart's content. Because of that, I was greedy. Countless times since we started dating I forced my whims onto him. This photo booth, for instance, was something Kamakiri was agreeing to solely to appease me.

Palsy-walsy couple behaviour was not for him. Social interactions in general, weren't. In spite of that, lovey-dovey activities seemed to be all I threw at him. He never outright said it was annoying, and typically caved to my requests regardless of his initial protests, but maybe the truth was he was getting fed up with me.

"It doesn't have to be a photo booth." Whether it be a result of my insecurity, my voice reached my ears before I wholly processed it. "We don't have to have matching keychains, or go on picnics, or do all those stereotypical couple things. I enjoy spending time with you, regardless of what we do. I can watch you read for hours without getting bored. When you wrinkle your eyebrows when choosing between knitting needles and yarn, or travel to different supermarkets so you could buy certain groceries that are on sale. . . it's all unexpectedly endearing. So, so. . . you don't have to go along with my requests if it annoys you."

"You're dumb, aren't you?"

I flinched.

"You think I'm forcing myself?" he added before I could sneak a word in. "That every single one of your requests annoy me?"

"W-well, maybe not every single one. . ."

He exhaled, as if through with my idiocy.

"Listen, tomato cheeks. I'm only saying this once. You're special to me. The most important person to me. If the reason you've been lost in thought recently is because you're scared of bothering me, stop that unnecessary consideration. You aren't a bother and never will be. How does it make sense that you'll frequently listen to my demands and then doubt that I wouldn't do the same? I'll admit: sometimes, your requests are a bit out of my comfort zone. I instinctively shoot it down because of my awkwardness, not because I don't want to make you happy. I want you to be happy. I'll do anything to meet that end. All this to say, don't hold back for my sake. Talk to me. If you don't, that's when I'll truly be annoyed. Get it? Good, because we're not bringing this up again."

My mouth had peeled into the grandest smile. I hugged his arm. "I'm sorry for my dumbness."

The tips of his ears burned red. "Which option do you want? We can't stay in here forever."

"Hmm. This one says we can decorate and write whatever we want on our completed pictures. . . Ooh! How about I stylize one for you and you stylize one for me? Then we can give it to each other! For the first photo, generic peace signs should be enough, right? Come on, Kamakiri. Peace. It'll be so cute. Plus it'll make me very, very, very happy."

"On second thought, you can hold back a little."

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A quarter to eight, and after splurging to a reasonable degree for our broke high school selves, we left the mall. The scent of gravel clogged my nostrils. Side by side, we strolled down the sidewalk, path illuminated by the adjacent lamplights.

"I'm fine with going alone, you know. We live in opposite directions."

"It's late," he excused. "Besides, if I let you go off on your own, you'll be lured to a white van by a stranger offering you candy."

I smacked his arm. "Why do you assume I'm devoid of a good head on my shoulders? I lived seventeen years before we started going out and can very well live the rest of my life perfectly fine. Simpleminded I may be but I have common sense."

"Do you?"

"Yes!" I caught his self-satisfied smirk. "I can't believe you don't trust me to get to my house okay. I should be walking you home."

I petulantly frowned.

"Based on the assumption that you'll actually let me come over. . ."

He busied his attention on a passing pebble.

"Why do I feel like you're purposefully avoiding to introduce me to your family?"

"It's your imagination."

I raised an eyebrow.

"I'm doing you a favour," he said. "Nothing good comes from involving yourself with them."

Considering that was his opinion about basically everyone, it was difficult to take his advice to heart.

"Your brother—Akiya—he's an author, right?" I asked for small talk.

"His books are crappy."

"Yet you religiously buy each of them anyway?"

He fastened arm around my waist right as a car sped by. "If I don't buy them, nobody else will. I'm doing that oaf a favour, is all."

"Why keep that a secret from him, though? Wouldn't the fact that his little brother supports him, delight him?"

"That's why I'll never tell him. Akiya—yeah, he's like you."

"Why does that sound like an insult. . ."

"He's the type to get carried away with his emotions," he elaborated. "Lacking the brain cells he does, he barges into my life with every given opportunity. He disregards personal space. Slams doors. Makes messes. Yells. Crashes on my bed. Goads me until I give him attention. . ."

I'd caught glimpses of a frustrated Kamakiri, but him now, fuming with gritted teeth and flared nostrils, put it to shame.

"I'd rather die than give that nuisance another reason not to shut up."

I was failing to understand how the two of us were alike. From what I could gather, Akiya resembled Hachi. . .

Yeah, okay. Made sense why they didn't get along.

"Akiya aside, what about your dad?" I took his hand in mine to hopefully soothe his exasperation. "I'd feel guilty if I didn't at least introduce myself. You did for my parents and Mao, granted that was an ordeal in and of itself."

One I one hundred percent didn't want a repeat of.

"Him?" His steely, detached tone took me by surprise. "You don't need to."

He set his jaw, his indignation towards his brother buried and long forgotten. I'd stepped on a landmine. Only our footsteps echoed in the chilly autumn night. I gulped, hard, studying his side profile.

Kamakiri rarely mentioned anything about his dad, but it was obvious he was a touchy subject. From the bits and pieces I'd picked up, he was alive and was Kamakiri's guardian. However, if he came up in conversation, his demeanour shifted completely. It wasn't so much hatred. Rather, it was if he didn't consider him to be 'family' at all. Likewise, he withheld speaking out about other aspects of his complicated home life.

While he had a plethora of complaints to offer about Akiya, who was six years older than him, he, on no occasion, spoke of his dad. If he did, it was because I'd insensitively alluded to it, to which he'd offhandedly brush the topic aside with an air of finality. My imagination travelled long and far to string hints together, as it felt taboo for me to outright ask.

Clearly, he didn't want me to ask. Wanted me to be clueless so that he wouldn't have to talk about his dad—acknowledge him—anymore than he had to.

Kamakiri had taken on the role of cooking and cleaning, purchasing groceries, handling finances, and numerous other responsibilities I'd never dream of worrying about at our age. The reason he had to, why he constantly opted for cheaper alternatives, could've resulted from his cryptic father.

While I wanted to bolt this gap between us, rushing him to talk about it would be inconsiderate. I'd hear him out when he was ready. Until then, I'd be here to support him.

Really, that was all I could do.