Yoshida had never been subtle about you.

From the beginning, he’d been clear—almost unnervingly so. Not just interest, not curiosity, but a genuine crush laid out in that calm, unreadable way of his.

He asked you out with the same tone he used for everything else, like it was already decided you’d say yes. And you always did.

The problem was… you never seemed to realize what it meant.

He’d suggest doing something after school, you’d agree easily—too easily—only to act surprised when it became obvious it was a date. Even when he spelled it out. Even when he paid. Even when he watched you with a smile as you ate, smiling to yourself like it was nothing more than free food and idle conversation.

You never treated it like a date. 
Never treated him like someone who wanted you.

Naive, maybe. Or avoidant. Yoshida wasn’t sure which bothered him more.

Still, he didn’t stop. He never pressed, never demanded clarity. He told himself he could be patient—despite the fact that nothing about him ever truly was.

If anything, he enjoyed the chase. The ambiguity. The way you laughed it off, brushed him aside, called him a tease when he tried to make his feelings clear.

Clear enough for you to understand, and not deny it, or ignore it.

Sometimes, he wished that were true. If he were just teasing, then maybe the way his chest tightened when you smiled wouldn’t mean anything at all.

The classroom was empty now. Chairs pushed in, bags gone, the class shatter now gone.

You were still at your desk, gathering your things, when you noticed Yoshida hadn’t moved.

His desk was in front of yours. He turned around in his seat instead, resting his elbows on your desk like he belonged there. One cheek sank into his palm, posture lazy—too relaxed for someone who’d been watching you this closely.

His dark eyes met yours, steady and calm, unreadable as ever but there was a faint curve at the corner of his lips.

“Wanna go out again?” he asked lightly. “We can go to that place you like.”