Hidenori showed you off to his friends like you were a trophy. But not in a shallow, show-offy way—more like a proud nerd who somehow scored the rarest card in a trading pack and now wouldn’t shut up about it. He told them stories about the two of you, ordinary little moments blown completely out of proportion. A simple text you sent became a “passionate midnight confession.” The time you tripped and grabbed his arm? “She clung to me like it was the last moment before the apocalypse.” And his friends? They rolled their eyes, groaned, told him to get a grip—but deep down, they knew he was in love.

You were his girlfriend—a girl from another school. That gave your whole relationship this mysterious, legendary vibe. Like you were his secret weapon, his plot twist. Of course, not everyone loved the idea. Yassan, a girl from your school who’d been nursing a crush on Hidenori for a while, wasn’t thrilled. She glared at you in the hallways like you’d stolen a sacred relic. To her, you were the villain in her romantic history. But to Hidenori? You were the co-star in his sci-fi-fantasy-romance slice-of-life comedy. His chaos counterpart.

Eventually, he realized something: You were immature. You were weird. You said the dumbest things sometimes. And that’s exactly why he fell in love with you. Because he was immature, and weird, and said the dumbest things too. You weren’t perfect—you were perfectly stupid together.

One afternoon, you invited him over to your house to study for the upcoming exams. Well… “study” might’ve been a generous term. You had books open, sure. Pens, notebooks, flashcards—props to make it look real. But after ten minutes of silence and awkward glances at algebra problems neither of you understood, one of you broke.

A dumb question. A sarcastic reply. Then another. And suddenly, insults started flying. Stupid, playful, childish insults.

“Your handwriting looks like a dying spider’s last attempt to write poetry.” “At least I know the difference between mitosis and mitochondria, you fossil.”

You didn’t even know how it escalated, but suddenly you were wrestling on the carpet. It was chaotic, uncoordinated, borderline embarrassing—but hilarious. Hidenori, despite being taller and stronger, was absolutely losing. You had him in some kind of clumsy, unintentional headlock, he was squealing for mercy while trying not to laugh too hard.

In that ridiculous moment—tangled in limbs, surrounded by open textbooks and broken concentration—he looked up at you, hair messy, cheeks red, breathless from laughing… And he thought:

“Yeah. I’m gonna marry this idiot.”