Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Lately, Kaname Madoka has been hanging out with a boy.

For the past week, they’ve been following the same routine. Madoka would be dismissed from school, skipping her club activities with an excuse that she has something important to tend to—not exactly a lie—and he would be waiting for her somewhere down the street from Mitakihara Middle School, leaning against a tree.

He would idle with his phone in one hand, while the other occupied itself digging into his black pants pocket. His equally as black coat jacket would hang from his shoulders as it normally would, but sometimes it would be draped over one or the other’s arm, covering the stretch of bandages across it, while other times he wouldn’t bring it at all.

Today, he follows his typical get-up, once again treating his coat jacket like a cape over his dress shirt and matching black tie. His hair dangles with his tilted head, covering most of his face like a curtain, which makes Madoka wonder whether he can see his phone properly through all of that.

Then, before Madoka can even reach him or call out to him, the boy would sense her as though he had a sixth sense for it and greet her first, hand waving into the air, smile stretching his cheeks wide. His fluffy brown—close to black when under the shadows—would bounce with his head, like a dog perking in excitement to see its friend.

And excited he evidently is every time Madoka makes an appearance. They’ve only known each other for a week, but the boy always acts as if they’ve known each other for decades. It’s the sort of familiarity that she finds herself easing into without having to worry about making good first impressions, though it doesn’t mean she doesn’t still try.

“Madoka-kun!” he exclaims, his only visible eye turning into a crescent with his smile. “I got us a booking at the cat cafe at Hana Avenue! We’ll make it if we run!”

“Ehh?” Madoka droops as she walks up to him, not at all surprised by her friend’s antics, but still no less slightly annoyed. He takes her by the wrist, calloused hand fully wrapping around it with a gentleness that seems practiced with how unnatural it feels, and drags her along playfully.

She stumbles along with him, but eventually falls into the right steps to keep up, and she soon finds herself running down the street past other people occupying the path. She only just manages to blurt out ‘sorry’s and ‘excuse me’s to them before disappearing farther down the street with her friend still pulling her along like she’s some ragdoll.

When they finally skid to a stop, momentum leads Madoka to slam into the side of her friend’s shoulder, cheek knocking into his bone, stinging it for a brief moment. He, on the other hand, seems hardly bothered nor hurt by this, but she still apologizes. Whether he pretends to not hear her or doesn’t actually catch it, she couldn’t tell, and instead of dwelling on it, she directs her attention to where he’s looking at.

It’s a dingy opened door with a steep wooden staircase behind it, narrow in ways that allow only one person at a time and just as dingy looking. It leads up to the second floor of the building in front of them. Compared to the first floor and the surrounding buildings, which look more polished and well taken care of, the walls of the staircase are stained and old.

An old and fairly dirty sign hangs from the archway to their right, its LED look seems to suggest it glows at night, though its age suggests otherwise. It features a clipart of a calico cat with the words ‘Cozy Cat Cafe’ in a bubbly font surrounding it, and below those words, in the same font, indicates the second floor is where they’re located at. That checks out.

“Where did you find this place?” Madoka squints her eyes upwards to find that the lights are either broken or purposefully turned off for whatever reason.

He grins back at her, “I looked up ‘cat cafe’ and hit the last result.”

She giggles, amused, “Don’t people hit the first result?”

“Silly Madoka-kun,” he wags a finger at her. “That’s not how you find hidden gems.”

Well, she supposes he’s right. It would be better to give attention to the lonelier kitties in more secluded cafes than to visit ones that have received an abundance of love from all sorts of customers over the years, whom which will continue to spread the word of their cuteness to other loving future patrons. 

However, she doesn’t normally explore areas like these often. Not with friends nor family. So it’s hard to shake off the feeling of uneasiness as her friend begins making the first steps up the stairs. She follows in tow, school bag in both her hands in front of her.

Only three-quarters of her foot can safely cover the entire step as she traverses upwards, which leads her to pool the straps of her school bag onto one hand so the other can brace against the wall to make it easier for her to climb up. When she looks up for a moment, she finds that her friend has already reached the top.

His black eye stares down at her curiously, attentively, the shadows doing no justice to his slightly intimidating figure. He’s no taller than Madoka is, but on some days he feels so much bigger than her—and sometimes, though rare as it is, smaller. 

Once she’s made it up the stairs and stands by him, they’re faced with a glass door that pools light onto them. It has the same design as the sign below imprinted on the center of it, the glass mostly frosted safe for the top and bottom borders. The landing, in contrast to the stairs, is bigger and allows them more space to stand, but Madoka still chooses to stand slightly behind him.

When he opens the door, a small and gentle bell rings, and a polite looking lady with wrinkles and snow white hair greets them from behind the desk. Unlike the stairway, the cat cafe has a warm light to it with a homey design. The flooring is mostly wooden, much like the furniture, and the shelves behind the counter are occupied with coffee products and cat trinkets.

To the left of the small room is where the cats are, while to the right is where the waiting area is, along with the cafe part of the cat cafe. The only table they have is the black marble-looking one up against the wall opposite of the counter, long with four tall chairs. Farther down seems to be where the toilet is located.

“Shoes off, please!” says the old lady behind the counter, to which both the teenagers would look down to find that they’re at an entryway with only one pair of shoes neatly tucked into the corner. 

Madoka’s friend kicks off his black dress shoes without much grace and hops onto the flooring, leaving Madoka to help organize his shoes next to presumably the old lady’s shoes before taking off her brown loafers neatly and lining it up with the rest.

While her friend talks to the lady behind the counter about his reservation, Madoka drifts to the gate separating them from the cats. There are only about five. On one of the two beige cat trees lies two black cats that eye her back curiously. In the farthest corner, a white persian cutie has taken to curling up sleepily.

The cushioned sitting area meant for patrons has been solely occupied by their only tuxedo kitty, and lastly their ginger cat sits on the climbing structure on the wall like a loaf of bread, making it hard to tell if it’s asleep or simply resting its eyes. Ironically, there are no calicos unlike the sign suggests.

“Madoka-kun! How many of these cat treats thing do you want?” he points to the collection of thin cat treats of different flavors by the cash register.

“Hum? Like…one for me and one for you?” Madoka answers with her head turned towards him.

“Nah, I’m good,” he waves his hand dismissively, before returning to the lady with three fingers lifted. “I’ll get three then.”

After the purchase is made, the old lady comes around the counter to help them through the gate so they can finally play with the cats, and as they enter the play area, Madoka’s friend hands her the three strips of cat treats he bought earlier. Salmon, chicken and tuna. She only takes one.

A flicker of irritation flashes across his face, but it quickly goes away when the little things come trailing towards them with interest. It seems fairly evident that they haven’t had anyone to come play with them in ages and Madoka becomes eager to divide her attention among them.

Upon closer inspection, the black cats have different eye colors. One of them has green eyes, while the other the more common yellow. Adorably, the green-eyed one has a light, almost white, shade of pink on the insides of its ears which flick at Madoka when it sits in front of her socked feet.

“That’s Noami,” the lady points, then gestures to the other black cat, who has stopped halfway to sit a little farther behind from where Naomi is. “Twilight.”

Madoka squats down to scratch Naomi by the ear, only to notice that most of the cats have come to surround her and only her. Her friend remains stagnant by her side, but does watch on with the same look the cats seem to be giving her. The similarity she drew almost makes her laugh to herself.

The white cat bumps its head against Madoka’s shin, leading her to set her bag down so she can use her other hand to pet it too. Behind them, beyond the gate, the lady continues to introduce the cats, “That one is Princess.”

In the background, Madoka’s friend has taken it upon himself to look after her bag, strolling towards the cushioned seats so he can watch her entertain herself with the kitties. For someone that suggested this outing in the first place, he shows little to no interest in it.

No matter. Madoka may only have two hands, but she’s more than capable of playing with the cats just on her own. Briefly, she brings her hands away, much to the animals’ disappointment, and begins ripping open the salmon cat treat she got from her friend earlier.

The tuxedo cat is the first to dip its face towards the delicious goodie, nibbling at it, while its ginger friend attempts to take a bite out of it with little success. Fortunately, Madoka catches on and manages to direct the strip towards it for them to share.

“Fancy Paws and OJ,” her friend murmurs, which catches Madoka off guard. She smiles, realizing he does have some level of interest after all. She gets up from her squatting position and walks over towards him, tucking her skirt underneath her before sitting beside him.

He hugs her bag a little tighter, it goes unnoticed by her.

The cats meow as they follow after her, each trying to get a lick out of the treat she’s still holding, though Twilight remains somewhat shy and more content to watch from afar. It sits on the coffee table in front of the seats, while the rest either remain at Madoka’s feet or try to climb up beside her.

“Do you want to give it a try?” Madoka asks her friend, holding up the treat while Princess puts its paws around her forearm to bring her hand back down to the rest of them.

“No thanks,” he answers, hunched over and slightly glum. “Cats don’t like me.”

“Aw, that’s nonsense,” she smiles, waving the treat some more. “They’re just shy. This should help with that.”

At the mention of ‘shy’, he lifts a brow at her, skeptical by her statement when his eye glosses over the cats cozying up against her. Nevertheless, he chooses to trust her this one time, and takes the treat from her hand.

Stiffly, he holds it at his knee, chin resting on top of Madoka’s bag, and none of the cats take interest in him. He sours.

“Whatever!” he grumbles with irritation, holding the treat up and away from the kitties, who could not care less where he sticks it. “I like dogs better anyway!”

“Shall we go to a dog cafe next time then?” Madoka asks, but before she can wait for an answer, she watches with morbid horror as her friend proceeds to take a bite out of the treat himself as some sort of revenge ploy against the cats. She expects him to start spitting and coughing it out, but he swallows like it’s no different from a Saturday lunch.

“Yeah, okay,” he huffs, arms folding, and gently she takes the treat away from him in case he tries to eat any more of it. Magically, the cats become interested again at nibbling it. It does not help with his mood.

The lady from the counter enters with two cups, one a mug and the other a teacup, and sets it down on the coffee table in front of the two. Twilight hops off the moment she arrives, but not before receiving a gentle pat from her. Madoka thanks her with a nod and a smile, and gathers quickly that her friend must’ve ordered this for the both of them.

She leans over, surveying their drinks, and realizes that the assignment is wrong. The mug contains hot chocolate, which has been placed in front of her friend, while the teacup in front of her contains black tea. She picks the mug up and gives it a sip, the liquid warming her lips, and she sighs with satisfaction.

Not on par with her dad’s, but still good and delicious as it is.

Her friend slides the cup towards himself and takes a quick sip too with not much expression, puffing a cheek out as he thinks out loud, “Maybe I should’ve gone coffee, after all.”

“How did you know I like hot chocolate?” she asks, setting the cup down so she can return her attention to the cats. She’s already about halfway through the strip of cat treats, though she can’t recall if that’s because the bite her friend took had been particularly large. She hopes not.

“You mentioned it in passing, when we were having pancakes on Tuesday,” he answers swiftly while Madoka continues to occupy herself with entertaining the cats as much as they are entertaining her.

If she can recall correctly, the drinks they had to go along with their pancakes might’ve been orange juice or some sort of fruit tea. She supposes there is a chance she might’ve mentioned it then. Running her fingers through ginger fur while holding the last of the salmon treat up to Fancy Paws, she hums, “What’s your favorite drink, then?”

“Me?” he asks, as if the question could’ve been for anyone else.

“Yeah, you,” she laughs, flattening the fur on Fancy Paw’s head before setting down the now empty cat treat on the coffee table. She takes this chance to drink more from her mug.

“Mm,” he thinks for a moment, before brightly answering with a finger raised. “Lately I’ve acquired a taste for ethylene glycol!”

She tilts her head, confused.

“It’s a really sweet poison, you normally find this in, like, antifreeze,” he explains cheerily, legs swinging despite being too long to be much fun. “I can only ever get one sip in, though. I start getting sick pretty quick…” Then he laughs, like it’s the funniest thing in the world, head thrown back, leaning it against the wall behind them. His hair falls behind his ears, and the bandages hiding his right eye crinkle along with his face.

“That’s not very funny,” Madoka replies, her lips tugged into a small, sympathetic frown.

He stops laughing.

They grow awkwardly silent, and to clear the tension, she decides to try a bit from her friend’s cup. She hasn’t drunk enough tea to know which exactly is her favorite, and when she tries his black tea and finds it to be stronger than what she’s normally served when she’s a house guest, she resists the urge to make a face.

Somehow, despite her efforts, he manages to catch her distaste anyway. He chuckles at her, making her grow embarrassed. After a while, they relax back into their usual mood, and soon Madoka finds it in herself to speak again, “We could find you a favorite drink. That doesn’t, you know…”

“Kill me?” he finishes her sentence, and tightly she nods. He hums, thinking about it, rolling his head about as he drags out his hum like he’s trying to imitate a microwave.

She wonders why he’s thinking about it so hard, but decides not to verbally question it. Patiently, she waits for his reply, all while stroking Noami’s back. Princess is curled up by her side, sleeping away peacefully, and Fancy Paws has wandered off to entertain itself. Twilight continues to watch the two patrons from afar, but would be occasionally interrupted by OJ.

“Maybe we can do this tomorrow,” he finally says, and Madoka feels somewhat relieved that he’s willing to entertain it. However…

“Tomorrow is a Saturday,” she tells him. Not that she’s saying no to his outing request—assuming he hasn’t forgotten the day and this is him requesting—but now that they’ve been doing this for four days straight, it feels a bit odd to break the routine and have him meet her someplace that isn’t the street down from her school. 

She’d have to fret about what to wear too, and then she’d have to explain to her parents why she’s going out and who she’s going out with. She isn’t against that either, but it would be hard to come up with anything when she can’t even pin a name to the person she’ll be going out with, and that would sound awfully suspicious to those that don’t know a thing about her friend.

“Oh, right,” he quietens, head tilting upwards with what she thinks is disappointment. “And I have business to tend to as well…”

Madoka smiles reassuringly, since there’s a simple solution to their predicament, “Monday?”

He kicks his feet childishly, almost knocking against the coffee table, and it causes Twilight to jump in surprise, “That’s too far away!”

“Not really, that’s just two days.” she holds her fingers up, which looks much like she’s shooting him a peace sign.

He slots one of the cat treats into her three remaining fingers and she gasps in surprise. What a clever, scheming boy! She would return it if she weren’t so stunned by how smooth that played out, which makes her suspicious of whether he had planned that. But that would be impossible. No one can predict what sort of conversation would lead her to hold her fingers up like that!

Reluctantly, she keeps it in her hand, and contemplates opening it to feed the treat to the cats. 

While she does that, he continues their conversation with a wide grin, “Well, I guess you’re right. Two days isn’t so bad, after all!”

A breath escapes through her nose and she manages out a smile. She wouldn’t call her friend’s emotions fickle, but often she feels as though he is easy to please just as much as he is easy to upset. She remembers, on Wednesday, he had a quick tantrum about the weather turning too wet for them to play outdoors and brightened when she said the walksways for the shops at Neru Lane would be mostly sheltered. 

Fortunately, she pays no mind to his behavior, chalking it up as nothing but a personality quirk. Despite only knowing him for roughly a week, and still not knowing his name, Madoka feels pleasantly comfortable with his company. Because even with his habit of teasing Madoka like this, and making cruel jokes towards himself, he is, deep down, one of the kindest boys she’s ever met.

In the end, she decides to rip open the strip of the cat treat. Tuna.

Contrary to what you may have been led to believe, Madoka does not have the boy’s phone number.

She had, of course, asked at some point on their outing on Thursday, but he had refused, said something about secrets and leaving behind as little of himself as possible. She didn’t really understand what he had meant, and from what she could understand, she hoped wasn’t true.

In any case, this meant most of her weekend lacked heavily of her dear nameless friend. She didn’t fuss about it, tried not to worry herself with what he might be up to—and what business he was talking about on Friday—and spent her afternoons either hanging out with her family, calling her school friends, or studying.

When Monday comes along at last, she is visibly quick with her packing upon hearing the dismissal bell, to the point even Sayaka notices her eagerness. She grins, laughing in amusement when Madoka catches onto how obvious she’s being, leading her to slow down with pinked cheeks.

“Is something going on?” Sayaka asks curiously, hands behind her back in front of Madoka’s table.

As Madoka finishes the last of her packing, she replies to her friend, “No. Nothing.”

Sayaka leans her body to the side with a tilted head, one foot up in the air playfully as her shorter, blue hair dangles, “Then what’s the rush? I heard you haven’t been going to club lately. Did you get a new hobby? Did your mom sign you up for cram school? Did you join a band?” 

“No, no, no,” Madoka laughs, touching her chin, entertained by Sayaka’s light interrogation. She begins making her way out of the classroom, Sayaka following closely behind her. “It’s nothing, really.”

Sayaka huffs, cheeks puffing out as she runs up ahead in front of Madoka with her shoulders raised, “You’re not a very good liar, Madoka!”

Madoka flushes, unable to answer her. With how long they’ve known each other, it’s to be expected that the girl would be able to recognize when she’s attempting at a lie. Though, there is also some truth in Sayaka’s words. Madoka isn’t very good at lying to begin with.

“Well,” the pink-haired girl starts, lightly kicking her bag in each step she takes. “It’s a secret.”

“Ohh,” Sayaka nods her head, falling back in step with Madoka. “I see how it is. I guess we aren’t that close of friends anymore, huh?”

“I didn’t say that!” Madoka exclaims, growing flustered.

“But that’s what you basically meant,” Sayaka smirks, wagging a finger at her. “Best friends don’t keep secrets from one another.”

“Mm,” Madoka squirms uncomfortably. “But it really is a secret!”

“You’re not up to no good, are you?” Sayaka drops her tone, becoming serious just in case it happens to be that sort of conversation. “Are you in trouble? Are you being bullied? I’ll beat them up for you!”

 “I’m not in danger,” Madoka reassures quickly.

Sayaka groans and slides her bag up to her shoulder so she can rest it on her back, then drapes herself lazily over Madoka, “Then what’s with this attitude? Let me in on this secret of yours!”

“I promise I’ll tell you another time,” Madoka hunches forward with Sayaka’s weight on her, finding themselves nearing the gates to her school. “I need to go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Sayaka-chan!”

She slips herself out from under Sayaka’s body, who stumbles a bit from her loss of support, but manages to regain her footing quickly. Blankly, she blinks at Madoka and watches the girl jog away, waving goodbye to Sayaka briefly before completely turning towards the exit.

Once Madoka is sure her friend isn’t following after her, she stops jogging and looking over her shoulder every five seconds. Feeling her heart beat against her chest, she takes a deep breath to calm herself, then looks ahead and continues her journey on finding her friend.

As expected, her friend is where he usually is, this time sans the black coat jacket he constantly carries with him on his shoulders. However, instead of idling on his phone, he happens to be on a call, which catches Madoka off guard. It must be important, because his brow is furrowed and occasionally his hand would fly in slight irritation, his voice hushed yet no less filled with frustration.

She slows in her steps, giving him enough time to catch her approaching, and when he does see her coming, he pulls away from the phone for a moment, hand on the receiver, and smiles at her gently in greeting. He points with a finger at his phone, before resuming its original position of covering its receiver. 

“Idiots,” he says quietly, and somehow she finds it funny enough to bubbles out a snort.

She stands aimlessly far enough from him to give him the privacy and time he needs to wrap up the call. His voice rises and falls like a rollercoaster, an indication of his mood, and she only manages to catch a few words in his maybe-scolding.

“...barrel…! In the…just… As fast as possible!” then he shuts his phone with a swift click, pocketing it seamlessly. He spins on his heel, instantly brightening up from his earlier sour mood. “Madoka-kun! What shall we do today?”

“Did you forget?” she giggles, eyes can’t help falling upon where his phone has been pocketed into. “We’re going to find out what sort of drink is your favorite.”

He claps his hands together, “Ahh, right! Did you have someplace in mind?”

“Yep!” Madoka nods her head, beckoning for him to follow behind her. “It’s a cafe sort of thing. They’ve got milkshakes and sodas.”

“Oooh,” his eye sparkles with interest, trailing behind her obediently, which Madoka can’t help but find cute of him. Just a second ago he had seemed so grown up, handling that call much like her mama does whenever a troubling thing happens at work that somehow manages to crawl its way into her personal life without her permission.

But now he’s no different than the boy she’s grown to know over the days, a boy that could very well be like any other male classmate she has if their circumstances had been any different. In fact, it’ll almost be exactly a whole week since they first met, and she supposes it must be very fitting that they’re attempting to find a favorite drink for him as a means of coincidental celebration.

‘The Parlor’ is a hop and a skip away from where they came from, only because this cafe had been introduced to her through Hitomi, and they had visited the place after school one time—and of course it had to be close to school to be worth the trip. It was a nice break from their usual fast food options and convenience store trips.

When they reach, to Madoka’s surprise, the place is relatively empty for today. There are few other customers in the far corner of the traditionally decorated room, with typical cafe aesthetics such as the wooden furniture, the occasional potted plant, and decorative shelves with secondhand books.

There is a long counter table in front of the barista counter with rows of tall cushioned stools to sit on tucked under. The current barista—a fairly young man with brown hair swept back—is occupying himself behind the barista counter with making coffee for one of the other patrons. 

Madoka lets her friend do the honors of picking the seats and he immediately goes for the counter chairs, pulling a seat out and climbing on top with one knee lifted to hug. Madoka follows in suit, flattening her skirt underneath her before properly sitting down.

There’s a laminated menu with a metal ring in the corner to connect all the pages together, it sits on the table for them to share, which they do. Much like Madoka had implied, the menu mostly consists of all sorts of drinks, all categorized by types. At the very end, on the fourth page is their short list of snacks they offer. A slice of strawberry cake, mango pudding, one type of mochi that can be ordered in quads and the main three types of ice creams.

“No alcohol?” he jokes when he finishes sifting through the pages, to which Madoka responds by holding onto his upper arm and shaking it gently to convey her annoyance. He relents and drops the joke entirely without so much as a laugh. “I think… I haven’t had sodas in ages, actually.”

“Huh? Really?” Madoka perks in surprise, letting go of his arm slowly.

“Haven’t had the time,” he sticks his tongue out with a gentle knock of a fist to his temple. “It’s been mostly coffee and tea lately.”

“Oh, I thought…,” she trails off, not entirely sure where she was going with that. She thinks it’s because she has the impression that soda, cheap and fancy, is a typical drink most kids their age would indulge in frequently. But, her friend here doesn’t give off the vibe that he’s a typical kid their age.

He lets that conversation fall short and promptly returns his attention back onto the menu. After some random back and forth flipping, he settles for the second page, going for the first item on the soda list. Some fizzy peach-flavored drink. To complement, Madoka goes for a lychee-flavored soda. Then, they play the waiting game.

They’ve mostly wrung out their backstory topics out dry for conversation in the previous days they’ve hung out, so they find themselves reaching the same problem most friends find themselves facing when they’ve talked about everything under the sun. Still, Madoka tries, as awkward and stiff as she may be in her approach.

“So, what did you do over the weekend?” she asks, drumming her fingers against her lap.

“Stuff,” he answers vaguely, then deflects the question back at her. “What about you?”

She resists the urge to reply back the same thing, and tries her best to dig into the depths of her memories for something remotely interesting, “I watched a movie with my family at home.”

“Yeah?” he asks, prompting her to elaborate.

“We mostly watch animated movies, so my brother can understand,” she goes on. “But I don’t think he understood much from the movie we watched anyway. He liked the visuals though.”

“He’s four, isn’t he?” he says, resting his head against his fist, elbow on the table. “He’ll be entertained by anything with bright colors.”

“Actually,” Madoka ponders it for a moment. “He seems to really like Ponyo. We’ve rewatched it twice already this year.”

“Huh.” he says flatly, like it’s just dawned upon him that children are capable of comprehensive thought.

Which reminds Madoka, since they’re on the topic of her brother, “Do you have any siblings?”

He laughs, like she’s just told him a joke, “Nah. Better that way. I can’t look after children, and I’m a hassle to be looked after. Besides, it’d be terrible to have more me’s running around, even if they differ slightly.”

“I wouldn’t think it’d be that bad,” Madoka pouts. “It makes the house a lot less lonely, in my opinion!”

The look on his face darkens for a moment, “Less lonely, huh?” and before Madoka can recover the conversation, or take a step back, his mood returns to normal, “I guess it would be fun to have someone competent at chess to play with sometime!”

“Oooh, chess?” Madoka tilts her head, fascinated. Just as she says this, the barista finally delivers their soft drinks, this time correctly assigned, and she lets her friend try his drink first before giving hers a taste.

When he drinks from the straw, his eye screws shuts from the prickly fizz, but the corners of his lips evidently curl from the sugary taste. He takes another sip, then another, before pulling away at last with a licked smile, “I like that.”

Madoka, similarly, scrunches her face up from the fizz, but is nevertheless pleased by the nice blend of carbonation and lychee. She scoots her drink towards her friend, then takes his, swapping their drinks briefly so they can taste test each other’s choices.

His expression is no different from when he drank his peach soda, but when he pulls his lips away, he declares that, “I don’t really like lychee.”

“Here,” Madoka pushes his drink back, only having taken an eensy sip from it—too little to actually discern a taste to judge. “Would you say that’s your favorite, then?”

“Not yet,” he answers, sticking the straw back into his mouth as he lifts the menu back up. “There’s still so much more we haven’t tried.”

She hopes they wouldn’t be filling their lunch with just soda and milkshakes.

“So, where did you find a place like this anyway?” he asks, steadily sipping away at his peach soda with more interest than he’s ever shown in any other drink she’s seen him drink. Once upon a time, she had assumed he was the sort of mature boy that drank his coffee black because he’s grown much too old to appreciate sugar over bitter caffeine. Now she knows, through minor deductions, that he only drinks them because it might be the only drinks he’s ever known.

“A friend of mine showed me,” she answers, twirling the straw between her fingers. The last time she was here, she remembers ordering a milkshake. Chocolate, to be exact.

“Which one?” he can vividly remember her mentioning a few specific names before, which Madoka also remembers telling him.

“Hitomi-chan,” Madoka answers, taking a few more sips from her drink. “We came here with Sayaka-chan too.”

“That’s the one that…” he presses a finger to his temple, as though that would help bring his memory back better, “...gets loads and loads of love letters, right?”

“Yep, that’s her,” Madoka nods, impressed that he remembers. She thinks she only mentioned that detail once in passing.

“I’m still so surprised you don’t get any,” he grins cheekily, hugging his knee closer to his chest. “You’re the sweetest, kindest and cutest girl in the whole wide world, Madoka-kun!”

“Oh,” she frets, flustered and bashful. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“It’s true,” he waves a finger at her. “I’m so lucky to have met you that day. Just a whole week since that incident at the—”

Before he can finish, he’s promptly interrupted by a voice from behind them spouting an, “Aha!”

They both twist themselves to find the culprit of the interruption. From the corner of Madoka’s eyes, she notices that he’s visibly irritated that he was cut off mid-speech, but the look quickly melts away in favor of remaining polite in a public setting.

To Madoka’s horror, it was Sayaka that had exclaimed earlier, lips curled into a coy smirk with one hand on her waist while the other points at her accusingly. Nose held high, Sayaka continues with her pompous demeanor, still wearing that shit-eating grin, “I caught you~!”

“Wh-What do you mean?” Madoka’s eyes dart about, from her friend beside her, to the empty table to her left, to the potted plant near the door, then back at Sayaka.

“You can’t deny it, Madoka,” Sayaka folds her arms, back straightening, before jumping straight towards her friend to bury her in a hug. “You’re totally on a da-a-ate~!”

“Am not!” Madoka blurts out, eyes rolling, cheeks flushing in deep embarrassment.

Then, Sayaka pulls her away, dipping the girl in her sitting position so that she’s practically lying in Sayaka’s arms, far enough from the boy so she can say in a low whisper into Madoka’s ear, “Are you sure this guy’s okay, though? He looks like a delinquent. Look at all those battle scars.”

“Pull me back up!” Madoka demands with a pressed squeal, afraid that if Sayaka loses her gripping, she would have a heavy fall. Sayaka complies, recognizing the danger hazard late. “Sayaka-chan, please don’t be rude. This is my friend…”

Sayaka waits for the name that should follow, but Madoka doesn’t complete her sentence. Before Sayaka can grow suspicious, however, the boy cuts in, “You’re Madoka-kun’s friend, Sayaka? She’s told me a lot about you…”

“Has she now?” Sayaka grins, turning her chin up again, completely eating up his distraction. “Ah, but it’s Miki to you, buddy.”

“Miki-kun,” he tests, which earns him a half smile but approved nonetheless. To move on from the topic of names, he continues, “What are you doing here anyway?”

“When your best friend’s been disappearing to god knows where after dismissal for the last few school days, you’d get curious and maybe a liiiittle concerned too!” Sayaka holds a finger and thumb up, making a pinching gesture. “She hasn’t been to her club in ages, ya know!”

Madoka squirms, clearly embarrassed when he briefly gives her a surprised look. She’s probably mentioned skipping club activities to him before, but the way Sayaka frames it sounds like she’s a habitual truant—which she isn’t. The Crafts and Gardening club is more of a hobby thing anyway, and expects less dedication unlike more uniformed clubs.

“Aw, Madoka-kun. If I’m taking up too much of your time, you should’ve told!” he says, hand to his chest, with the sort of look she just knows is feigned guilt because he’s used this look countless of times before to mess with her—all of which she’s fallen for before. She thinks she might still fall for it now.

“You don’t…take up too much of my time,” Madoka murmurs, ears burning up beyond human belief. “B-Besides, Sayaka-chan! I told you this was a secret thing! And I’d promise to tell you about it when I was ready.”

Sayaka stumbles back, clearly taken aback by Madoka’s gentle chiding, “Well! I didn’t follow you on purpose. I was going to try the new milk tea and saw you two the moment I entered the door!”

Madoka thinks she remembers seeing that sign somewhere at the front of the store. Still, she can hardly believe how embarrassed she feels right now. Not because of Sayaka’s previous tease that they look like they’re on a date, but because, by all accounts, Madoka is still technically hanging out with a total stranger and anyone with a sensible mind would know to nag her for it—even her best friend.

If Sayaka catches on now that this boy is still, by the book’s definition, no more than just a passing acquaintance to Madoka, she’ll never let Madoka hear the end of it. It might even reach Hitomi! Then, maybe even her parents…!

Oh gosh, just the way she goes on about it in her mind makes it sound like she’s being naughty. She dearly promises she’s not colluding with a potential serial killer!

Catching onto her growing discomfort, the boy sitting beside her with one leg up grows a little serious, and though he doesn’t set his foot down onto the resting piece of the stool to showcase his no-nonsense attitude, he still gives Sayaka a straightforward yet polite smile.

It’s enough to make Sayaka act her age, because she mirrors his mature look when he tells her, “Well, as unfortunate as it is for Madoka-kun to have been surprised by this, I think it’s best you to leave us be now. Perhaps the two of you can properly talk about this matter another time.”

“Oh, uh,” Sayaka says, a little put off by the sudden shift in atmosphere, but gathers quickly—yet a little late—that she’s clearly intruding and overstaying her welcome. She gives Madoka an apologetic smile, which the girl returns with a forgiving one. “I’ll get going, then. Maybe we can get that new milk tea together sometime instead.”

“Sounds great,” Madoka replies, regaining her composure slowly. “Talk to you soon, Sayaka-chan.”

“Uhn,” the girl nods, before heading off.

When Sayaka is finally gone, Madoka lets out a relieved sigh enough to fill a balloon. Amused by this, the boy lets out a short laugh.

“Thank you,” Madoka says, taking a long drink from her lychee soda. “Sorry for being dramatic.”

“You weren’t,” he reassures. “I’d be annoyed too if someone I didn’t invite suddenly appeared out of nowhere.”

“I wasn’t annoyed…,” Madoka mutters, sliding her finger up her glass cup, collecting condensation. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Uh huh,” he bites onto his straw. “Ignoring all of that, Saya- Miki-kun seems like a really fun person.”

“She is,” Madoka smiles against her straw. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was going to tell her about you at some point.”

“When would that be?” he asks curiously.

“When I know your name,” she answers.

“Ah.” he says, the look in his eye blanking entirely, and then when Madoka thinks he might continue with something relevant to the topic, he picks the menu back up. “I want to try the milkshakes next.”

Madoka tries not to feel disappointed.

While he mulls over what sort of milkshake he wants to try, she orders herself a strawberry shortcake so her stomach wouldn’t just be primarily filled with liquids. Momentarily, he leans in, pressing against her when she makes her order, as though contemplating getting his own slice of cake, but decides against it. Instead, he strings out his order of a vanilla milkshake with the whip cream and the sprinkles and the cherry, “Just like the movies.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Madoka asks, more curious than she is concerned. She gently places a hand against his side in order to push him back down into his seat, which he does without much of a fight.

“Not right now,” he tells her easily, sliding his now empty glass of soda aside to be collected later. “I might just get an ice cream after this!”

As he cheerily begins swinging his dangling foot, playing with the seams of his pant leg, his other foot, still resting on the chair, taps on the air to a soundless beat. Madoka finds it a little difficult to match his mood, but manages to feel somewhat happy for him and his cheerful demeanor. For someone that just turned down an opportunity to deepen the friendship, he seems awfully joyful—blissfully ignoring the consequences.

Consequences like: Madoka’s friends finding out about him, her family finding out about him, what she should say when they make reservations together, or when they’re at the doctor’s.

When their orders arrive, a brief thought flashes across Madoka’s mind, clearer than her previous cloudy worries. Just what sort of friendship do they have? What is she to him?

“Madoka-kun,” he grins, holding out his cherry to her. “Can I trade you a bite of your cake with this cherry?”

“Okay,” she says, then slides her plate over first.

The next day, after leaving her house to meet up with Sayaka and Hitomi to head to school, she’s immediately met with Sayaka’s teasing smile and Hitomi’s gentle one. Immediately, Madoka senses that something’s up, and she can only hope it isn’t what she thinks it is.

“Congratulations,” Hitomi says when Madoka walks up to them, to Madoka’s dismay. “Though, I wish you could’ve told us sooner.”

“What did Sayaka-chan tell you?” Madoka frowns with her chin tilted downwards, half in discomfort, half in embarrassment.

“That you got a boyfriend, of course!” Hitomi beams with her hands clapping together. “I’m so happy for you. You’ve always talked about getting a love confession at least once.”

“We aren’t dating!” Madoka huffs, hands pulled into fists and briefly understands what it must be like to be a bunny rabbit throwing a fit. Because, despite her visible irritation, neither girls take her quite seriously.

“Oh, don’t be so shy,” Hitomi giggles as they continue walking towards school. “Sayaka-san tells me he’s a bit of a bad boy.”

“Please believe me, we really aren’t dating,” Madoka frowns while Sayaka adds onto their friend’s laughter.

“Hey, Madoka, if he breaks your heart, tell us!” Sayaka jumps about before swooping Madoka into her arms, hugging her close. “I’ll beat him up for you and Hitomi can scold him!”

Hitomi nods solemnly, which only causes Madoka to sigh deeper. What could she possibly say to convince them the truth when they’re so caught up in the dramatized version of her life? As she’s about to give up and let them have their silly delusions, Sayaka springs in thought, shaking Madoka in her arms as she asks.

“Where’d you meet him anyway? He wasn’t wearing our school uniform.”

Madoka chews on the inside of her cheek, shrugging Sayaka off of her as she adjusts her bag in her hands. She hesitates to answer for a moment, but eventually tells her, “The bridge over the riverbank. I was taking the long way home that day.”

“Wasn’t that last week?” Sayaka recalls vaguely with squinted eyes, Hitomi looks between them, clearly unaware of what they’re talking about.

“Yes,” Madoka bluntly answers. 

“Wow! Then doesn’t that mean you two started dating imme—” Sayaka starts, eyes sparkling in excitement when she’s promptly interrupted by Hitomi, who points a finger towards school.

“We’ll be late at this rate,” she reminds them gently, leading the three girls to hurry it up.

As they run towards the gates of their school, bags now pulled up to their shoulder to make it easier, Madoka thinks about how, perhaps, instead of insisting and clarifying, maybe she should just wait for them to grow bored of her romantic life. After all, the only people this matter concerns are the people involved—Madoka and that boy—therefore it wouldn’t matter what others think, so long the two of them are aware of what they are. Friends. 

Which reminds her. There’s still a bitter aftertaste to yesterday’s hangout left in Madoka’s mouth, an aftertaste that leaves her feeling insecure and worried. As much as she desperately wants to advance their friendship, or at the very least have him admit—or prove—that they are concretely friends, she can’t help but feel a little selfish for desiring such a thing.

At the end of the day, this is more for him than it is for her. 

“Can I meet him too?” Hitomi asks while Madoka packs with less hastiness than she did yesterday, only because she finds herself missing him less today—for no reason other than because she’s had her dose of him quite recently and there is no urgency for a refill.

“Um,” Madoka says slow, despite already knowing the answer to the question. “No.”

“Aw, why?” Hitomi curls herself, leaning forward towards the girl’s table as Sayaka joins Hitomi’s side. With her presence in the room, the boys in her class are lingering a lot longer than they should be. Madoka pays no mind to it.

“He’s shy,” Madoka looks away, fingers brought together, some of them touching her chin.

“Didn’t seem shy to me,” Sayaka quips. Well, it was worth a shot.

“Ohh, I get it,” Hitomi smiles, hands behind her back as Madoka finally finishes up. “ You’re shy.”

Madoka almost freezes in her step, but manages to collect herself fast enough to remember to keep walking, “Oh, hm. Well…”

“Either that, or you don’t want us stealing him,” Hitomi giggles, clearly joking, yet it falls flat for the pink-haired girl, who only forces out a laugh to entertain her. “Oh, but, can’t I at least take a look at his face? Maybe you have a picture somewhere?”

“Ah… I don’t,” Madoka frowns, being reminded that they’ve never taken photos together either. It’s not a must, of course, and she hardly feels bad about it. But when it’s weighted along with everything else, it’s hard not to feel a little put off by that fact. She swallows it down.

“That’s a shame,” Hitomi hums, taking it with more grace than Madoka expected. Though, with more thought put into it, Madoka supposes Hitomi has always been just a tiny bit more mature than the other two combined. In fact, when they eventually reach the gates, it’s Hitomi that helps pull Sayaka back from following Madoka, saying something about leaving them some privacy for once.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow then!” Madoka waves goodbye, skipping off as Hitomi and Sayaka wave back, albeit the latter doing it rather reluctantly. She’s relieved to know that, hopefully, with Hitomi’s growing lack of interest—or pushiness—Sayaka will soon follow suit. If she’s lucky, it’ll blow over immediately tomorrow.

She’s walking towards the usual meeting spot, her mind drifting with thoughts on what they’ll do today, and what sort of treats they’ll get together, when she suddenly feels a presence behind her, before having her eyes completely obstructed by a pair of calloused hands.

Madoka holds back a scream when a familiar giggling erupts from behind her, and as she swings her bag with moderate strength behind her, she hears him yelp and bubble out more laughter, hands falling and freeing her. She puffs a cheek out, wrists to her waist as he clutches his side from feigned pain.

“You…!” she stamps a foot, yet her anger is already defusing as quick as it came. “Don’t play such tricks with me!”

“Aw, but it was funny,” he beams, wiping a stray tear from his eye, and she wonders if the other, beneath all that gauze and bandages, is just as wet too. He’s dressed as he typically would, his coat jacket hanging off his shoulders, his tie not too tight, not too loose. If Madoka stares long enough to judge, she thinks the bandages on his arms are new.

“What are you doing all the way here?” Madoka asks, posture relaxing as she gazes about. She practically just walked away from the school gates, and if she turns back now, she’ll be back in school lickety split. The tree he usually waits for her at is still farther up.

“Oh, I just couldn’t wait,” he sways, hands swinging behind his back playfully. “I wanted to see you sooner, so I thought to surprise you.”

Madoka purses her lips, “Did you have something planned today?”

“Sorta!” he grins, extending a hand out for her to take. “I don’t know if you’ll like it, though.”

“Oh, if you like it, then I will too,” Madoka reassures. She looks at his hand and hesitates for a moment, before gently placing her hand in his. As expected, it is rough as it usually is, and maybe a little colder than she remembers.

“Great! Because tickets are non-refundable,” he chuckles, thumb rubbing over her knuckles, and gently tugs her along. This would be the first time he’s offered to hold her hand instead of taking her wrist immediately, though she never did mind it when he did that. There was a childish charm to it, after all, and he never bruises her on purpose.

“I’d wish you’d let me…” Madoka hops one step forward so she’s matching his pace, “...pay for one of our outings, just once.”

“Don’t be silly,” he sticks a tongue out at her, swinging their arms playfully. “I have more money than I know what to do with. I’m okay with paying.”

Despite this, Madoka is still not pleased, “Still…”

“Come on, Madoka-kun,” he softens, squeezing her hand gently. “I don’t want money to be the reason we can’t do some things or go some place. If I settle the bill, you can settle the fun.”

“The fun?” she echoes, confused.

“It’s an easy job,” he lolls his head to the side. “Just spend time with me, entertain my ideas. Do what’s fun. Together.”

“I guess…I can do that…,” she mumbles, brightening a little with a smile that grows. 

He laughs, light and easy, carefree and like he’s never been happier to have her with him—he always acts that way sometimes—and Madoka almost becomes willing to let her worries go. Willing to fall back into that security that it’ll be okay, even if it doesn’t seem like it, even if there are reasons for her to think otherwise.

Things can be simple if she just goes along with it. Have fun now, ask questions later. Then, if he’s happy enough with her, he might even tell her his name and that will finally solve everything she’s been worrying about.

It dawns upon her a little late, as she’s letting herself ease into the joyful mood that he’s created, that she never got to ask where they’re going and what they’ll be doing when they get there. She thinks they’ve already passed by all the shops they’ve been to before, down familiar streets and through visited paths, and her brain begins working to figure out just what he’s up to this time.

Given he’s taken her to more underground places before, she won’t be surprised if the location they end up at is entirely foreign to her.

And right she was about that.

The building in front of them is only a single story, with glass windows and a glass door. The surrounding buildings are of similar height, of various color and purposes, and the street itself is quite vacant of people. There aren’t even any cars passing through on the road behind them.

Beyond the glass door, there’s a white wall with a single doorway inside, barricaded behind a simple red stanchion, which leads to the next room, and just a few paces next to this doorway is a receptionist counter made entirely out of cheap white tablecloth that hides a table underneath. The young lady manning the counter looks to be idling on her phone under said table, occasionally pushing up her thick-rimmed rectangular glasses from falling off her nose.

Madoka still hasn’t gotten the faintest idea what they’re doing here, though she supposes she won’t have to remain in the dark for long now that her friend is dragging her inside. Without letting go of her hand, he produces two tickets from the inside of his coat pocket, holding them up for the receptionist lady to see.

On brief observation, Madoka gathers, quite quickly, that they’re tickets to an art gallery. Which means, behind that stanchion, the room inside is filled with paintings and the like. She thinks she might’ve mentioned once, or rarely, that she’s interested in art, though never specified what kind. How he managed to guess this would be up her alley, she decides must’ve been pure luck.

He leads her inside when the tickets are settled, and that’s when he finally lets go of her hand so she can free roam around. The gallery mostly features local artists. Independent, art university, art clubs from neighboring schools. Yet, she thinks they’re just as stunning as any big-named painting out there.

She drinks it all in, steps slow and melodic—faintly, she can hear classical piano play in the background—and admires each painting with as much care and attention as one would give to nurse a wound. Her friend, on the other hand, has taken to sitting on the benches placed in the center of each section, and would move each time she shifts to the next section.

Because the gallery is small, smaller than the other galleries with artists of more prestige, it only takes them half the afternoon to finish observing all the art. When Madoka finishes, she finishes with a content sigh, eyes lidding, lips smiling, and she turns to find her friend smiling at her the same.

“Which was your favorite?” she asks, his eyes following her when she bounces in her step and sways gently. For once, the deep pool of ink has some sort of light within it, although small as it may be. When she blinks, it’s gone.

“I liked the one with the angel,” he answers, and she turns her head in search of this painting. 

Not far up, the painting he speaks of with the angel uses a great deal of white and shadows to enhance the details. Her hair like snow, her skin glowing bronze. Her eyes are lidded, lashes like the feathers of a dove. She looks peaceful, gentle, kind. But, her wings almost swallow her whole, her halo more like a spotlight. She doesn’t smile, not really.

“What about you?” he asks her when her gaze returns back to him.

Madoka hums in thought as she turns back to survey the paintings and almost wants to say she doesn’t have a favorite, but truthfully, one of them did lull her in the longest, capturing her interest the moment she laid eyes upon it. She answers, turning her head slowly back to him, “The one with the white tree with a few red leaves.”

A landscape of a field with two trees, one to the left in the foreground, another to the right in the background. They’re, as she describes, white, thin, and sparsely scattered with crimson leaves. The field and the leaves all lean towards the right, as though a wind was blowing against them when the painter had captured the moment. It’s a somber piece, to say the least.

“A bit lame, I could paint that too,” he chews out, but when Madoka shoots him a look to behave, he smiles. “Well, if you like it, so do I.”

She mirrors his expression, appreciating that he would entertain her.

“Hey,” he starts, getting up from the bench. “You hungry? I really want a burger right now.”

It’s been a while since she last had fast food—the places they’ve been going were a variety of cafes, diners and restaurants that Madoka could never afford to visit so casually and so many days in a row—so it doesn’t take long for her to agree to his suggestion.

“Awesome sauce,” he hops to his feet, coat flapping behind him. Once again, he extends a hand for her to hold, and it takes even longer for her to take it thanks to the few people present in the gallery. They, however, have no interest in what they do, though she still can’t help but feel watched anyway.

He pulls her along as they exit the gallery, and without pulling up any sort of map or asking for directions, he manages to locate the nearest burger place he can find. It makes Madoka wonder whether he planned this part of their hangout too, only out of curiosity, but she doesn’t think to ask.

“Oh, by the way. Did you manage to talk it out with Miki-kun?” he questions, pushing the glass door open to the sound of other patrons having their own late lunches. It’s by no means crowded, but with how it usually goes with fast food places on a city street, it is never truly empty. “Also, do you want the kids meal? It comes with a toy.”

“Not really,” Madoka answers the first question, looking away, then at their interlaced hands. “And, no. I’m too old for that.”

“You’re never too old for anything,” he flashes her a grin, shaking her hand gently, before softening. “Why not?”

“She’s convinced you’re my boyfriend,” Madoka sighs with exhaustion, realizing she hasn’t had the opportunity to vent this trouble to anyone yet. She’d tell her mama, if it didn’t mean admitting that she’s in contact with a total stranger. “I keep telling her we’re not dating, but she doesn’t listen.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” he quirks his only brow up, then approaches the counter. “Two cheeseburger meals!”

“Please,” Madoka adds for him when he doesn’t, before continuing on. “We aren’t dating, though. Telling her so would be lying.”

“And is lying such a bad thing?” his lips curl, like she’s toying with her and her words, and returns to the cashier so he can add. “Lemon tea for the drinks.”

“Please,” she says for him again, then pensively looks away, finding it hard to feel irritated, yet feels some semblance of that anyway. Exasperated, maybe? “Oh, you know I can’t lie. I don’t like to.” then looks back at him, a bit perplexed, “Why are you downplaying this matter so much? Do you want it to be true?”

It’s an honest question not meant to sound remotely accusatory, yet she acknowledges that it comes as such anyway. Fortunately, the boy is intelligent enough to recognize what she means without her having to explain herself, and he hums in answer, “I just think it isn’t worth getting worked up over, that’s all. But for the sake of clarification, I don’t see you that way. Madoka-kun, to me, you’re just a very dear friend.”

Oh. Isn’t that convenient? Just hours ago, she had lamented about this matter, and it gets solved, almost immediately. Like he read her mind about it, and thought to ease her worries. She blinks at him, lips parting, almost in surprise, though she’s not sure how obvious this shows. Still, if he’d let her, maybe she could just be a little more selfish.

“Then, if that’s the case, could you tell me—” she doesn’t get to finish when their order arrives, and he’s quick to slip his hand out of hers to collect their tray from the counter. He makes a happy sort of noise, now entirely focused on their meal, and spins on his heel towards the seats.

“Let’s go sit down and eat!” he declares cheerily, and with almost no choice, Madoka swallows her question and nods.

“Oh, okay,” Madoka bounces along with him, letting him pick the seat.

He goes towards a corner booth seat, far from everyone else, far from the counter and far from the door. She doesn’t think much of it and sits across from him, taking one of the packaged burgers into her hand so she can start unwrapping it to eat.

Beside them, there is a window. It opens to the street and nothing more.

“If your friends are bothering you too much about it,” he says, returning back to their earlier main topic. “I can help get them to stop.”

Oddly enough, Madoka feels a bit uneasy with his phrasing, like he means so much more than what he lets on. She takes a bite out of her burger, chews, then swallows, “They’re only teasing. I’ll be okay.”

“The offer stands regardless,” he beams, holding up a french fry to wag at her face, before popping it into his mouth. “You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Madoka-kun!”

She flushes, embarrassed, and holds her bitten burger up to her face like it can help with hiding it, “I could say the same to you too.”

He sparkles, beyond elated she would say such a thing, “I’ve never met anyone kinder than you, Madoka-kun.”

“Awh, that’s a lie,” her hands lower. She takes another bite out of her burger, he takes another fry. “I’m sure you have other, cooler friends than just me.”

He stares at her for a moment, his eye, briefly, a bottomless pit of just black and more black. She thinks, maybe, she might’ve said something wrong, and wonders if she should apologize, but he soon recovers, smiling his eye into a crescent, “You’re my first real friend.”

Madoka thinks that might explain a lot of things, yet feels touched anyway, “Really?”

“No one has cared so much about me before,” he laughs, resting his bare cheek against his palm, and indulges in another fry. “No one has done so much for me before either.”

“Oh… I’m glad. I’m really glad I can be that kind of person for you,” she smiles gently, pinching the wrapper of her burger. “Being your first friend is really an honor, but I can’t imagine why there hasn't been anyone before me. You’re a nice boy. It’s always so fun being with you.” then she looks down at her burger, at the bites she’s taken, “Sometimes, you make me wish we could hang out forever.” 

“Waaaaa,” he cries, lurching forward to grasp her wrist with both his hands. “Madoka-kun!”

“My burger!” she yelps, almost losing her gripping of it. He holds her a little bit longer, before reluctantly and slowly letting his fingers slip away. She can almost hear his thoughts through the way she feels his hands leaving her wrist, like he already regrets letting go, like he can’t bear to not hold her any longer, like he’d die without her.

Weirdly, it warms her. If she inspires him so much, she must be doing good. She’ll hold back her complaints for now, as long as she needs to, and then, one day, when she sees him again, he’ll be a completely different boy from the one she met on that very evening. Changed, better, happier, and more willing to open himself up to her. Finally tell her his name.

In some way, she feels like a hero. His hero.

With her mood slightly lifted, and her worries reassured, she goes back to how things were when she first knew him. He stays consistent with his earlier familiar attitude, but it’s definitely grown more sincere since then. To make matters better, Hitomi must’ve talked to Sayaka, because they’re not bothering Madoka as much about the boy anymore.

On their walk to school, they mostly chat about what Hitomi should do with her latest love letter, making jokes about how she must know the exact dimensions to the small space behind the school at this point. Briefly, Hitomi does touch on the boy, but only to ask how their “date” went yesterday.

Lightly, Madoka reminds them that they’re still not dating, but goes on to tell her friends about the art gallery he took her to. Aside from a simple “How romantic!” from Sayaka, they don’t make much fuss about it.

Then the day goes on as usual.

Her friend had asked in passing, shortly before ending their outing yesterday, whether Madoka would be okay travelling a little farther this time. 

“Bus-ride far,” he clarified, in case she was confused.

She said she didn’t mind, but if they were to stay out too long, she’ll have to call her parents and let them know she’ll be home a little late and might have dinner out. It wouldn’t be her first time doing this, though her parents would assume she’ll be out with Sayaka or Hitomi or both—and most likely wouldn’t check to clarify.

It should be okay. He isn’t a dangerous person, anyway.

“You should take a break from him sometime,” Sayaka tells Madoka when they’re on their way out of class, meeting Hitomi halfway. She won’t be joining them to the gate today, since she has a confession to turn down in a bit. “We still haven’t tried that new milk tea, you know.”

“I’ll think about it,” Madoka says, smiling gently. “We could go on the weekend. Him and I don’t hang out on the weekend.”

“Yeah, because you’re with your family during the weekend,” Sayaka deadpans, arms stretching foward. “I wouldn’t want to snatch that time away from you.”

“I’m sure he can spend one day without you,” Hitomi says with a small smile, and Madoka isn’t very sure of that. “How about the end of this week? You can let him know later.”

“I’ll try,” Madoka mutters, remembering how disappointed he looked when the weekend came and they, supposedly, couldn’t hang out. Well, actually, it wasn’t so bad. He seemed perfectly fine when Monday came along. He should be fine with one day of absence if he’s survived two before. 

As they leave the school building, Hitomi parting ways with them so she can go see that poor boy behind the school, hand waving gently and gracefully as she always does, Sayaka and Madoka begin their short walk towards the school gate, where they will part ways too.

Sayaka is rambling to Madoka about something small from her time at the hospital with Kamijou—something along the lines of how she’s going to try finding some CDs of violin playing for him soon—when they finally reach the end and Sayaka quickly wraps up her words so they can head off separately.

They’re about to wave goodbye to each other when Madoka hears someone approach her from behind, leading Sayaka to perk up in recognition and surprise. When Madoka herself turns, she’s pleasantly surprised as well. Emphasis on the ‘surprised’.

“Hehe, hi Madoka-kun!” he giggles, hands waving in front of him. “And Miki-kun.”

“Oooh, came to pick her up, huh?” Sayaka laughs slyly, before slapping Madoka on the back, knocking the wind out of her almost, and hops backwards. “I’ll leave you two to it then! Bye bye!”

He smiles, waving goodbye to her too, before returning to Madoka, who has yet to recover from his slight shock of seeing him all the way here instead of all the way there. It takes her a moment, but she manages to gather the right words to ask, “Have you grown bored of waiting at the tree all the time?”

He picks on the coat on his shoulders, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets with a grin, “Sorta? I wanted to get to the bus as quick as possible, that’s all.”

“But the bus is the same way—”

“And I wanted to walk with you all the way,” he adds with a finger held up. “Part of the fun!”

“Oh,” she says, pinking slightly, flustered. “Okay.”

He curls his hand around Madoka’s without prompting, not that she particularly minds, and begins leading the way towards the bus stop, despite her knowing where it is. It’s hard not to feel a little shy when he’s being so forward with her, even with her other friends she can be caught off guard by how affectionate they can be. She thinks she may not ever grow used to the way Sayaka would cling to her, the same way she can’t seem to get used to the feeling of his hand around hers.

It’s not a big deal, she knows it isn’t, but just when did they get to this point? This comfortable closeness, this gentleness. It almost feels no different to how he would used to only hold her by the wrist, yet at the same time it’s not entirely the same. He confuses her, that’s all.

Well, if it makes him happy, it makes her happy too. She does the courtesy of doing the first playful swing he likes to always do, which earns her a wide smile from him. He swings their arms next.

When they reach the bus stop, the bus they’ll apparently be taking coincidentally arrives the exact moment they set their feet down at the stop. He boards, pulling her along, and as they sit together, Madoka’s bag on her lap, his elbow on the window sill while he gazes out the moving scenery, she waits for the surprise of where they’ll be going to be revealed soon.

He, however, does not reveal where they’ll be going, and doesn’t speak much throughout the ride. She contemplates starting conversation, or switching to idle on her phone, when she remembers something. To check if she can go through with her newly thought out idea, she leans her head forward, attempting to catch his gaze, “How long will this ride be?”

“Mm, I think half an hour-ish?” he turns to look at her, leading her to lean back into her seat comfortably.

“Then, let’s listen to some music,” she smiles, pulling her phone out while she digs for her earphones in her bag. She only brings them sometimes when Sayaka wants her to listen to something she found, so she’s glad she remembered to pack them this time. She holds both earbuds out so he can take his pick, and he takes the right one.

She puts in the left one, realizing that his choice has caused them to squeeze together closer in order to keep the wires of her earphones from straining. She decides it doesn’t matter and plugs her earphones into her phone, opening up the mp3 player app with a few beep, beep, beep’ s. Her collection of music is outdated to some extent—she doesn’t remember the last time she added new music in it—but she still manages to jam along with the tunes.

Her friend shows mild interest, finger tapping to the beat on his knee, but Madoka finds that he’s always been a little more mellow when it comes to these things.

She has enough music to last them the entire ride, and they’re in the middle of ‘ Hanbun Fushigi ’ when he tugs on her sleeve, gesturing that their stop is arriving soon. He looks a bit reluctant to pull the earbud out, but does so anyway. Taking her hand for a moment, he gingerly places it in her hand, then they both get up from their seats. He rings the stop bell, and as the bus pulls to a stop, doors opening with an airy sound, they hop out together.

“There’s still a bit more walking,” he tells her, automatically sliding his hand into hers again without much thought. “But we’ll be there soon.”

“Okay,” she replies, giving him an excited nod. 

Her eyes glance about, recognizing close to nothing in this area. There are few buildings in the area and she thinks she can smell something salty in the air, which easily disappears along with the wind when she tries to get a better sniff. There plenty of other people roaming about, seemingly heading towards the same direction as they are.

In the distance, she spots several towering metal structures that rattle occasionally with lighting fast carts. Roller coasters. She realizes, in that same moment after, that they’re about to head to an amusement park together. Hopefully there are other less thrilling rides, because Madoka doubts she’ll be able to survive so many roller coaster rides back to back.

Once again, her friend settles the tickets for them, and they both head inside the amusement park together.

It’s a loud and noisy place, with crowds of people that either carry toys won from games or food bought from stalls. Madoka’s gaze lingers on all the stuffed plushies other people carry and wonder which games won them all of that. Perhaps this must be why he thought this would be a good place to take her, if not because she might’ve mentioned once going on rides with Sayaka once in the past.

That girl prefers the thrill of roller coasters more than Madoka does, and in the back of her mind, she thinks about how nice it would’ve been if Sayaka had joined them.

“You want one of the plushes?” he smiles, catching her staring at the others.

“I’m not very good at games,” Madoka admits, though secretly she wants to say yes.

“That’s okay, I’ll win them for you,” he holds a fist up, pumped and ready to take on any challenge to get her an adorable new friend. “I’ve been told I have great aim.”

“You must play a lot of games then,” she laughs, amused with his self-praise. 

He smiles back at her, light and soft, “Yeah.”

Then he drags her along to the first game booth with the biggest plushie that can be won, and she finds it difficult to stop him and look for something smaller—only because he looked so excited about it. The game he picks is a shooting game, with rows of thin wooden pegs on several shelves. It seems, to win the game, one must knock down as many pegs as possible in a row. One miss and it’s game over.

He’s handed a cork gun and a basket of corks for bullets by the stall owner, who seemingly smirks in mockery at the boy—no doubt because of his bandaged eye. She frowns, irritated on his behalf, but when her friend says nothing about it, she doesn’t either.

She wouldn’t say she doubted him when he said that he could aim, but anyone would be surprised if they saw their friend knock down almost every single peg on the shelves with ease. The only times he’s ever stumbled is when reloading, and the only reason he didn’t get them all is because he had already reached the highest possible score there is and the stall owner wanted him to stop—less hassle to clean up that way.

“Aw man,” he mumbles when the gun is taken back, but he immediately brightens back up when the owner hands him the largest prized plushie, the size of his torso. It’s a bunny, whose stuffed ears would slap Madoka in the face if she tried to swing it too hard. It wouldn’t hurt, though. Probably.

To try, she gently spins the huge bunny around, its ears swinging, and it promptly knocks her friend in the side of the face.

“Hey! Treason!” he accuses airily with his finger pointed at her, bubbling out a laugh. “I’ll have you executed!”

“Noo,” she giggles back, pulling the bunny close to her body like a shield. “I’m sorry!”

“Too late! Bite the curb, Madoka-kun!” he makes clawing gestures at her, pretending to be a monster while he chases her around.

What a funny punishment. She laughs, head thrown back, pigtails swinging like her plush’s ears are as she runs from him, “There aren’t any! You’ll have to forgive me now, right?”

He catches up to her when she slows down—the weight of her bag on her shoulder does little to help her stamina—and he grabs her shoulders gently with a hum and a smile, “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough,” she muses, and they continue on together, walking aimlessly to the next fun thing they can do.

He’d probably play more games and win more prizes if they had the arms to carry it, so they settle for the real main attraction of this entire place: the rides. Because he senses that Madoka may not be all too eager to get on a roller coaster so soon, he finds something more down low, and stumbles upon the spinning tea cups ride.

He tugs on her sleeve, pointing towards the growing line to the ride, and she brightens. They both make their way over, beginning to queue together, and when they reach the end in due time, Madoka sets her things down in the little cubbies meant for keeping one’s belongings while enjoying the ride, and they both get into one of the tea cups.

They sit across from each other and Madoka lets him have his way with the wheel in the middle. She holds on, expecting him to spin as fast as he can the moment the ride starts, but when the ride starts moving and the music starts playing, he only turns the wheel at a steady pace.

Both their hair fly in the wind, and occasionally he would tuck his hair back when it flies in front of his face, only for it to come undone and come dangling about in front of him again. She giggles at his irritation, and hearing her laugh, he laughs too.

As the ride comes to a stop, he gets out first, running up ahead while she steadies herself. Looking up, he can see that the ride has done wonders to his hair, making it stick out in awkward angles. She holds back a laugh, not wanting to make fun of him. Then, she spots him taking her bag for her, and when she extends an arm out so he can hook it on, he shakes his head at her. Instead, he puts her plush in her arms.

“Let me hold this for you,” he smiles, and despite only having one eye, Madoka senses that he’s winking at her. She lets him have her bag without much fuss and tucks the plush under one arm so she can help fix the back of his hair.

She’s always thought it looked fluffy, maybe at worst tangled, but now that she’s feeling it between her fingers, she can feel its odd texture. She wouldn’t call it dirty, not really. More like, not-so-well taken care of. The longer her hand sifts through his hair, the more she tries to remember what this texture reminds her of.

“Hey, look! Cotton candy!” he points towards a cart selling an assortment of snacks. Popcorn, hotdogs, and as he pointed out, cotton candy. There’s also a hanger with several hairbands on it, all differently animal themed, but the bunny ears stick out to her the most because it would be funny if she wore them to match her new toy.

“You want some?” Madoka asks as they begin approaching the cart anyway.

While he’s purchasing his snack, Madoka’s eyes continue wandering the headbands with slight interest. When the cart owner gets to work on making her friend’s cotton candy, the boy leans towards her curiously, matching her gaze and asks, “Do you want one?”

“Ah, no,” she turns to look at him, before turning her eyes back. “I’m just looking.”

“Okies,” he hums, taking his cotton candy. He tears a piece off to eat, and just as he’s about to direct them away to do something else, Madoka perks, a thought popping into her head.

“Dog,” she says out loud. That’s what his hair reminds her of. A fuzzy dog.

“What was that?” he snorts, bemused by her sudden out loud declaration.

“Nothing,” she flushes, since she hadn’t meant to voice it out. 

He blinks at her, then smiles again, “Alright.” before holding out his cotton candy to her, “Do you want a bite?”

She leans forward and takes a nibble, the other parts tickling her face, “I can never eat these right. Sometimes they get stuck in my hair.”

“Heheh, that’s why I tear it out to eat,” he pulls it back towards himself and does as he stated, then tears another piece to hold out for her. She takes the bite. It’s a much bigger piece than her nibble from earlier.

They go on a few more casual rides when he finishes his cotton candy—it only took him a few more bites to finish it completely—and Madoka enjoys each one. They might not be as thrilling as a roller coaster, but somehow riding them with her friend makes them just as fun. From boat rides, to carousels, to train rides.

He managed to convince her to join him on a viking ship, and admittedly, she did have fun on that too. Though, the feeling of her insides flying up did feel as strange and uncomfortable as she remembers. Eventually, they babystep their way to queuing for a line to a roller coaster. No upside down parts though, she really can’t do that one.

The ride before this was a thrilling boat ride with occasional splashes and frequent falls. Her stockings had gotten drenched, though somehow the parts near her feet remain dry. Her friend, on the other hand, has to now hang his coat on his arm because it did not survive one of the bigger splashes. 

It stopped dripping long ago, and when Madoka had expressed some bit of grievance for him, he said, “Hah! It’s been wetter, in dirtier water.”

She couldn’t quite bring herself to laugh at that, but he fortunately laughs enough for the both of them.

Nervously, as their turn came up, she boards holding onto her friend’s arm tightly with her eyes sometimes squeezing shut. It’s not as bad as she makes it out to be, but it’s hard to overcome such a fright so quick. She admires how there’s little to no fear in her friend’s eye, but then again, he hardly ever looks afraid of anything.

When they pull the seatbelts down, she goes from holding his arm to holding his hand, then whispers out, voice strained, “Sorry if I hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t, even if you tried,” he drawls back, then gives her hand a comforting squeeze. It works, and her heart hammers a little less in her chest. 

Then the ride starts.

Of course Madoka knows that roller coasters aren’t all just fast rides and insane drops. To even drop to begin with, it has to climb, and the climb is always excruciatingly slow. To Madoka, however, she quite appreciates this part of a roller coaster ride. The view is always nice, the anticipation plays with her feelings with little lies—she knows what comes after, so it’s easier to make peace with it.

When she looks over her shoulder, her friend is spotting a similar look. His face is tranquil, the smile he carries is vague, but a smile nonetheless, and the grip he has on her hand is gentle. She wouldn’t say it’s the first time she’s seen him wear that face, but it is a rare sight. She thinks she likes it when he looks like this.

She forgets where she is until she feels gravity pull her back into reality, literally. Her hair flies back, and instinctively, she lets out a scream. She hears her friend follow suit, screaming hoarse and joyful. He pulls their hands up into the air and she’s digging half-moons into his flesh with her fingernails. There’s that feeling in her stomach again, and the wind is so cold against her face.

But the thrill is fun, sorta, so even though she’s screaming her lungs out, she finds it in her to smile along the way. The roller coaster twists and turns in rapid speeds, throwing her hair about. Beside her, he’s letting out breathless laughs between each yell, and somehow that entertains her enough to laugh a little bit too. 

At some point the ride slows, before they find themselves falling backwards, which catches Madoka off guard. The sound she lets out is genuine terror, and she’s crushing his hand, she thinks. He snorts, amused by this, and she would apologize if she wasn’t so busy replacing every attempt at a word with a scream instead.

Eventually the ride comes to an end, and the seatbelts lift themselves up. Madoka is still in a half state of shock, and rigidly it takes both of her friend’s hands to help pull her out of her seat. Her knees feel like boiled noodles, but she manages to get back her composure fairly quick.

She thinks she catches a glimpse of what damage she’s done to his hand, but he hides it pretty quick. Before she can say anything about it, he’s already talking.

“I guess that makes that the last roller coaster we’ll ride for today,” he chuckles at her, collecting their things from the cubbies. He squeezes his coat a bit to check whether it’s dried while they were away, and predictably, it isn’t. He sighs deeply and drapes it over his arm anyway. Then, he takes Madoka’s bag for her, and she retrieves her huge stuffed animal.

“It’s getting a little late too,” she looks up into the sky, a watercolor gradient of orange and yellow. “Let’s call it a day and get something to eat.”

“Did you call your parents yet?” he asks, heaving her bag over his shoulders, using his fingers to hold it by its straps. “How does hot dogs sound?”

“I did. Also, they might sell bentos here too,” Madoka muses, vaguely recalling seeing a stall for it. “Let’s get that instead.”

“Okies,” he skips along, somehow knowing just exactly what she’s talking about. She follows behind him, because she’s seen him walk to places with full confidence without getting lost enough times to trust that he knows where he’s going, even if he sometimes shouldn’t . She has a theory he has a GPS built in that head of his.

Expectedly, they find themselves in front of the stall Madoka had vaguely recalled. There are a lot less bentos than she last saw, obviously, and the boy helps pay for two boxes. But, as they look around, they find that there aren’t any seats they can use to sit and eat at. The few seats that are present have already been taken up, which is really a bummer.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got an idea,” he beckons her to follow, and obediently she does. They walk on for ages, and at some point Madoka realizes they’re walking towards the direction of the exit. She wonders if his idea is finding a seat outside the amusement park, which is pretty intelligent of him.

They trail out of the amusement park and he continues guiding her down the road. The streetlamps illuminate the path like little stagelights, and soon the sound of the amusement park goers grow fainter and fainter the farther they walk. Eventually, they reach a small set of stairs, and when they walk down, the boy glancing back occasionally in case Madoka trips on her way, she realizes he’s taken them to the beach.

She doesn’t know why she hadn’t noticed the sandy shores sooner, but she supposes that would explain the smell of salt in the air. Then, a moment later, as they’re walking down the beach, she wonders just where exactly are these seats anyway. Why are they on the beach?

“Beach picnic,” he stops in the middle of a nice spot—all the spots are nice, when there aren’t many people around—and turns to look at her with a cheeky smile. “Since my coat is already wet, let’s just use it as a makeshift mat!”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” she frowns, but he’s already flapping it out, trying to dry it as much as possible for sitting. Then, not long after, she watches as he lays it down on the sand, gives it a good pat, and sits. So, Madoka decides there’d be no point refusing any further, and sits with him. 

It’s a little damp, but it doesn’t stain her own clothes, so it isn’t that bad. On top of that, given that it’s a coat, it’s a little cramped too. They’re sitting almost shoulder to shoulder with one another, and she encouraged him to put her bag on the sand to make space for them. He complies, only because she insisted. Her bunny, too, sits on the sand—much to her dismay.

The worst part of all of this is only the fact that he had to sacrifice the coat in the first place, though he looks fine with it. He hands her one of the bentos and gets cracking, digging into the cheap but still delicious food. She fumbles a little, given the fact that she hasn’t got a light to work with to see where she’s picking, but manages to get it open to eat too.

Their meal is mostly made out of rice, eggs, and chicken. There are tomatoes and other various fruits and vegetables, but it’s hard to tell exactly since she can’t see much. Though, she believes she tastes potatoes. In a quiet voice, she thinks she heard him mumble about the egg not having enough salt, but she thinks it’s okay.

They eat in silence together, their only form of ambiance being the sea’s tide, which is calming enough to keep the atmosphere comfortable. While they drift into their own thoughts as they eat, Madoka remembers an old conversation she had with her friends earlier in the day, and quickly chews and swallows so she can speak.

“My friends want to hang out this Friday,” Madoka tells him. “Is that okay with you?”

He looks up at her, chopsticks in his mouth, “Do you want to?”

“What do you mean? Are you asking whether I want to hang out with my…friends?” she squints at him, perplexed, though she’s not sure if that gets translated well enough through the dark to reach him. Fortunately, she thinks he caught the look. Somehow.

“Yeah.”

Unlike him, she’s having trouble making out what sort of expression he’s wearing, and chooses to think he must be giving that blank stare he always does when he’s waiting for an important sort of response from her. She used to think it was scary, or unsettling, but she’s learnt it’s just the face he makes when he’s being attentive. “I haven’t hung out with them in a long time…”

“So you want to,” he states flatly in conclusion.

She shrugs her shoulders cooly, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Hmm,” he replies, returning to his meal with less interest now. She waits for an answer from him, but the longer she waits, the more she realizes that’s it. That’s his answer. A noncommittal sound. She’d press for him to be clearer with her, but thinks he must just be contemplating the situation. So, she leaves him be.

They continue eating. 

After a while, however, he gets up from his coat-turned-mat, leaving behind his meal. When she takes a peak, she finds that he had only finished half of it, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this anyway, so she doesn’t comment on it.

“Where are you going?” she asks, munching away on the veggies. How she wishes the moon was out right now so she can get a better look of his looming figure.

“Madoka-kun, do you want to follow?” he asks without much tone and her chewing pauses for a moment.

Well, she’s about done with her meal anyway. She swallows, setting her bento down, and pats her skirt before getting up, “Okay. To where, though?”

He takes her hand, gentle and still no less colder than it always is, and wordlessly pulls her along. She doesn’t question it, thinking he must be showing her a surprise—like he always does. The longer they walked, though, the closer they got to the shore. The sand beneath their shoes slowly grow stiffer, and soon, they’ve reached the tide.

The smell of the ocean is strong, and there’s a gentle breeze in the air. Though the sky is dark, and the sea is still beautiful without the light. Distantly, Madoka thinks about sea foam, and the goddess of beauty from greek mythology, and understands why they thought this was her birthplace.

“So pretty,” she murmurs, feeling his thumb rub circles over the back of her hand. When she senses that he isn’t stopping just at the end of the tide, she stumbles, “Oh, let me take my shoes and socks off at least.”

He almost pulls at her hand impatiently, though it’s more so out of obliviousness—he hadn’t realized she stopped walking with him—than genuine impatience. Still, the tug causes his hand to slip out of hers, and now that her other hand is free, she continues to work at her loafers, pulling down her socks while she’s at it so she goes faster.

“Hey,” she says, putting her shoes neatly away from the water as she finally pulls off one sock. “Hey!”

Oh, it would’ve been nice to know his name right about now.

It takes a second, but she manages to get the other sock off, and she folds them neatly to lay over her shoes. But, just as she’s about to dip her toes into the water to get used to the no doubt freezing temperature, she realizes, as her eyes lift back up, that her friend still has not stopped walking.

“Don’t go too deep in,” Madoka tells him, the water reaching his shins, soaking into his dress pants and pouring into his shoes. She cringes at the secondhand discomfort. “Please be careful.”

He doesn’t answer her. Worried, she takes one deep breath, then skips into the water with a gentle splash, biting down the cold. It only takes a moment for her to get used to it, and by then, he has walked the water up to his knees.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asks, feet pushing through the water as she attempts to reach him. “At least take your shoes and socks off.”

“I’m okay,” he tells her in a soft voice, finally stopping. The water laps halfway up his thighs and no higher, and with the lack of a moon in the sky, the sea looks no different from a giant pool of oil. He turns to her gently. “I’m glad you came with me.”

“Of course,” Madoka replies with half a smile, the confusion creeping up to her, but her worries have subsided. He sounds relatively fine to her, as he claims. Yet, she still feels something isn’t quite right. It could be the fault of the environment, though. If it were any brighter, she thinks she’d have more fun.

He holds his hand up for her, and it takes her a moment, but she eventually grabs it, fingers sliding up his palm. Feeling his hand curl over hers, slow and careful, it catches her entirely off guard when he suddenly pulls her with more vigor than he usually would, with complete disregard for her comfort. The feeling is so unfamiliar and foreign, she briefly yells in surprise.

Suddenly they’re barrelling deeper into the water together, and it reaches their hips, their waists. The water, fortunately, slows them down, preventing them from running any faster, but he still tries anyway. He’s laughing while he does this, laughing like it’s just another ride in the amusement park, and he’s never sounded happier before. Truly. 

But she’s scared. This experience isn’t remotely close to the fun sort of thrilling, and she shows this with her loosened grip, but he still has her in his hand, and he’s still holding on, and the water is reaching their chest, and the tide licks their collarbones wetly, and he’s still laughing, and it’s getting harder to hear him with the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, pounding louder and louder, and finally Madoka finds her voice.

“Stop!” she yells, her other hand flailing in the water, splashing at him, both to panic and get his attention. “This isn’t fun anymore! Let go!”

He does, immediately, and she’s quick to stumble backwards, careful not to slip. His expression is hard to read in the dark, and eventually she slows down, putting a comfortable distance between them. She’s still close enough for him to grab, if he wanted to, but she’s far enough to also get away if he tries.

“Let’s go back.” she tells him firmly, before softening. “Please?”

Though she cannot see what he looks like right now, his voice says it all, “Why wouldn’t you come with me?”

She breathes, deep and slow, and remembers the bridge over the riverbank. Remembers what he looked like then when she found him there. Her heart ached then, it still aches now. “I want to go home. You should too.”

No answer. She stops breathing for a moment.

“We still haven’t gone to a dog cafe yet,” she says quietly, pressing folds into her sleeve. Water leaks from it. “And you haven’t found your favorite drink.”

Still no answer. She takes a breath.

“I don’t even know your name,” she continues, quieter, impossibly gentler.

She thinks she sees him shift towards her, or hesitate. She isn’t sure. But isn’t enough.

“And you still need to give me your phone number,” she tells him softly, head tilting to the side. “Why don’t you come out of the water and…key it into my phone now?”

For a minute she thinks it doesn’t work, and begins fretting for something else to say, but eventually he does start to move and heads towards her. In a breathless mutter, he goes, “You better put a cute ringtone for me.”

“The cutest one,” she nods, and then she’s taking his hand into hers and she’s the one guiding him now.

By some miracle, Madoka does not catch a cold the next day.

Predictably, she was shivering the moment they were out of the water, and she was hesitant to sit back down on his makeshift mat. She sat anyway, because he said he’d throw it away after this. She gave him her phone immediately after sitting down, and while he had fumbled with it to key his phone number in, he briefly mentioned that he had gotten her a cab.

“You’ll get sick if you go home like that,” he said without lifting his eye from her phone, his own in his other hand.

Then, when he gave her phone back to her, the car came. The seats were warm, and there were already a blanket and towel in there for her to use, which made her realize this was no ordinary taxi. Was this the boy’s private driver of some sort? Despite this, he did not join her, but he did promise he’d go home too. She called him the moment she was home to make sure of that.

The name he saved in her contacts reads ‘River Boy’, which she couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. She’d change it to something else if she knew anything more fitting, which she didn’t, and decided to leave it be.

Her parents had been reasonably worried when she showed up damp, and she had tried to cover it up by vaguely telling them that she had fallen in some water, that’s all. Her fingers brushed her chin, eyes averting their gazes, and she was relieved when they quickly let it go. Though, her papa did tell her to take a bath with some level of exasperation. She knew he meant well.

They didn’t comment on the giant plush bunny covered in sand. Madoka thought she caught a sight of her mother’s confusion, a mixture of concern, her lips parting briefly as though she had meant to say something, but it disappeared before Madoka could really catch it. 

After Madoka had finished her bath, she had surprisingly fallen asleep relatively fast. She thought her worries would keep her up a little longer, but the excitement of the day—good and bad—had lulled her to sleep in almost record speed. 

When morning came, she still felt quite tired.

She considers calling him in the morning, just to make sure he’s alright, but hesitates at the thought of being too clingy, a worrywart, and decides against it. Instead, she proceeds her day as per usual, and almost forgets why she had been so exhausted in the morning to begin with. In fact, it’s Sayaka that briefly brings her back to that moment with her casual reminder about hanging out this Friday, but Madoka manages to keep her feelings on it down so she can focus on the right things.

“Yeah,” she answers Sayaka on their walk to school, and Hitomi turns to her with a smile. Madoka leaves out the part where he had answered so ambiguously that the answer she’s given them is practically a theory.

“Awesome!” Sayaka cheers with a wide grin. “See? He was okay with it after all!”

Madoka hums in acknowledgement, but Sayaka takes it as agreement. The rest of the walk is filled with conversation about what Hitomi had done yesterday, to which Madoka hardly contributes to, much to their unawareness.

As the day goes by, and her classes pass, and she once again finds herself filing her things back into her bag in the same methodical way she had unpacked, she realizes that there’s a weird feeling in her chest still lingering from the morning. The feeling she had mistaken for tiredness has molded itself clearer for her to register, so now it has some semblance to being uneasiness and awkwardness.

She does not dread seeing her friend today, in fact she is looking forward to seeing him again, but there’s a sadness to it that she can’t tell whether it belongs to him or her. She doesn’t want him to believe his melancholy has affected her, diseased her, and neither does she want him to believe her pensive aches are his fault.

She supposes she’s afraid that when she sees him, he’ll look like he’s on the verge of saying goodbye for good.

Best to clear that paranoia by speaking with him again.

“Ah, Madoka, wait up!” Sayaka calls out when Madoka unknowingly leaves the room without her friend, blinded by her eager impatience to look over her shoulder and check if she was being faithfully followed. “Someone’s excited.”

“Ah, yeah,” Madoka flushes, embarrassed, and waits for Sayaka to catch up with her. 

“Oooh. Is it because the two of you have something fun planned for today?” Sayaka grins with a teasing wag of a finger. 

Madoka twirls a strand of her hair between her fingers, “No. Not really.”

“Hehe, that’s so cute of you,” Sayaka giggles, poking her friend gently. “You just wanna see him.”

It would be a lie if she denied that, so instead, Madoka opts to remain silent, but does give Sayaka a weary smile so it doesn’t come off as her ignoring her friend. It looks no different to her shy and bashful ones, which Sayaka mistakes it for, and their conversation does not go any deeper than that.

Along the way, Hitomi meets up with them, and the air is once again filled with chatter about the most mundane of things. Classes, what they’ll do soon, what they’re hungry for, the gossip they’ve heard, the things they’ve seen within the span of time they were away from each other. Then, just like that, they were already at the gate.

“Oh, huh,” Sayaka says, glancing about, like she’s looking for something.

“What is it?” Hitomi asks, curious.

“Nothing, it’s just… Last time Madoka came out, her boyfriend was at the gate waiting for her,” Sayaka grins. “I thought he’d do that again. I guess not.”

“We’re still not dating,” Madoka sighs defeatedly, but what Sayaka had mostly said was the truth. He is not at the gate here today, though that doesn’t come off as much of a surprise to Madoka than it did to Sayaka. After all, their normal routine had them meet at a certain tree. “He must just be at our usual spot.”

“I see,” Hitomi says, yet softens a little to express some disappointment. “I had hoped I’d get to see him this time…”

“Better luck next time, then!” Sayaka shrugs, acting mature for once, before patting Madoka’s back as some sort of send off ritual. “We’re gonna head home. You go have fun with your friend.”

Although Madoka could sense that Sayaka’s tone implied a double meaning to the word ‘friend’—still no less teasing if she had just used the word ‘boyfriend’—it’s still technically progress in some sense, so Madoka takes it with a nod and a smile. “Okay! See you two tomorrow! Bye bye!”

“Bye bye!” Sayaka waves back, heading off with Hitomi by her side.

“Goodbye!” Hitomi chimes.

In all honesty, Madoka quite missed walking to her friend like this. She likes the feeling of anticipation, letting her thoughts drift in daydreams about what they’ll be doing this time while her legs carry her to her destination. She likes almost reaching there and him noticing first, likes waving hello while his demeanor perks like a dog seeing its owner.

The weather is so pleasant today, they might do something outdoors this time too. Maybe something more calming, like the park or a public garden. They should try having tea under the sun too, actually. Oh, there’s just so much they could do today, so much to look forward to, it’s hard for her to continue stewing in her own self-made misery.

When the road grows more and more familiar, she knows she’s about to reach soon, so she stops directing her gaze upwards and aims it forward on the path ahead. She sees the tree in the distance first, because there is no boy for her eyes to fall upon.

Of course, Madoka had remained optimistic. 

There she waited, thinking that yesterday’s events must’ve just demotivated him a little, and he was sure to turn up soon eventually. Their meeting had been just as morbid, maybe a little less, but still as morbid, so there should be no reason for him to feel like avoiding her.

Besides, she had called him last night to make sure he got home. He did, he said so, he wouldn’t lie to her. There was a cheeriness to his tone then, he did sound genuinely happy to hear her over the phone, and if he didn’t want to see her today, for one reason or another, he would’ve told her.

She chose to believe that he had gotten caught up with something and would be here soon.

When an hour had passed, she tried calling the number he gave her, but it refused to connect. Dread started sinking into her stomach after that.

She knew waiting any longer wouldn’t do her any good, not when it became increasingly clear that he had skipped out on their routine on purpose—which had scary implications in itself. Especially after a day like yesterday, it was hard for her not to fear the worst.

So she began walking, running, to the only place she could think of.

It has been a long time since she last came here to the bridge over the riverbank. Sometimes her family would take walks nearby, and they’d stop to drink in the atmosphere—there has always been something so calming about relaxing by the riverbank on the grassy hill—but that hasn’t happened in a while either.

The water is unbothered, streaming as it usually does, and there is nobody on the bridge but her. In the distance, there are a couple of high school students lounging on the grass, a family playing along the pathway, and nobody else.

Her heart pounds from running and fear combined and she feels her head swim. What is she to do now? Should she have clung on harder to him yesterday? Should she have promised him something so he’d hope to meet her the next day? Will she ever see him again? Is this her fault?

She flips her phone open to try his number again, it doesn’t connect. She resists the urge to throw her phone into the river, holds it up in the air like it’s a weapon she’s about to swing it down to attack the railing.

Stupid girl, she should’ve just loved him more.

With no other solutions in sight, and no miracle waiting to embrace her, all Madoka could think of now was to cry. So she does.

When she gets home, her papa is surprised. He doesn’t turn fast enough in the kitchen to catch Madoka running past him to her room, calling out an offhanded, “Oh, you’re home early!”

She wouldn’t want to inconvenience him with her petty feelings about a boy she had only known for two weeks, so she makes it an effort to come off as normal as possible when she answers with a stiff, “Yup!”

Fortunately, he doesn’t notice a thing, and she enters her room with a deep sigh. Her eyes sort of hurt, and she’s beginning to wonder if it would’ve been worth it if she had just grabbed a quick glass of water and risked being seen by her papa. She sighs again, deciding that she’s done with coming up with ‘what if’s and drops her bag by her desk.

She falls onto her bed without a care, plushes bouncing from the impact, and she turns her head to the side to find that the bunny her friend got is now sitting on the bed with her other stuffed friends. Her papa must’ve washed it while she was away in school today.

She reaches forward and gives it a hug, squeezing her body around it. It doesn’t do much, but she does feel slightly better.

Perhaps it’s best she sticks to being positive. She is simply being way too overdramatic. After all, there’s no actual proof that he… 

If she just waits till Monday, giving him ample amount of time to collect himself and heal, things will go back to the way they should be. They’ll pretend today never happened, and this will become nothing more than just a bad memory.

She relaxes, pressing her face closer against the toy, and inhales fabric softener. 

“You seem distracted,” Hitomi comments, which leads Madoka to lift her eyes from her tall glass of milk tea. The boba she had ordered as an extra topping clumps together at the bottom, under and between ice.

They’re sitting at a table with four chairs, and they’ve stacked all their bags on the chair next to Hitomi. The three of them had gotten the same drink, essentially. Hitomi has hers hot, Sayaka has hers iced without toppings. Out of the three of them, Madoka is sure hers is the sweetest. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Madoka laughs lightly, tucking the straw between her lips absentmindedly. 

“Did something happen?” Sayaka asks, picking up what Hitomi is putting on the table—metaphor. “Is this about that boy?”

Well, that guess had been hardly educated. It’s an obvious conclusion to draw. Madoka withholds a sigh, knowing she’s already exhausted her lungs with them yesterday. “I think I’m overreacting, so it’ll be fine.”

“Tell us about it,” Hitomi smiles, clinking her spoon against the side of her cup. “We’d love to hear you out.”

Madoka hesitates, almost squirming in her seat, “I…”

“Yeah, Madoka!” Sayaka adds with a beam. “No judgement here, promise. We’re going serious mode for you.”

It’s not that Madoka has a general distrust towards her friends about matters like these. Previously she worried over invisible problems like not being taken seriously, or not being trusted for her judgement. In little ways, she still worries over that. But, as they’re eagerly leaning in to listen, she begins to realize—when push comes to shove—her friends are capable of being understanding towards her, without having to demean her in any way—even if the intent had been sincere.

“You mean just you,” Hitomi laughs gently in response to what Sayaka had said. “I’m always in serious mode.”

“That’s a lie,” Sayaka huffs, unimpressed with Hitomi’s attempt at being the coolest between the three of them.

Madoka blurts out a giggle, amused by her friends’ reassurance, and eventually relaxes enough to confess her troubles, “He didn’t show up yesterday.”

“You got stood up?!” Sayaka gasps, to which Hitomi shoots her a look. “I mean that entirely in a platonic context, by the way!”

“Did you call him?” Hitomi softens in sympathy.

“Many times,” Madoka nods. “I’m worried he might have…” ah, the truth would be a bit much to say, actually, “...gotten bored of me.”

“No way!” Sayaka exclaims. “I’m sure he totally didn’t.” Then she turns to Hitomi with a knowing sort of look, “I’ve seen the guy, y’know. Like seen seen. So, I can totally tell that he likes hanging with Madoka. Because who wouldn’t? ” 

“Aw,” Madoka flusters, looking away. 

“He must’ve fallen sick,” Hitomi frowns, making her attempt at bettering the situation for the girl. “When I am bedridden, I can’t even pick up the phone either.”

Madoka brightens up a little, liking that theory much better. It does make sense. After all, she hadn’t checked how he got home. For all she knows, he might’ve walked, wet clothes drying against his skin in cold air, giving way for illnesses to fall upon him. Yes. That makes perfect sense!

“See? Things will be fine,” Sayaka beams, matching Madoka’s growing smile. “You have nothing to worry about!”

Feeling at peace, Madoka brings her drink to her lips, sipping through her straw. Nothing to worry about indeed.

The weekend passes by in a blink, filled with the same old happenings, same old pass times. With her mood lifted from Friday, she hardly stops smiling and enjoying herself, as she normally would have on any other weekend. Her family barely noticed there had been anything amiss to begin with when they spent time together, being so used to her chipper self. 

Well, even if they had noticed anything, they didn’t comment on it. Madoka thinks she prefers it that way.

By the time Monday comes, Madoka almost forgets what she had been so afraid of to begin with. It’s only when school is about to end, and it’s about time she meets up with him at their usual spot, does the creeping sense of dread come crawling back up her spine like a bug. 

Perhaps she’s only worried for the worst, now that this will be how she’ll know the reality of her situation. If he’s missing once more when she gets there, and he still refuses to pick up the phone, she may have to accept that—at the very least—he doesn’t want them to remain friends anymore.

Which is something she’ll just have to bite down and accept.

Sayaka notices her nervousness as they’re leaving the building, and reassures that Madoka will surely see him at their spot again, and she has nothing to worry about, and if he dares not show up, she’ll just have to hunt him down for Madoka’s sake. The girl had appreciated her friend’s sentiment, but emphasized that she’s willing to take the loss if it comes.

“You can’t give up so easily,” Sayaka wails on her behalf, but Madoka doesn’t think of it as giving up at all. They’re reaching the gate now, and soon they’ll part. She’d come with Madoka if the girl let her, but she knows Madoka wouldn’t agree to it even if she suggested it first.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Madoka bounces with each step she takes, still no less anxious than she was before, but also unwilling to make it seem like Sayaka’s comforting had done nothing for her.

“See ya,” Sayaka bids her goodbye, then turns to leave. She gives one last look towards Madoka over her shoulder, but the girl had already started jogging off.

With her eyes aimed forward, Madoka wastes no time getting to the tree they always meet at, and as it peaked over the horizon and drew nearer, she smiles, wide and open-mouthed. He’s there! He’s actually there!

Standing in a coat that’s most likely new, but no different in design than his usual one, the boy is leaning against the tree, idling on his phone with one hand. He’s relaxed, poised, like he never went away to begin with, and when he senses she is coming, he turns as he normally would, and smiles just as wide.

Then she sees his right arm in a cast, and her look sort of falls. It does not fly over his head, and in turn his eye shifts away, almost ashamed of himself. He doesn’t run towards her this time, but she closes the distance between them pretty fast for it to matter. Now she’s standing in front of him, and she’s just rediscovered how much she’s missed him these last four days.

Not knowing how to react—because all evidence seems to suggest that his arm was no accident, but a by-product of a sound decision—Madoka awkwardly smiles, “Can I decorate it?”

There’s a strained look on his face now, but he smiles back anyway, “Of course.”

They sit somewhere to do that.

The park is almost empty today, surprisingly. There are so little people that Madoka feels it’s just the two of them in the world right now. They happened to find an empty park bench and table in a nice and quiet corner, with bushes surrounding the sheltered seat, and trees that occasionally rustled. If they had an actual mat, they could’ve sat under the sun farther up on the grass patch, across the stone pathway that led them here.

Madoka has all sorts of stationary on her. She tends to collect for the fun of it, and it makes her school planner a little more expressive. For teachers who are more laid back, she’d decorate her homework when she has the time, and her splashes of pink go so well with their red.

She’s carefully outlining flowers onto his cast, tracing it over and over so the ink is more visible. It’s all in pink, of course, because she has an abundance of that. She’ll remember to use a bit of blue later. They don’t speak for the entirety of it, mostly because she’s so concentrated, and he’s so intrigued by her.

When she finishes covering a good chunk of his cast, she straightens back up to ease the tension on her spine, and she smiles, wiping bits of sweat off her forehead. Perhaps she’ll use blue for the stalks later.

“Pretty?” she asks him, just for the fun of it.

“Yeah,” he says, lingering his gaze upon it. 

A bird chirps in the background, and in the corner of Madoka’s eye, she sees a butterfly. It really is a nice day out today.

“Sorry,” he blurts, out of the blue, and her eyes focus back on him. “For disappearing.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she replies sincerely. “I’m happy to see you again.”

He crosses one knee over the other, he doesn’t meet her eyes, “I wasn’t supposed to be here today.”

She holds her breath.

“But,” he looks at her, the corner of his eye crinkling. “I’m happy to have shown up.”

Air escapes through her nose, she softens, and then she digs through her pencil case for her blue thin marker, “I missed you, a lot.”

“Me too,” he confesses, watching her return back to his cast. “But I wish you were more mad at me. Or upset.”

“Why?” she asks, snaking blue stalks across his cast. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I just think you must find me repulsive.”

Her eyes flick up and she lifts her marker up so it doesn’t blot, “I don’t.”

“I feel like…that’s worse,” he says slowly. “I think you should hate me. For the things I’ve done.”

“I can’t,” she admits, capping her marker for a moment. “Because, truthfully, you really are a dear friend to me.”

His eye widens, dilating almost, his pupil no glossier than a marble, “This won’t be the last time I hurt you.”

She gives him a half-smile, “I know.”

“You’re okay with that?” he asks.

“Not really,” she drags her feet under the bench seat, feels it stutter against the friction. No good for her loafers, but she doesn’t really care about that right now. “But, if it’s you, it’ll be okay.”

He really looks like he’s at a loss for words now—which is rare—and she takes this chance to continue her artwork on his cast. For a little while, it feels comfortable. The silence, the faint smell of alcohol—from her marker—and the sound of her dragging the tip across the cast, inking its cloth.

“Dazai,” he says at last, after what feels like forever, but also a short while at the same time. “Dazai Osamu.”

“You have a nice name,” she looks up at him again, brushing her hand across his healing arm. “Thanks for telling me.”

“You could’ve just called me anything you wanted,” he kicks the tip of his shoe against hers lightly, with the playfulness of a kitten pawing at a string of yarn.

“I prefer using your name,” she grins, finishing up her art. “So, is there anything else you wanted to do, Osamu-kun?”

He hums in thought, “I want to go to the arcade, and drink iced tea. And look at the clouds when the sun is setting.”

“Okay!”

Lately, Dazai Osamu has been hanging out with a girl.

For the past month they’ve been following the same routine. Most times, at least. He’d be waiting under a tree, down the road from Mitakihara Middle School, right as their school dismissal bell rings. She’ll find him idling on his phone, his coat over his shoulders if he bothers to bring it, his other hand in his pocket with no where else to rest it.

Then, before she knows he’s noticed her arriving, he’ll greet her with a wide smile, hand waving in the air up high. She’ll brighten like a star, her pace quickening just slightly. They’ll meet each other halfway so they can head off and do whatever they’ve got planned for the day.

Her pink pigtails would bounce with her steps, smooth and graceful—much like her entire demeanor, which is perfect in almost every way. He thinks he’s never seen even her uniform in anything other than pristine condition, the parts of her sleeves at her shoulders perfectly puffed, her skirt ironed with not a single crinkle in sight, her kneesocks never a shade duller from white.

He’s always wondered what a person like her saw in him to stay friends even despite what he’s shown himself to be, but now he thinks that doesn’t matter so much anymore. All he has to worry about is the day ahead of them, what pastries they’ll eat, and what sort of fun they should have.

He can only really hope that they stay friends forever.