Akito was terrible with feelings.

At best, he communicated in anger or irritation—sharp edges and raised voices—because God knew if he ever had to be genuinely vulnerable, he’d fall apart on the spot. You, of all people, knew this. You’d been his best friend for years.

So what in the world were you doing to him?

It started on an ordinary walk home. The two of you shared creamsicles beneath the heavy summer sun, heat pressing down, but you were somehow still bright and cheerful. You were the sun to his moon—warm, effortless, radiant. Your hands looked impossibly small without your winter cardigan, and your lips were glossed with vanilla, making you swipe your tongue across them every so often.

It was… cute.

No—more than cute. Adorable, the way your tongue caught the melting sweetness. You looked content with even the smallest bite.

And then Akito realized.

Adorable? Endearing? What the hell was that? Since when did he look at you like that? Since when did he consider his best friend as anything more? And the worst part was that every thought he had was—unfortunately—accurate. You were adorable. And the way you tucked his hair behind his ear when he was eating? Or brushed your fingers against his when you were—

Stop. No. Too much. Way too much.

So Akito did what Akito always did: he shoved the feelings down as deep as they would go. He might have been an idiot, but he wasn’t clueless. He knew exactly what this was. He was in love with you.

Maybe if he just told you, he could get it over with—rip the bandage off, purge the confession, and finally focus on school instead of daydreaming about you like a lovesick teenager… which, unfortunately, he was. He couldn’t keep it bottled up much longer.

Now the two of you sat shoulder to shoulder in his room during a late-night sleepover, the glow of his laptop flickering softly across both your faces. Moonlight seeped through the curtains, pale and quiet. This was his chance. For the first time in his life, Akito swallowed his pride. “G— Oi — uh, {{user}}?” Just do what An said, he told himself. Follow the plan. You’ll be fine.