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February 14th was a date that struck fear in the hearts of many, and Fuchi was no exception. As Valentine’s Day drew near, Japan was infested by the plague of chocolate and romance and wonderful, young, budding love! The disease spread everywhere, from the streets and stores of the physical world, to even Fuchi’s one refuge in social media. No matter where you looked, there were advertisements depicting people blushing and giggling, a hand-written card and a heart-shaped box of chocolates in hand, ready to confess their love and live happily ever after.
“Happily ever after” was a phrase that didn’t belong in Fuchi’s vocabulary. He was going to be dead sooner rather than later, and there wasn’t going to be a ring on his finger when they found him. Even so much as glancing at any Valentine-related media made him physically recoil. It left behind a bitter taste in his mouth that not even the sweetest chocolate could get rid of. Chocolate and him didn’t go together, anyway—it was cute, sweet, and loved by all, the polar opposite of him, a depressed loser with a grotesquely scarred face and a track (criminal) record that would make the whole world hate him (could anyone forget about Shibuya?).
Fuchi was, had been, and always would be hopelessly single. Since his very birth, not a single person had ever confessed their love to him. The only letters he got were the hateful messages that had been shoved into his mail slot. For him, kisses were the Hershey’s kisses he morosely nibbled on, imaging someone had given it to him. Anything intimate was exclusively between him and himself, and fantasies were all he was getting—even an idiot would know that if they took a single look at his scarred face and body.
Wisely, Fuchi had learned to expect nothing. Even having the slimmest hope led to the biggest disappointment. To think he was worthy of love was, to name just a few of countless adjectives, a naive, far-fetched, and outright impossible prospect.
On the flipside, there were people like Mahiru, the spitting image of love. He might as well be the figurehead of Valentine’s Day. Romance came naturally to him, his charisma was off the charts, and he attracted love like bugs to a venus fly trap. He would be getting fancy chocolates from every girl he knew, so much that he’d practically be drowning in it. Then he would go “hey Sunao, did you get any chocolates?” and Fuchi would force a smile and say “nope, not one,” and Mahiru would respond “just have some of mine, then,” except he would purposefully not add “loser” because he pitied Fuchi just that much, because oh, poor Fuchi, so sad and loveless and pathetic, thank God I’m not like him. And Fuchi would eat the chocolates out of expectation, then vomit them all out, because love was a thing that didn’t belong to him.
It was okay, though. He was used to it. That’s just how the rest of his life would be. Valentine’s Day just wasn’t for him.
Then Tobi came along.
Love at first sight was something Fuchi had always laughed at. It was a concept so absurd it only belonged in stupid, mushy romance movies. The world slows down, the background blurs, and the protagonist’s eyes widen as he stares at the face of a jaw-droppingly, astonishingly, incomprehensibly beautiful girl. Suddenly, he knows that they are destined to be together, that a red string of fate connects their pinkies, that their love is written in the stars. Boom! Just like that, they’re soulmates.
How stupid, and not to mention, impossible. Fuchi knew fiction better than he knew reality—for nearly his whole life, that was all he could see—and he was certain that “love at first sight” was nothing but a stupid trope. Then the balloons that replaced everyone’s heads vanished, and suddenly, he was seeing faces. More specifically, he was seeing Tobi’s face. That day in the detention center, when he caught his first glimpse of it, he was speechless.
Tobi’s face was captivating in a way that went past physical attraction. Fuchi could feel an indescribable pull in the air, invisible yet impossibly strong. He was frozen still as he processed the sight before him. Not a single muscle in his body moved—he simply stared.
Suddenly, his latent romantic feelings came to life. They emerged like seeds sprouting up from the earth, blossoming into dreamy pink flowers.
Holy shit, Fuchi realized, he’s hot. Then he thought wow, Tobi came all this way for me? and he remembered that Tobi was actually the nicest person in his whole life, and that was even hotter.
Crush. Infatuation. Limerence. If there was any natural progression through those phases, Fuchi had skipped it all and gone right to the end. Sure, he had experienced crushes before, but they were the “I know she’s never going to love me, but it just feels nice to fantasize about sometimes” type. The “I know she doesn’t know who I am, but that’s okay” type. Actually, the “not super intense” and “she” type. Fuchi’s crush was neither of these—not only did it consume his entire life, but it was also the first one on a boy.
Fuchi didn’t know how to feel about that, but he did know he felt like a stupid teenager when his heart started racing like it was running for its life, or his cheeks flushed red when he so much as existed within a five-foot radius of Tobi, or when he could barely form a single word without stammering. He was head over heels, literally—he tripped because instead of looking at the ground, he was looking at Tobi’s face. All of the sudden, sleep was something he was looking forward to, because it meant he and Tobi would be kissing in the most vivid dream of his life. Instead of scrolling through social media as he usually did, he was scrutinizing “signs your best friend has a crush on you” websites.
Most embarrassing of all, Tobi had attributed his behavior to him being hit by a truck.
“Are you sure nothing else happened after you got hit?” Tobi had asked once, cool and composed. “Anything besides the balloons disappearing?”
Fuchi was the very opposite of him, face hot and voice stuttering. “No, nothing!” he said with too much force.
Tobi shrugged. “Okay. You just seem different.”
Fuchi chuckled nervously. “I do?”
Tobi casually propped his head up on a hand, glancing off to the side. “Is it because Valentine’s Day is coming up?”
Fuchi felt like he had been caught red-handed—more like red-faced, hearing Tobi say that. His jaw dropped to the floor. “What?” he squeaked.
“You know,” Tobi said smoothly. “Is there a girl you’re hoping to get chocolate from?”
“No! I mean, not really, I guess…”
Tobi’s eyes slid to his, boring a hole into his face. “Nobody?”
Fuchi was momentarily stunned. “Um?”
Tobi stared him dead in the eye. “There’s nobody you have in mind?”
“N-No…?” Fuchi stammered.
“Alright. I was just wondering.” Tobi glanced away. Faint pink gathered on his face like dust. “It’s nothing,” he snapped. “Forget about it.”
Was that a blush? Fuchi blinked once, twice, then assumed he was seeing things. “O-Okay,” he mumbled.
Tobi wasn’t the first one to say something, either. Mahiru, the local expert in romance, also happened to live with him—in other words, he was there to experience all of Fuchi’s embarrassing behavior.
One day, Fuchi had his head in the clouds, daydreaming of cotton candy and unicorns and rainbows, or really, that’s how he felt when he thought about Tobi—like he was floating in a fantastical candyland.
“So, Valentine’s Day is coming up, eh?” Mahiru said, elbowing Fuchi in the side.
Fuchi was dragged back to reality. “What? Oh, yeah. It is.”
“Huh. Were you daydreaming about someone? Got any girls in mind?”
“Not really,” Fuchi stuttered, flushing.
Mahiru quirked an eyebrow at him. “It’s a yes or no question.”
“No,” Fuchi settled on saying, because that was technically the truth.
“No?” Mahiru echoed. “Absolutely no one at all?”
The shade of red on Fuchi’s face deepened. “Nope. Nobody.”
“Hmm…” Mahiru placed a chin on his finger. “You seem like you’re thinking about a certain someone. Someone that we both know.”
Fuchi’s shocked gasp was an admission of guilt.
“Aha!” Mahiru exclaimed. “It is him!”
“No!” Fuchi put on a less-than-convincing smile. “It’s not. I swear it’s not!”
“You’re blushing,” Mahiru sing-songed.
“Why would it be him?”
Mahiru counted each point on his fingers. “You’ve been talking about him way too much, whenever I bring his name up you start blushing, and just look at you now! It’s not rocket science.”
Fuchi was out of arguments. “It’s not him,” he said feebly.
Mahiru shrugged, smirking. “Sure, sure…”
It was official. This was the worst thing that had happened to Fuchi. His crush was a parasite that had wormed its way into his heart and burrowed itself in place. Life was cruel to curse him with unrequited love. Hadn’t he suffered enough?
All he could do was try his best to keep his one-sided feelings under control. Unfortunately, it was hard to do that during this time of year. How could he not think romantically when romance was being shoved into his face at every second of the day? He was trying to escape from Valentine’s Day, but at this rate, it was going to catch him, beat him to a pulp, then spit on his dead body when he inevitably got rejected by Tobi.
Any confession would go like this. He would declare “Tobi, I’m in love with you!” and then Tobi would say “sorry, I don’t feel that way,” and then Fuchi would start crying and Tobi would be nice and say “but you can be my friend” even though Fuchi didn’t deserve it. Then, their friendship would gradually crumble apart into dust and Mahiru would laugh at him behind his back because Mahiru wouldn’t have any issues with romance, only Fuchi. Stupid, worthless, idiotic Fuchi.
But what if the confession went like “I love you” and then Tobi gasped and said “oh my God, I love you too, so so so much,” and then leapt forward and kissed the life out of Fuchi, and then his hands went to Fuchi’s stomach and then started trailing lower and lower and—
No. Tobi didn’t like him. That wasn’t going to happen, ever.
It could, whispered a tiny voice in his head.
It was impossible. Probably.
There’s a chance.
A small one. Then again, a chance was still a chance…
What if?
No. Never. Impossible. What was he thinking?
One day, a week before Valentine’s Day, they were hanging out together as they usually did. Ryuuko had insisted they go to the park. When they arrived, it was a ghost town. Every playground set was empty like an uninhabited house.
“Flowers! Look!” Ryuuko exclaimed, but before she could get their reaction, she was already bounding away.
Fuchi and Tobi wandered towards the swingset, sitting down side-by-side.
“Do you like those?” Tobi said conversationally. “Flowers, I mean. Like what Ryuuko was saying.”
Flowers? Wasn’t that kind of—no, forget about it. “Yeah,” Fuchi stammered. “I do.”
“…Do you have a favorite?”
“Sunflowers.”
Tobi hummed. “Cool.”
There was a lull in the conversation. It didn’t last long—suddenly, Tobi launched off the swingset. “Don’t eat that!” he yelled, rushing off towards Ryuuko’s direction.
“But you said I can eat flowers!” Ryuuko whined from somewhere off in the distance. “They’re e-di-ble!”
“Some are edible. Not all.”
“But I wanna eat them!”
“You can’t.”
“No! I wanna!”
The two bickered, but Fuchi had lost his attention long ago. He fought tooth and nail with his rowdy thoughts. Flowers were perfectly normal to discuss, and the fact that Valentine’s Day was approaching was mere coincidence.
The terrible date of February 14th drew ever closer.
A cold gale blew past them. Fuchi’s sigh was lost in the wind—he adjusted his hair, pressing it back down with his hands.
Before he could react, Tobi tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “You missed one,” he said, then let go like nothing had even happened.
Fuchi was left stupefied and beet-red. When had Tobi ever done something like that before…? Never, which meant that (he loved Fuchi) he was feeling especially helpful today.
In another case, they were turning into a narrow side street. A group of people approached from one side. If they walked side-by-side like this, they would be in the way.
“This way,” Tobi said, and then his hand slipped into the small of Fuchi’s back, guiding him off to the side.
Fuchi almost tripped from sheer surprise. The contact lasted a few seconds, but it left him questioning their entire relationship—sorry, friendship—for a few hours.
The most egregious example was when they held hands, if it could even be called that. There was a thick crowd gathered near the edge of a crosswalk that they had to pass through.
“Here,” Tobi had said, then grabbed both him and Ryuuko. Together, they delved into the crowd, hand-in-hand—if hand-in-hand meant that Tobi’s fingers wrapped lightly around his wrist, anyway.
Fuchi’s cheeks were as hot as coals. Wasn’t holding hands a thing couples did? No—platonic hand-holding existed, and they had done that before, so Tobi was just being extra extra helpful.
From there, the examples went on endlessly. A rogue hand brushing against another one; a bump against each other while walking; a stray touch here and there. Fuchi hated the thrill that went through his body each time. The universe was dangling a fruit before his eyes, tempting him with what could have been, but was forever out of reach.
The day before Valentine’s Day was easily the worst incident of them all. They were walking together. The time, place, or destination was irrelevant—all that mattered was that they were alone.
Fuchi was rambling endlessly, as he usually did. “I’ve been getting Valentine’s Day ads lately,” he sighed. “They’re annoying because every depiction of love is played up and exaggerated for the cameras solely for the purpose of marketing so the companies can sell as much chocolate as possible, but in reality it’s fake and fabricated and soulless…”
“That’s too depressing,” Tobi said.
“That’s how I feel around Valentine’s Day.” Fuchi smiled bitterly. “I don’t like seeing the chocolates. I don’t really like eating them, either.”
“Have you ever gotten chocolate before?”
Fuchi scoffed. “Look at me and guess.”
Tobi gave him a side eye.
“Sorry,” Fuchi sighed. “No. Never.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t gotten any either.”
Fuchi’s eyes widened. “That’s surprising.”
Tobi frowned. “Is it?”
Fuchi’s eyes traced over Tobi’s features. “Like, you’re super”—hot, he almost blurted—“nice-looking…?”
Pink settled over Tobi’s cheeks. “Not really,” he muttered.
Fuchi realized his mistake with a mortified gasp. “I mean, you’re not hard on the eyes or anything, you know?” he said hurriedly, scraping together an appropriate explanation. “Like, girls would enjoy looking at you.”
Tobi’s face twisted into a scowl. “I don’t think so.”
“If I saw you on the street, I’d probably assume you have a girlfriend. Or maybe—”
“You can stop talking,” Tobi huffed.
“Sorry,” Fuchi said, cheeks burning.
A new voice cut in, a shrill screech from Tobi’s back. “You two are crackin’ me up,” Baku guffawed.
“Quiet,” Tobi hissed under his breath.
“Ha! You keep sayin’ that! Y’know, it ain’t like I’m gonna tell him about your little secret for tomorrow.”
“Shut up,” Tobi snapped, red flooding his cheeks.
“Jeez, jeez, fine!” Baku cackled. His tongue lolled out and slapped Tobi playfully, then retreated back into his mouth.
Tobi stormed down the sidewalk, fists swinging back and forth. When he realized there was no longer a person at his side, he halted, whirling around.
Fuchi stood there, slack-jawed. The words looped endlessly inside his head. Secret for tomorrow. Secret for tomorrow. Secret for tomorrow. Meanwhile, a second alarm blared. He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like me.
“Sorry,” Tobi said, retreating back to him. Pink still clung to his cheeks. “Actually, I was going to ask you something…”
“W-What?” Fuchi squeaked.
Tobi crossed his arms. “Are you free tomorrow? I was thinking of going to the beach together. Just you and me.” He averted his eyes, grumbling. “You know. Just to talk, or whatever…”
Fuchi did his best not to let his foolish hope seep into his voice. “Sure,” he stammered. “That sounds nice.” And very much not date-like in the slightest.
“Tomorrow afternoon works for you?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll walk you back to your place.”
They set off together. Fuchi’s mind was in a state of pandemonium. Two sides clashed together—the little voice screaming he likes you and the logical voice yelling back no, he doesn’t. A smile and a frown fought to take control of his face. When they reached the apartment, the second—correct—side had won.
“See you,” Tobi said, eyes lingering on his face.
“See you,” Fuchi responded, looking at Tobi for a beat too long.
The world blurred around them as they stared into each other’s eyes.
“Bye!” Fuchi exclaimed, spinning around before it could get any worse. He hurried away, not daring to look back.
When he got to the apartment, Mahiru was sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand. He popped his head up when he heard the door open. “Hey, Sunao!” he called out.
Fuchi let out a distressed groan. “Hello…”
Mahiru’s eyes squinted suspiciously. “Don’t tell me. Did something happen between you and Tobi?”
“No,” Fuchi said, but he was stuttering.
Mahiru grinned. “Nothing romantic?”
Fuchi clasped both hands over his mouth, gasping. “What? No!”
“Yeah, right. Suuure,” Mahiru drawled. “Anyways, spill it.”
Fuchi sighed. “I’m going to the beach tomorrow with Tobi. That’s all.”
Mahiru’s eyebrows shot up faster than a bullet. “Oh. My. God. Actually?”
“Yeah?”
“Is it just the two of you? Nobody else?”
“Uh-huh?”
“And it’s tomorrow specifically?”
“Yes?”
Mahiru gasped. “That’s a date, Sunao. He’s taking you out on a date.”
“No, he isn’t,” Fuchi complained, pouting.
Mahiru burst into laughter. “Holy shit, I can’t believe he’s actually doing that,” he wheezed. “No way!”
“It’s not a date!”
Mahiru wiped the tears out of his eyes. “Yeah, and pigs fly, and water is red, and Tobi totally doesn’t like you or anything.”
“He doesn’t,” Fuchi said stubbornly. “He can’t.”
Mahiru puffed his chest out, pointing at himself. “Look, I’m an expert at this kind of stuff. I know what I’m talking about.”
Red crept into Fuchi’s cheeks. “Are you sure?”
“Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s. Day” Mahiru slapped the side of the couch for emphasis. “You know, the day where people are supposed to confess their undying love for each other? And Tobi is asking you to go somewhere with him, alone?” He made a swooping hand gesture. “Think about it.”
“I don’t know,” Fuchi mumbled. “I think he just wants to do something nice for me.”
“On Valentine’s Day specifically? Not yesterday, or today, or the day after? Valentine’s Day?”
“It could be a coincidence…”
“Hell no, it’s not!” Mahiru made air quotes with his hands. “Nobody ‘accidentally’ invites someone alone to meet together on Valentine’s.”
Fuchi dragged his hands over his face, giving Mahiru another teenager-like groan.
“Let’s talk about dates. I’ll teach you!” Mahiru exclaimed, pulling at the hem of his hoodie like he was adjusting a tie. He cleared his throat. “First, you should definitely get him chocolates.”
Fuchi frowned. “No way…”
Mahiru raised a finger. “Next! You have to dress up in something nice. Semi-casual. Not too formal, but not like that hoodie. Don’t worry, I’ll help pick out an outfit for you.”
“But it’s not like that,” Fuchi mumbled.
Mahiru grinned. “Then—this is the most important part—think about how you’re going to confess to him.”
Fuchi gaped at Mahiru. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.” Mahiru placed a hand over his heart. “Confidence, Sunao.”
“But he can’t like me that much,” Fuchi said, sinking deeper into the pit of despair. “It won’t go well, and then we won’t be friends anymore, and he’ll never talk to me, and then I’ll never see him again in my life…”
Mahiru waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. Tobi’s nice to you, so even if it doesn’t work out, it’s not like he’s going to hate you.”
Fuchi sighed deeply. “I don’t know…”
“Think of all the couple things you can do!” Mahiru exclaimed. “Holding hands, kissing, saying mushy gushy things to each other…” He smirked. “And a lot more than that, but that usually comes later.”
Fuchi went as red as a tomato. “M-Mahiru!”
Mahiru wiggled his eyebrows. “Sounds fun, right?”
“Maybe,” Fuchi said, as opposed to what was on his mind, which was “definitely.”
Mahiru nodded approvingly. “Let’s do it!” he said, leaping to his feet. “I’ll help you.”
“I don’t know,” Fuchi muttered, staring at the ground. “I guess…”
Mahiru slapped him on the back. “You’ve got this, Sunao!”
Fuchi was forced to make preparations. He found the only formal outfit he had, a collared yellow shirt that was left over from his former retail job (Mahiru’s clothes were too small on him). He purchased a fancy-looking bag of dark chocolates. He rehearsed what he would say in his head, theoretically speaking—confessing would be a terrible idea.
Of course, he also pondered endlessly about the “secret” that Baku had mentioned, which was more likely to be a declaration of hatred than one of love. Tobi had probably picked up on his awkward crush and finally decided to ditch him. Tomorrow could be the last day of their friendship.
By the time Valentine’s Day rolled around, Fuchi’s confidence was holding on by a thread.
“Just say the words,” Mahiru had reminded him with a charming smile. “You’ve got this!”
“Hopefully,” Fuchi had mumbled, simultaneously dreading and anticipating the so-called “date.”
He trudged to the beach with his head hung low, fighting the urge to toss the bag of chocolates into every trash can he passed. At least the place he was heading to had one benefit—he could throw himself in the ocean a second time when things went wrong.
The beach seemed to match his mood, cold and dreary. Everything was painted a shade of dusty gray, from the sky to the sea. Not a single person was around, except for the figure standing near the edge of the water. They weren’t facing him yet. Fuchi almost wanted to turn around and run away, but he forced himself to approach.
Slowly, Tobi’s features came into focus. He was wearing black as usual, but his shirt was collared and his hair was smooth and neatly trimmed. Baku was nowhere to be seen.
“Hi,” Fuchi called out timidly. “Um… You look nice.”
Tobi’s head shifted towards him, eyes raking up and down his body. “You do, too,” he said, then turned back to the sea.
Fuchi finally reached him, and his heart stopped when he caught a glimpse of brilliant yellow. Tobi was holding a bouquet of sunflowers, a cornucopia of sunset orange and glittering gold. It was like a shining gemstone against the dismal gray of the beach.
Fuchi’s heart hammered against his ribcage. “Flowers?” he stuttered.
Tobi hummed his affirmation, but did not move.
Fuchi swallowed thickly. “I got you something,” he said, then extended the bag of chocolates in his hands.
Tobi took it, setting it down by his feet. “Thank you,” he said, voice even, but his eyes were fixed on the water.
Gray waves crashed onto the shore. Seagulls cried. Salt permeated the breeze.
“The beach is pretty,” Fuchi stammered, purely for the sake of filling in the awkward silence.
Tobi didn’t answer. The look in his eyes was as dull as the beach around then. Fuchi studied his expression, eyes slowly drifting down to Tobi’s lips.
He watched as Tobi’s tongue darted out and swiped over his lips. That was weird—he only did that when he was eating, but maybe his lips were dry from the cold. Speaking of which, since when did his face turn pink, or was that just from the chill in the air?
It took an embarrassingly long time for Fuchi to realize he had been staring at Tobi’s lips for nearly a whole minute, which were placed downwards on his face, not upwards. Mortified, Fuchi glanced up to see if Tobi had noticed.
Tobi was looking right at him. There was a terrifying moment of eye contact. Tobi’s face showed nothing. Fuchi’s face showed everything.
“Sorry. My bad. I didn’t mean to,” Fuchi fired off rapidly, flushing. He threw his gaze away to the side as fast as possible, where it could land somewhere safe and normal, also known as not his friend’s lips.
“You were staring.” Tobi stated this as if it were a mathematical fact.
“Sorry,” Fuchi mumbled.
“Why?”
That was a question Fuchi couldn’t answer so easily. “Um, because, I”—wanted to kiss you?—“…I don’t know,” he finished lamely, chickening out mid-sentence.
There was a long pause.
“Do you like me?” Tobi said, finally turning to face him.
“I—um—what?” Fuchi sputtered out gibberish.
Tobi held his gaze, silent.
“I’m sorry, Tobi,” Fuchi blurted. “I know it’s weird, and you won’t like it, and it’s okay if you don’t want to be friends with me anymore, so—”
“Was that a yes?” Tobi’s face was unreadable.
“Yes,” Fuchi stammered, dropping his head low out of shame.
“So do I. But—”
Fuchi nearly exploded on the spot. His head jerked up sharply. “What?” he shrieked. “You like me?”
Tobi’s eyes narrowed, turning back to the water. “Yes. But I’m sorry. I led you on. I thought I wanted to date you—and I do—but now that I’m here, I realize I can’t.”
A pit slowly formed in Fuchi’s stomach. “What?”
“It wouldn’t be fair to you. I don’t know what I’m doing. And I don’t think I’m going to be here for long at all—work is too dangerous.” His eyes looked lifeless as he spoke. “Besides, there’s other people out there, aren’t there?”
Fuchi’s heart sank. “What do you mean?” he whispered hoarsely.
“In the future, maybe you’ll meet someone who’s better for you.”
“But, Tobi”—Fuchi’s voice cracked—“you’re the one who’s best for me.”
“I don’t know. That could always change.” Tobi sighed. “I like you a lot. I just wanted to get that out, because I’ve been thinking about it for such a long time, but it’s not fair to you. If you don’t want to talk to me after this, I understand. I’m sorry.”
The words were tumbling out of Fuchi’s mouth before he could stop them. “I’m like you. I don’t know what I’m doing. And it’s not like I have a high life expectancy, either—depression and stuff. But you’re the only one who I can imagine being with.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry…”
Tobi’s jaw clenched. He stared at the sand below their feet, hands closing into fists. His knuckles went white from the pressure of his grip around the bouquet. The flowers looked like they were about to snap.
“I think you’re a cool person,” Fuchi stammered, forcing the words out of his mouth. “You’re cute, strong, kind—really kind. You’re always taking care of Ryuuko even when she annoys you. You listen to Mahiru and talk with him, even though you don’t like him. And you’re really nice to me, too. Plus, I think it’d be nice to do silly couple things together. Like kissing and cuddling and holding hands or whatever. We could do whatever you want. We could be friends, or a fling, or friends with benefits, or casual partners, or a full-fledged couple. Maybe for just a little bit…?”
Tobi’s face became progressively hotter as he talked. He glared daggers at the sand, unable to look Fuchi in the eye.
“But I understand if you don’t want to be with me at all,” Fuchi continued, voice wavering. “I don’t blame you. If you don’t want to be my friend anymore, it’s fine. I’m stupid. I don’t know why I said anything. So—”
Before he could finish, Tobi’s lips crashed into his like a meteor.
All of Tobi’s ferocity was channeled into the kiss—fast and passionate was the result. Their teeth clacked together. Tobi wasted no time in getting his tongue out, dragging it over Fuchi’s bottom lip. His teeth soon followed, gently biting down.
Once Fuchi realized what was happening, he didn’t hesitate to return the kiss. He tilted his head, leaning down so that Tobi didn’t have to stand on his tip-toes. Their noses bumped against each other. Awkwardly, he placed both hands around Tobi’s face, hands shaking.
Unfortunately, he could only savor the kiss for a brief moment—as fast as Tobi had moved in, he moved away. Fuchi’s hands dropped to his sides, going limp.
The bouquet of flowers lay on the sand, forgotten. Tobi retrieved it, whirled around, then shoved it into Fuchi’s hands. “Here,” he snapped, jaw clenched. “This was for you. It was the secret Baku was talking about.” His cheeks were smoldering. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re not stupid.”
Fuchi’s face was looking no better—it was twice as red. The kiss had stunned him into silence, and he nearly dropped the flowers. He gaped at Tobi, mouth forming a perfect “O.”
Tobi had kissed him. Tobi had kissed him. Tobi had kissed him. He had kissed Fuchi and meant it, because somehow, Fuchi was worthy of his love.
Fuchi thought he might be dreaming. “Wait. Really?” he yelped. “You’re sure that you like me?”
“Yes,” Tobi grumbled.
“Like, like like me?”
“Yes,” Tobi said, sighing. His voice lowered to a mutter. “You do, too? You really want to be with me?”
“Um. Y-Yeah.” Fuchi’s hands tightened around the bouquet. “‘Cause then we can do stuff like that again, right? If you want…”
Something in Tobi’s eyes shifted as he looked at Fuchi—the way his eyes widened was reminiscent of fear. “And then we could stay together forever, right?” he said, and it sounded more like a plea than a question.
“Right,” Fuchi affirmed, and he heard a sigh of relief. As he held the bouquet, he felt a second pair of hands drape over his.
“I feel like I can’t live without you,” Tobi mumbled, looking up at him.
“So do I,” Fuchi whispered, meeting his eyes.
Tobi’s fingers interlocked with his. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Is this a bad idea?”
“Maybe.” Fuchi offered him a smile. “But it doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
They stared deeply into each other’s eyes. Forever, Fuchi thought with a dreamy smile. Forever sounded nice. Forever to hold hands, cuddle, and kiss like they just had, over and over and over…
“You’re staring,” Tobi said.
Fuchi was ripped out of his fantasy. “Sorry!” he exclaimed, returning his eyes to the proper place on Tobi’s face.
“Why?”
“Because—” Fuchi paused, flushing. He forced the words out. “Because I want to kiss you.”
Tobi’s cheeks went pink. “Not in public. Let’s go to my place,” he said, snatched the bag of chocolates at his feet, then grabbed one of Fuchi’s hands.
They walked off the beach together. Fuchi’s heart soared. In one hand, he held a bouquet of flowers; in the other, he held Tobi’s hand. His gift was delivered, his confession (clumsily) said, and his lips kissed. If there ever was a “happily ever after,” it was this.
Suddenly, Valentine’s Day didn’t seem so bad anymore.