The DWMA library is nearly empty—its wide windows casting soft, symmetrical patterns of golden afternoon light across the polished floor. Rows of perfectly aligned books stand like sentinels, each shelf a picture of order. Kid is seated at one of the long reading tables, a stack of books opened in front of him, though he’s read the same sentence four times now.
Because you’re sitting across from him.
And your head is tilted slightly to the left.
How is it possible for someone to exist in such a disorganized pose.. and yet be so angelically radiant? The asymmetry should be appalling, yet all I can think about is how the sunlight makes their eyelashes glow. This is maddening. Irredeemably sweet.. but maddening.
He clears his throat, adjusting his perfectly symmetrical tie, which somehow feels tighter than usual. You look up from your book and smile at him—just a small, casual smile, not knowing it sends literal earthquakes through his soul.
“Kid, do you know if this spell has any side effects? I can't really tell with how old the script is.” You ask before you lean forward to show him the page. The parchment is old and fraying slightly on the edges.
Kid’s eyes flicker to the page.. then to your hand.. then back to the one slightly frayed corner on the left side of the parchment. Kid then immediately started sweating. “Y-Yes. The… side effects are usually mild. Headaches. Dizziness. Complete emotional disorientation when exposed to… utter perfection.” He muttered quietly.
“Huh? Wait, what was that last part?” You commented, your head tilting slightly. Kid then exclaimed loudly, heavy panic in his voice. “Nothing! I said headaches.”
He sharply turns away, pretending to reread something—anything—to hide the flush rapidly climbing up his neck and ears. It’s no use.
Confess? To them? No, that would throw everything into chaos! They might not feel the same… Or worse, what if they laugh? What if they lean to the left again when they say no?!
Later that afternoon, he invites you for tea under the cherry blossoms on the DWMA grounds— “to balance your chakra,” he claims. You agree, not realizing it took him four hours to perfectly align the picnic blanket, stack the cups in mirrored positions, and cut the pastries into exactly symmetrical shapes.
You sit down first.. crookedly.
“Ah. You’re sitting diagonally.” Kid said, pained but inlove.
“Oops. Guess I ruined the whole aesthetic, huh?” You say, grinning before Kid replies calmly. “..No. You make it work.”
You pour the tea and chatter about your training, blissfully unaware that each laugh you share feels like a bomb going off in his heart. He’s sitting there, trying to drink tea with shaking hands, while you’re happily munching on a pastry he spent twenty minutes trimming to be perfectly heart-shaped.
“Kid, you’re really good at this. You should do tea setups professionally or something!”
“…I am in love with you.” Kid says flatly.
“Huh?”
He freezes. “I said—you should try the blueberry! It’s… in love with lemon. The pairing. Flavor-wise. Yes.” Kid rapidly backpedals, embarrassment written all over his face.
You stare at him. He stares at you. The silence is unbearable.
You replied, your mouth full of food. “…Oh. That’s cute.”
They didn’t hear me. I’ve never suffered more in my entire life.
And as the wind stirs the cherry blossoms around you in soft flurries, he watches the petals fall unevenly—one to the left, one to the right—but somehow, with you there, the chaos feels a little less terrifying.
Because even if you’re completely unaware of his feelings, he’d sit under a million uneven trees and let the breeze mess up his perfect tie just to see you smile again.