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The early September morning in the dorm was cold, the only relief from the frigid air the Navigator had came from the blankets surrounding her. A knock rapped on the door, her boyfriend, Makoto entered her room and sat on the edge of her bed. She hugged around his waist, nuzzling her face into his chest. She pulled him closer to her in her bed. His hands played with the hem of her nightshirt, lifting it up a bit to rub small circles into the soft skin of her back.
“Should we get up soon?” Fuuka asked with a sleepy voice, hoping he would say no.
“Probably.” Makoto replied, but she knew he didn’t want to go either.
She rolled over to look into his blank eyes. She never knew what he was thinking. It gave him an aura of mystery, but now that she was supposed to be his girlfriend, it aggravated her more than she’d like to admit. She pulled herself up to straddle his waist and play with the hair that fell over his eyes. After a bit longer of their simple affection, they could hear the rest of the dorm starting their days.
“I’m going to head downstairs, so they don’t get suspicious.” Fuuka explained before pressing a soft kiss to her lover’s lips, “I love you.”
“I know…” He gave her a nearly unnoticeable smile, but it was those small expressions he made that never failed to make her heart flutter.
She got off her bed to head downstairs, her mind wandering back to the boy that captured her heart. For every wonderful trait she loved about this boy, a nagging sensation within her told her that never once in this relationship had he said the words “I love you”. It sounded so silly to the girl to be this hung up on the absence of three words from her partner’s mouth. It even wasn’t out of the ordinary for Makoto not to say anything to her at all while he was with her. She knew his actions spoke louder than his words, yet she longed almost desperately to hear him say them. She decided, in that moment, to do whatever it took to make him say those words.
She stepped down the stairs to the dorm lobby. The day was Sunday, meaning that Makoto was going to make the trek down to Naganaki shrine to meet with one of his friends until evening. This would give Fuuka all the time she needed to create her plan to force him to finally say what he felt toward her. She picked some of the tomatoes and spinach from the rooftop garden to make something. While Fuuka started out quite inept at cooking, through her many nearly lethal attempts, her skills in the kitchen were now passable. She mixed the diced tomatoes with a bed of spinach to make a nice salad which displayed a little SP next to its name. She was unsure why, but Makoto seemed fond of items with that tag. With dinner prepared, she was sure that even a boy as stoic as Makoto couldn’t deny saying he loves her after all this effort.
Makoto returned to the dorm as the sun began to set.
“Makoto!” Fuuka ran to her boyfriend, throwing her arms around his neck to hug him, “I made you dinner.” The farce of confidence the girl mustered to face him like this was immediately torn down by the feeling of his warm lips against her jaw, just below her ear. Her entire face went as red as the tomatoes she prepared. Why, why did he have to make her feel this way?!
“Thanks, Fuuka.” He whispered to her in that damned breathy whisper that steals her own breath away.
“N-n-no problem, Mako…” She stuttered. She leaned into him, putting her weight onto him due to her legs feeling shaky all of a sudden. He walked to the table with her and sat down, taking a bite.
“This is really good. Thank you.” He said after swallowing his first bite. He put more on the fork, but instead of eating it, he offered it to Fuuka. “Open up.” Her mouth opened before she even recognized what he had said.
He fed her the bite; she couldn’t even focus on the taste due to how flustered she was that her boyfriend was feeding her the very meal she prepared for him. She realized she’d have to change her approach if she wanted a confession out of him, she’d have to be more direct. But that could come later, she found herself a bit too entranced by the intimacy of sharing a meal with the same fork as Makoto.
After the meal was over, she headed to Makoto’s dorm room, hand in hand with him, to watch a (probably pirated) movie on his laptop. They both laid on their stomachs on his bed, watching the “Tanaka’s Amazing Cinematography” watermark appear, then fade as the movie started.
Fuuka couldn’t focus. The entire time she should’ve been enjoying this cozy time so close to her boyfriend; she found herself thinking of more ways to coax out of him those three small words which would be the balm to her needy soul. Firstly, she needed his attention. Luckily, she was already more than capable of obtaining that. She leaned over to him and placed a soft kiss against his cheek, prompting him to look over at her. Perfect, now that she got his attention, it should be smooth sailing unless he does something unexpected.
He was on top of her before she realized what was happening. She can’t (and doesn’t want to) protest as he smothers her with his lips, ignoring the movie completely. His lips locked against hers, causing all the noises she made to be reduced to muffled whimpers. All the plots for trying to make him confess vanished as her need for him in that moment took over. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips probed her mouth deeper. They broke apart for air, panting as they looked into each other’s eyes, they wordlessly agreed to switch positions, letting Fuuka sit on his hips and pepper his neck and jaw with kisses. She wanted so desperately to leave a mark on him, but that would have risked the others finding out the extent of their relationship. Her need was too strong. She unbuttoned the first three buttons of his dress shirt to expose enough of his chest for her to press kisses onto. She nipped at his exposed chest, sucking on the skin she held between her teeth to leave a darkening purple mark in its wake.
“I love you…” She whispered breathlessly against his chest, snuggling into him once again.
“I love you too.” He responded, it’s not the grand confession she was angling to achieve, but in a way, this was better. It felt so right, so natural. There she was, in her lover’s bed, holding him and he was holding her. In that moment, she finally understood. His love for her didn’t involve words that would lose their meaning over time. He loved her in a way only his actions could express, a simple “I love you” couldn’t describe how deep his affections ran. She kissed him again, then again, then again. They spent the rest of their evening together, stealing kisses periodically as the movie continued.