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Nene stiffly stood up. It was like her world was underwater; she could faintly hear Hanako’s voice, but his words were muffled and sounded a million miles away. She numbly touched her left cheek, where the knife had kissed her. She pulled back and stared at the blood coating her fingers.
Her hand trembled, but the rest of her was deathly still as she processed everything—the supernatural had almost gotten her—almost killed her.
That was the closest she’d been to death.
Less than a year to live.
And it was so close—so close that she could have died. Right here, right now.
Someone grabbed her shoulder and she jumped, and suddenly the sounds of the world came back to life. She could hear students laughing from outside the bathroom window, birds chirping, and, and Hanako’s voice—
“Yashiro?”
He turned her about-face. His moon-like eyes widened. “You’re bleeding—”
“It’s just a scratch,” she said quickly, scrubbing furiously at the cut, ignoring its sting.
“Err…right,” he said, fidgeting with the buttons of his uniform. “Are you okay? I know it was a close call and all—”
She smiled, it was tight and painful. “Of course I’m okay!” Everything’s fine. Ridiculous getting herself all worked up over something so minuscule—her death.
“Are you sure—Yashiro!”
She fell to her knees, and the hard bathroom floor stung, but she barely felt it. She quivered, and tears poured down her cheeks, her breath was erratic as she clutched her chest, struggling with each gasping breath. She could have died. Literally died.
He sat on his knees in front of her—
And Nene looked up at him, her tears made him look distorted and yet…her eyes found his lips. Her cheek stung, painfully reminding her that, yes she could have died—but she would’ve died without ever doing the one thing she wanted most—to kiss the boy had fallen for.
And without another thought, she fisted Hanako’s uniform and pulled him against her—and kissed him. She kissed him with all her might—as though she could kiss away the fear of her almost-death—and kiss Hanako so hard that he would know—know how she felt about him.
And when she pulled back, she shyly met Hanako’s gaze. His amber eyes were so round, and his face so red—she was reminded of the day she kissed him on the rooftop. But that had been to cheer him—this kiss was to cheer herself up.
And to be selfish.
“In case I died…” she mumbled as she noticed his hat was missing and his hair was all mussed; her face burned hotter. “I wanted to do that…”
He stared down at the small sliver of space between them. “Yashiro, we can’t.”
Her eyes welled up—
And Hanako blurted out, “I’m dead! There’s no future for me. You can have a life with someone who’s alive—who can take you out on dates—someone you can hold hands in public with—”
“I don’t want any of that,” she said, desperation colored her voice. “I just want you.”
Hanako looked pained by her words, as though she’d slapped him across the face. But then something in his eyes softened. “You’re still bleeding.” He brushed his thumb across the cut with such a gentleness, her skin prickled.
And her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into his touch—his fingers so light as though he truly were made of air itself. And, somehow, they were kissing again. Perhaps Nene initiated it because her hands were fisting his uniform once more, but Hanako’s hands ended up tangled in her hair, pressing her against him.
It was desperate and tasted like salt from her tears, and bitter from her the blood of her cheek. But neither of them cared as they kissed each other like they’d never get another chance to kiss again.
That all they had was here and now.
And in the distance, she could hear the bathroom door open and quickly shut—and silently thanked Kou for not interrupting.