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“I’m sorry,” the redhead said with the sweetest tone Michizou had ever heard. “But, I like someone else.”
Michizou almost choked with his banana milk. He didn’t make a habit out of listening to confessions, but perhaps he should if they were all as entertaining as this one.
In that secluded corner of the school grounds, there was a lone staircase where Michizou liked to take naps when he decided to skip class. It was great to think and to do nothing in a place no one approached.
Yet, that girl asked the redhead to listen to her confession through a love letter in the one place Michizou happened to occupy.
The second he saw them approaching, he hid. He caught a glimpse of them, but all that stuck to him was the bright shade of Tanizaki’s hair.
The girl said it was love at first sight, that he was handsome, and the fact he could cook and made the best sweets captivated her heart. Tanizaki-kun, as she called him, was kind and patient, and got along with everyone.
To that girl, Tanizaki was an angel who helped her whenever she was in trouble. When she didn’t have a pencil, he lent one to her. That time she tripped during P.E, he carried her to the infirmary. She joined the cooking club to spend more time with him and, even though she wasn’t skilled, he taught her and wished her the best.
To Michizou, the redhead was being a nice guy, doing what anyone would do. It was reasonable to help others when they were in trouble. A simple pencil, or taking the excuse to skip P.E, and keeping the peace in the club room, not lashing out at her for being incompetent. For goodness’ sake, she burned water; there was no way she didn’t anger the other club members, especially the upperclassmen. But, Tanizaki was a nice guy, and he brushed it off because she didn’t once claim she knew what she was doing. It was their fault for overestimating her.
The girl, whatever her name was, mistook his friendly nature for romantic interest. A tragic mistake in human nature, to misunderstand the sweet actions of others.
They weren’t even midway the semester, and that girl believed she had already fallen in love. Michizou pitied her. He could see himself in her during his first semester as well. A year had passed since then, and he still couldn’t believe he had confessed his love for someone who was a schoolyear from graduating.
“I see,” she said, unable to be mad at him. With that kind voice, Michizou figured it’d be impossible for her heart not to soften. Besides, he liked someone else. It wasn’t that she was ugly, or that he didn’t like her, but someone had gotten a hold of him before her. “Who is she?”
At the prolonged silence, Michizou felt the urge to sneak a peek at them. If only the redhead weren’t facing the other way, he could’ve seen the expression he was making.
Tanizaki didn’t owe her an explanation, they were simply classmates, and he had just rejected her.
“My childhood friend,” he said after a while. “She’s younger than us.”
But, of course, he was a nice guy, and he wanted to ease the mind of a girl who believed she had fallen in love with him.
“Good luck, then,” the girl bid before leaving.
The redhead exhaled loudly, and Michizou caught a soft thud beside him. Separated by the cement of the staircase, both students remained silent.
Michizou was scared to breathe because Tanizaki might hear him and realize someone listened to the whole thing. They were in a public area, empty but accessible for anyone, so he couldn’t get mad someone was there, but Michizou would rather avoid giving explanations.
Besides, that was their private moment. There was no place for third parties in a confession.
“Idiot,” Tanizaki whispered. For a moment, Michizou feared the redhead might be talking to him. Of course, that was impossible; his hiding abilities were perfect. “A childhood friend? Really?”
Well, if not that, then, why? Maybe the girl was ugly after all, or too overbearing, too sticky, perhaps.
Until he couldn’t hear the sound of Tanizaki’s footsteps leaving, he didn’t move. He noticed he bit the milk’s straw throughout the confession, and the plastic became bent.
There wasn’t any left, anyway.