Chapter Text
Hana met Hirose Aiki during a school committee meeting.
They're both there as class representatives for the cultural festival, and they've been assigned to take stacks of paperwork and forms to the teachers together by the president.
Hana was a little apprehensive—she had never interacted with Hirose before, and she was worried about him trying to flirt or make a pass at her, but all Hirose did was chat about the cultural festival, or the cafés they've been to and liked, or the band they both happened to be into.
It was nice.
Hirose was nice.
He was warm, gentle and polite, and he had similar interests to hers. It was fun, talking to Hirose, and he made her feel heard and comfortable. After the meeting, Hana wanted to speak with him more—wanted to spend more time around him—wanted to get to know him better.
So Hana asked Hirose out on Valentine's Day.
And Hirose accepted.
Hana had been ecstatic, those first few days. Hirose was everything she expected him to be as a boyfriend—kind, courteous, and fun to talk to.
In those first few days, Hana thought she had chosen right.
***
It starts small.
Hana goes to meet Hirose as they've agreed in front of school, and she finds Hirose outside the main entrance as she expected—only there's a look on his face that she's never seen before.
Hirose is looking forward at the courtyard, his eyes faraway, a slight frown tugging on his lips.
He seems preoccupied. Bothered.
"Aiki-kun," Hana calls once she gets closer, and Hirose smiles upon noticing her, his face going all nice and warm.
"Sakamoto," Hirose says. It brings her down a bit, the use of her surname, but Hana understands that Hirose is flustered and embarrassed.
It's a little cute, admittedly, his uncharacteristic shyness, so Hana can wait.
"Are you ready to go?" Hirose asks.
Hana nods, and Hirose holds out his hand, as easy as anything. Hana takes his hand in hers, and they're off.
"How was class?" Hirose asks.
So Hana talks—about her assignment, about her friends, about how she was hoping to drop by a stationery store to pick up a new notebook after she spilled hot chocolate over her old one. Hirose tries to listen, humming here or there, but Hana notices that he's distracted, his answers short and vague—noncommittal.
"Aiki-kun," Hana ventures, when she's run out of things to say, and the silence reveals itself to be a fraught, fragile, stifling thing. "Are you feeling okay?"
Hirose smiles. It fits strangely around his features. Rigid, Hana realises.
"Yeah, I'm okay," Hirose says. "You said you needed to buy a new notebook, right? I know just the place. I go there all the time."
Hana smiles, but her heart's not in it. "Okay," she says over the disappointment stinging her chest, and Hirose doesn't notice anything.
They're in a stationery store, browsing their selection of notebooks, when Hirose's eyes suddenly light up, catching sight of something. He darts over to crouch before a display of keychains, and Hana follows him, curious about what got him so excited.
When she gets there, she sees Hirose cradling an octopus keychain, a small but no less incandescent smile on his face.
"Do you like octopuses?" Hana asks.
Hirose looks at her, and his face is so bright, so warm.
"Yeah," Hirose says, as radiant as the sun. His eyes go distant, like he's remembering back to a fond memory. "I do."
It lasts only for a moment before Hirose is standing back up, and his attention is fully back on her.
Hirose's low mood disappears, but Hana doesn't stop thinking about the tinge of sadness that haunted the warmth of his face—the easy way he shut her out—how Hirose still refuses to call her by her first name, like he's uncomfortable with the intimacy of it.
I'm being stupid, Hana tells herself as she waves Hirose goodbye. We've only known each other for a few days. Of course there are things he's not comfortable with telling me about.
Still, Hana feels uneasy.
It pulses like a low ache in her gut.
***
Hana learns new things about Hirose, like how he has an older sister who tends to be fussy, or how he dislikes eating cow or pig entrails, or how he really likes octopuses—he even has a pink octopus-themed pacer in his pencil case!
She goes to visit Hirose in his classroom and tells him they should visit that new cafe they were talking about on their walk home today, and feels a tiny pang when he says, "Sure, but you could've just sent me a LINE message."
But I wanted to see you, Hana thinks, and she says as much, but then Takeuchi says, "Hey, lovebirds!" And Hirose flushes and bristles like a cat, and Hana feels less like a girlfriend, and more like an older sister who embarrassed her kid brother.
She tries to not linger on how all she wanted to hear from Hirose was that he also wanted to see her, too.
***
Hana bumps into someone as she hurries past the getabako, running late to her meeting with Hirose.
She turns around, an apology ready on her lips, when she sees a familiar shape fall with a clack on the floor.
"Sorry," Hana remembers to say as she goes to pick the fallen object up.
Clasped in her hand, there's no denying it:
It's the pacer Hirose owns, just in a different colour.
It's just like the pacer Hirose owns, the resemblance so striking it couldn't have been anything but part of a matching set.
Hana straightens up, and it occurs to her that the pacer belongs to someone—that it is owned by the person she just bumped into.
She lifts her gaze, and she sees a boy with pale skin and dark hair, his eyes averted to the side, curled smaller like if he tries hard enough she won't see him.
Hana has been to Hirose's classroom and met some of his friends, but she doesn't recognise this person.
The boy turns to face her, a question in his eyes, and Hana smiles.
"This is cute," she says, raising the pacer up.
Slowly, carefully, like he's afraid she'll hurt him, the boy reaches out and takes the pacer.
"T-Thanks," he says.
"Hey," Hana hears from behind her. She looks back to see Hirose in the mouth of the entryway.
At the sight of Hirose, Hana rushes over.
"Did you wait long?" Hana asks.
Hirose shakes his head. "Nah."
He looks away at the boy near the getabako, and a tiny smile adorns his mouth, mute and reflexive and more genuine for it.
"Later, Nakamura," Hirose says.
Hirose doesn't wait for a reply, setting off, grasping her hand like it's second nature, except for the ways it's not.
"Is he your friend?" Hana asks.
"Yeah," Hirose says, that tiny smile still on his face.
"You have an octopus pen, too," Hana continues.
Hirose huffs out an exhale that resembles a laugh. "Yeah, my friend gave it to me."
But then, his smile curdles—grows dimmer.
Hana thinks of that afternoon when they went to the stationery store, the octopus keychain that brought back the radiance in Hirose's eyes, and she thinks the sadness clinging to him that day was maybe longing—maybe wistfulness.
Hana has never been afraid of letting go.
***
"I want to break up with you," Hana says.
Hirose stares at her, his eyes wide, thrown off.
Eventually, he seems to register her words, and even as his face crumples, relief settles over his body, his spine no longer so stiff, like a weight has been taken off of him.
"Oh," he says. "Sorry, this came out of nowhere. Did I do something wrong?"
But before Hana can answer, Hirose is looking away. Hana follows his gaze, and it's the boy from the main entryway, appearing like he's been jumpscared by a ghastly spectre.
Hana turns back to Hirose.
"You're not what I expected," Hana says. "Being with you is not as fun as I thought." Hirose peers over her shoulder, mouth curving up before he seems to remember that she's talking—that he's in the middle of being dumped—and he jerks his eyes back to her, his mouth a thin line. Hana knows he was looking at the boy—at Nakamura—and venom burns in her chest, her lungs, her throat. It feels so unfair. "You're not as interesting as I thought. Being with you is boring."
Hirose only nods, almost unfazed, except for the shadow of resignation in his eyes—like she's merely confirming something he already knows.
And then Hirose smiles, kind and warm.
"Thank you for being honest with me," Hirose says. "I had fun hanging out with you. I'm sorry you didn't feel the same way. Take care, okay?"
"Okay," Hana says, and Hirose is gone, running off.
Only after Hirose disappears around the corner does she let herself cry.
Being with you is not as fun as I thought, Hana had said, and it's true—just not for the reasons she gave.
Dating Hirose isn't fun—not at all.
It's painful to love someone who'd rather be somewhere else than with you.
It's painful to love someone who misses someone else while you're right there next to him.
And Hana has never been afraid of letting go.
(She already knows where Hirose went—to who.)