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You always imagine the day it finally happens to be special. Like you’ll roll out of bed one day and just know, with the slant of the morning light angled just right through the windows, as though every little molecule in the air and the clouds and the sun marching itself across the sky have all suddenly come anew with purpose. You’ll find him at school, maybe during lunch, or after classes, or maybe you’ll go with him to his apartment, kneel with your knees pressed against the mat and your hands laid in your lap, look up into his eyes and smile. “Nozaki-kun,” you’ll say, and it will all flow out of you like a breath that’s been bottled far too long. Your heart will unfurl like a flower. “I like you.”
You haven’t thought about it any further than that. The rest, you think, will come as it will, as it wills, and there’s no point trying to predict it. In any case, when you peel back the blinds on your bedroom window, it’s raining. Not today, then, you think to yourself, and you try not to think about whether what you feel is disappointment, or relief.
--
The teacher is talking, saying something important, you’re sure, but you can’t quite focus. Everything is distracting. The rain’s weakened to a slight drizzle, and the sun’s filtering through the clouds, refracting light through every little drop and creating a thousand tiny rainbows. The classroom windows are open, and the air is crisp, clear, bringing with it the smell of fresh rain. You doodle vaguely in your notebook, flowers and birds and five-pointed stars. There’s ink stained into the side of your hand.
Beside you, Yuzuki’s phone is balanced on her lap. She taps out a message one-handed. The sprawl of her posture is lazy, propping herself up on her chair with one arm, legs spread out before her. She’s not even bothering with the pretense of taking notes, instead gnawing on the end of her pen, eyes glazed.
“Who are you texting,” you whisper.
She grins at you, a flash of teeth. Still so sharp, so bright, even in this classroom, even after all these years. “Waka’s appalled by the fact that I’m texting him in class,” she says.
“But he’s texting you back,” you say.
“Exactly.”
You slide out your own phone, hidden under your desk, and turn the screen on and off a few times aimlessly. You wonder what Nozaki’s doing right now, if he’s daydreaming storylines in the middle of class, if he’s writing down notes in a fit of inspiration, ink staining his fingernails.
“Seo-san,” the teacher says from the front of the room. “Please sit properly in your chair.”
Yuzuki straightens up. “Yes, sensei.”
You slip your phone back into your pocket. The classroom clock ticks on, and on, into the day.
--
Third year doesn’t feel much different at all from second year, or even first. The classes are harder, but you’ve gotten used to homework, like you’ve gotten used to everything else, to walking with Nozaki after school to his apartment, sometimes with Mikorin slinging his jacket over his shoulder, or Wakamatsu, still eager to impress with his newly bought collection of fountain pens. And it’s easy, to let the days blend into one another, to be taken through the cycle of the seasons and forget that the earth is tilting into tomorrow, into an unknowable future. You think the first time you realized it was at last year’s graduation ceremony for the third years, when Kashima threw on a solo performance to honour Hori-senpai’s graduation, a group of girls swooning into the ground as she delivered her heartfelt speech. You remember it now, sun gleaming gold on every little thing and cherry blossoms in the air and all of you were there to cheer as Hori-senpai emerged from the crowd and only looked a little disgruntled when Nozaki tried to get him to model his suit for his camera, and the noise was so loud, and you looked around, and it occurred to you that none of it could last forever. That it was the beginning of the end.
Hori’s in university now, and Kashima’s the new head of the drama club, and the world revolves on. The papers and quizzes in school are all asking you the same question, where are you going to go after this, where are you gonna go, where are you gonna go. Your answer is always the same. You wait for the final bell to ring, you pack up your bags, and you go meet with Nozaki to head to his apartment.
--
When it happens, the sun’s position will be just right in the sky, and it will make you brave, brave enough to stand tall and look into his eyes. “Nozaki-kun,” you will say, and it will all flow out of you in a single breath. Your heart will open like the mouth of a river. “I like you.”
What will he look like, then? Firm and fixed, as always? Or will you finally see surprise in his eyes? Will you finally have moved him?
--
“You know what your manga needs,” Mikoshiba says. “Pirates.”
“What,” you say.
“Pirates, man,” says Mikoshiba, and he jabs his chopsticks in the air. “Think about it. Mamiko and Suzuki are enjoying themselves on a romantic cruise, when bam! Their ship is suddenly under attack by pirates. And Suzuki has to battle them in a long heroic swordfight, and Mamiko realizes how much he means to her, and their relationship’s made stronger by their life-or-death situation. It’s genius.”
Nozaki looks like he’s actually considering it, which worries you, but not as much as how Mikoshiba’s still shoveling in his lunch while expanding on his idea. “Please finish chewing your food before you speak, Mikorin,” you say, “or you’ll choke.”
“I’m just saying,” he says, after dutifully chewing and swallowing. “Everyone loves pirates.”
“I don’t know if it suits the genre,” you say. Nozaki’s still looking pensive. “Hey, Nozaki-kun. Do you ever think about ending Let’s Love?”
Now he’s looking at you, bemused. “Why would I do that?”
You return to your bento and pick at your rice. “I dunno,” you say. “Just seems like every story should have an end.”
“Not if it’s got pirates,” Mikoshiba mumbles through a mouthful of food, and then he starts choking.
“I’ll still support Let’s Love for as long as it goes on, though!” you yelp as you jump to your feet, start thumping Mikoshiba on the back. But when you look up, Nozaki’s gaze is still on you, unexpectedly heavy, and you thump Mikoshiba a little too hard, so the piece of egg stuck in his throat comes dislodged and hits Nozaki right in the eye.
--
Your face will not go red, and you will not tremble. “Nozaki-kun,” you will say, and it will all flow out of you like it has already been written before. Your heart will open like a clam, as though the time and pressure that has been burying your secret will have turned it into a pearl. “I like you.”
And he will say something, or he will not, and the days will spin on, and on, and on.
--
The rain has started up again by the time school ends for the day, and you stare bleakly out into the storm, wondering just when you’ll grow up enough to remember to bring your umbrella for once. It’s been a long day. You want to go home, to crawl into bed and close your eyes, and maybe wake up later in the night to finish your homework. Then there is a presence at your side, and you already know who it is.
“I guess some things do change,” Nozaki says, and the crinkle of his smile shows he’s pleased with himself. “I remembered to bring an umbrella this time.”
And really, all you can do is smile. All you can do.
“I was thinking about what you said,” Nozaki continues on, oblivious to your reaction. “About ending Let’s Love. You’re right, I think. It needs to end eventually, open-ended, of course, just to represent the hope of every real relationship. It’s been my safety net, but I should try my hand at another story, test my writing abilities. What do you think, Sakura-san? What do you think of that?”
He stands there, umbrella opened up above his head, still so much taller than you, and as he waits for a response and as the moments stretch by longer you can see his features fold into confusion, into concern. “Is everything all right?”
It strikes you then, something so big you don’t even have the words for, you can’t contain it in your throat. And what a shame it would be, you think, if you never told him – if you never told him –
“Nozaki-kun,” you say, and it is as though something in you has been cut loose, free. Your heart opens like the fingers of a clenched fist uncurling one by one. “I love you. I’ve loved you for a very long time. I just thought you should know. I just thought you should hear it, just once. “
There is no sun, and there is no stop. The rain falls, clinking into puddles, against the sidewalk, and time ticks on. But everything has changed. You think vaguely that you should zip up your jacket for warmth, to prepare yourself for walking home alone, through the storm.
Then you look up, and nothing could have prepared you for how Nozaki looks, like he’s caught in a moment of soft shock, for how he smiles, impossibly gentle. “Sakura,” he says. A burst of sun. He weighs each word with the utmost sincerity, serious. Of course he does – you know no one else who treats love with such respect. “Don’t you think you should hear it, too?”
You think, everything has changed. You think, everything is always going to change. In a few months’ time you will be standing at your graduation ceremony and the sun is going to gleam gold on every little thing and there will be cherry blossoms in the air, and you will turn your head to see Yuzuki at your side, scratching at her itchy uniform, Kashima making her graduation speech, Nozaki taking a picture of Mikoshiba with a flower in his hair for reference, and you will already miss it all in your heart, so sorely you can feel it like a bruise.
But here is Nozaki now, looking at you like you’re what he didn’t even know he was waiting for, and everything is new, and at the same time everything is just how it was before. His reassuring weight at your side, his arm angled upwards, offering the space under the sweep of his umbrella. The immense ache in your chest, pulling yourself towards him, as though caught in gravitational orbit. You take a step forward. And another.
Where are you gonna go, the world is asking, and you look out past the school courtyard and the streets lined with tiny little houses and the shapes of trees in the distance, and for once the possibilities do not seem claustrophobic, but endless. For now, you choose just one, and you fall into it with ease, hand seeking Nozaki’s out of something like instinct as you walk out into the rain, together, as the earth tips on its axis, into the day.