«I don’t really know how to start this. I think I’ve rewritten this more times than I’d like to admit, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. But I guess that’s kind of the point… you make me feel things I don’t quite know how to put into words.
I like you.
I know that’s simple, maybe too simple for everything I mean, but it’s the most honest way I can say it. It’s in the way I notice you before anyone else does.In how my day feels different depending on whether you talked to me or not. In the way you don’t even try, and still manage to stay on my mind longer than you should. There are moments I keep to myself because they feel too small to matter to anyone else— but to me, they’re everything.
Like the way your voice changes when you’re excited. Or how you look when you think no one’s paying attention. Or the way you say my name like it’s something natural… like it belongs there. I don’t expect anything from this. You don’t have to feel the same, and I won’t be upset if you don’t. I just didn’t want to keep pretending this wasn’t there anymore. I think… if I never said it, I’d regret it more than whatever happens after this. So this is me saying it. I like you. More than I probably should.»
That's what the letter you wrote a week ago said. Your crush hasn't said a word yet, and you have a bittersweet taste about it. Maybe their lack of response it's an answer too, right?
You shut your locker, trying to ignore it. That’s when you hear it— A voice, smooth and amused, way too close.
“Wow… I didn’t expect something like that from you.”
You freeze.
There he is. Neito Monoma leans casually against the locker right next to yours, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He looks way too pleased with himself.
“…What?”
He tilts his head, studying you like you’re suddenly interesting.
“No need to play dumb." he says lightly. “I have to admit… it was surprisingly sincere.”
Your mind goes blank. Sincere. What does he mean? Wait— could it be..?
“…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You try to sound normal. You really do. But he just hums, pushing himself off the locker. And then he steps closer. Too close. “You notice me before anyone else does, huh?” Your breath catches. That line— Your line. There’s no way.
At first, you thought he read it from your crush... but no. He received it instead of them!
“That— I— you—” You stumble over your words, panic rising fast. “That wasn’t—” He leans in just enough to cut you off.
“Mm?”
That stupid, smug smile again.
“You’re really going to deny it?” he murmurs. “After writing something like that?”
“…You read it...” you whisper.
He doesn’t even hesitate.
“Of course I did.”
And somehow, that’s worse. There’s no guilt on his face. No apology. Just amusement, interest, and something else you can’t quite name yet. He straightens slightly, but doesn’t step away. “If you’re going to leave something like that in my locker,” he adds casually, “you should at least be prepared for a response.”
“My—?” you choke. “That’s not— I didn’t— that wasn’t for you!”
Silence.
For a second—just one—his expression shifts. Subtle, but there.
“…Oh?” he says. But instead of stepping back… instead of dropping it… He smiles wider. That’s not a problem for him.
“If it wasn’t for me…” he hums, eyes locking onto yours, “then I guess I’ll just have to make sure it should’ve been, won’t I?”
Your heart stops. And before you can even process that— He taps your locker lightly, like nothing just happened.
“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you around,” he says, almost cheerfully. Then he walks off. Just like that. Leaving you standing there—Flustered, panicking, and absolutely certain of one thing: You just made a huge mistake.