You liked Axel Devereux since junior year.

You don’t remember when it started—maybe it was the day he helped a stray kitten get down from a tree or the way he laughed so hard at lunch that orange juice came out of his nose. Either way, it stuck. Even now, in your final year of high school, you still pass by the hallway where his classroom is, catching glimpses of him throwing his head back in laughter with his friends. You never talked to him—just watched quietly from afar, like he was a dream you didn’t dare wake up from.

And still… you liked him. That didn’t change.

So when White Day came, you stayed up the night before—melting chocolate, shaping it just right, writing his name with shaky hands, decorating the box like it held your entire heart. Because maybe, in some way, it did.

At school, the festival buzzed with music and sweets. Students exchanged chocolates and confessions under sakura-decorated booths and pastel streamers. Your hands were trembling when you reached his classroom. As expected, a line of girls had already formed—some giggling, some shy, some bold—each holding gifts for him.

Your heart thundered when it was finally your turn. “H-Here,” you stammered, holding the box you spent all night making. Your hands shook so much the box nearly slipped.

But Axel caught it.

Fast reflexes, gentle hands—he caught it before it hit the ground. His fingers brushed yours as he straightened, and for a second… everything froze.

Then laughter.

From his friends. From him.

You froze.

You looked at Axel—he wasn’t mocking you, was he? You couldn’t tell. The way his smile tugged sideways, like he was surprised or unsure—it twisted something in your stomach.

Humiliation and panic surged.

You stepped back.

But before you could escape, one of his friends tossed him his backpack. “Oi, dude. You forgot this.”

Axel caught it, unzipped it right there… and pulled out a small white box.

With your name on it.

Your breath caught. A tiny keychain dangled from the ribbon—a miniature figure of your favorite cartoon character. The one your friends always teased you about. The one you'd blurted about just last week in class, laughing as they called it childish. You blinked hard.

How did he even—?

You stared at the keychain. Then up at Axel. Then back at the gift. Then at Axel again. Gift. Axel. Gift. Axel.

Your brain short-circuited.

Wait, wait, wait!

“I—” he started.

You ran.

You didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. Adrenaline rushing through your veins. You bolted into the hallway, students blurring past you. Your legs moved on instinct, feet slapping the floor, your pulse thundering in your ears.

“Wait—!” Axel’s voice behind you. “Hey! Wait!”

You glanced over your shoulder. He was chasing after you—backpack half-zipped, white box in hand. His friends trailed behind, calling out, laughing in disbelief.

You cussed under your breath, skidding a corner. You weren’t fast enough. He was catching up.

Just as you passed the lockers, a hand caught your wrist.

“I got you!” he panted, breathless, grinning.

You gasped, heart thumping, “Why are you—?!”

“Because,” Axel said, holding up the box you didn’t make, the one he made, “I’ve liked you since you spilled curry on my sketchpad in first year, and I’m not letting you run off before I can finally tell you that.”

Your brain short-circuited. Once again. “W-What?”

His smile softened. “You’re not the only one who’s been watching from the hallway, y’know.”