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It occurs to him on a Friday night, alone in his bedroom, that he might like Ayase Momo.
It's a calm realization. It doesn't strike light lightning and it isn't noisy or heart-wrenching, but rather tranquil and weirdly fitting. She’s the first friend he's ever had and she knows and understands him. He can talk about aliens with her and she tells him about ghosts and crazy stuff that his old self would definitely laugh at.
So, there's that. Takakura Ken likes Momo. He thinks about saying it outloud, but the words get stuck halfway out of his throat. And his cheeks still heat up, his heart still races and his hands still sweat. He covers his face, shakes his head at nothing, at no one, and lays on his side, facing the light blue wall.
It makes sense that Ken likes her. He might even love her. Maybe—possibly, definitely. He isn't really okay with thinking about that yet.
He thinks about her, then. About that day in the classroom, paper balls being thrown at him and evil laughter, and someone sitting in front of him, a shadow covering his body, stopping everyone, protecting. What are you reading?
He thinks about her helping him, having faith in him, saying trust me, even though since the beginning it was obvious that he would. Always, blindly. Thinks about courage and empathy and justice and how big her heart is. How honest and loyal she is.
He thinks about her, physically. About her hair and her skin and the softness of her thighs when he carries her in his cursed form. About lean fingers and nails grazing his neck, warm puffs of breath when she holds him close, and a body pressing against his back. Is it wrong? This hot feeling that crawls through his body, the way something bubbles impatiently inside of him, threatening to burst—is it wrong?
Ken thinks about her and is rendered speechless. Every. Single. Time.
It really does make sense.