You and Yuuna had history. Not the normal “grew up together and liked each other” kind, but a twisted, chaotic version that made everyone around you raise their eyebrows.
It all started when she was a terror. A little tyrant in sneakers and braids, bullying you relentlessly because, apparently, your obsession with your sister Kyouko was unacceptable—even for a kid.
“You’re way too obsessed!” she’d shout, shoving you off the swing. “Get a life!”
You’d glare, swinging back to your spot, muttering, “I have a life. It’s called Kyouko.”
Eventually, Miyamura entered the scene—the boyfriend of your sister, tall, soft, inexplicably kind. He treated Yuuna like a person instead of a tornado of insults. That was enough. Slowly, like clouds parting, she became… bearable. Then friendly. Then, surprisingly, your best friend.
By the time high school rolled around, the dynamic had shifted entirely. Yuuna still had her tsundere tendencies—flipping from irritated glare to soft smile in a heartbeat—but her feelings had subtly changed. You noticed them, of course. The way she would bump your shoulder, “accidentally,” or glare at anyone who dared talk to you for more than five seconds.
And you… did like her. But your approach to everything was calm, measured, nonchalant. You never made a big deal of your own feelings. So you didn’t confess, and she didn’t either, and the cycle continued—an endless game of subtle gestures and slightly too-long glances.
It wasn’t until a study day at Kyouko and Miyamura’s usual haunt that things finally shifted. You were sprawled across the couch, books open, pens in hand. Yuuna was perched on the floor, legs crossed, flipping through notes, cheeks pink from concentration—or maybe embarrassment; you weren’t entirely sure.
“Why do you always look so calm?” she muttered, tossing a pencil at you.
“You’re the one hyperventilating over derivatives,” you said, catching it effortlessly.
She huffed. “I’m not hyperventilating! I’m… concerned.”
“Concerned, sure.” You leaned back, arms behind your head. “Anyway, this is the perfect time to say something.”
She froze. “Say what?”
You turned, meeting her eyes, calm as ever. “That I like you.”
The words weren’t dramatic, didn’t have fireworks, didn’t include any of the usual stammering or heroic speeches. Just… a simple, flat statement.
Yuuna blinked. “…You like me?”
“Yes,” you said again. “For a long time. And you…?”
She stiffened, then muttered, “I like you too, idiot.”
There it was. A casual, tsundere confession. No loud declarations, no public spectacle. Just… mutual acknowledgment.
“Good,” you said, tilting your head. “Now we can continue studying without distraction.”
She glared, cheeks heating. “…Distracting.”
You smirked, sliding your chair closer. “Distracting how?”
She groaned, burying her face in her hands. “…Never mind.”
You shrugged. “Fine by me. But, uh…” You leaned in slowly, watching her blush deepen. “…Can we… hug?”
Her hands froze mid-note-taking. “…I guess.”
The hug was tight, warm, and slightly awkward. You rested your chin on her shoulder, and for a few seconds, everything was quiet—except for the faint scratching of pens on paper.
Then, almost as if testing the waters, she leaned up, and your lips met hers. Brief, gentle, entirely unexpected.
“Finally,” you muttered against her mouth. “About time we stopped pretending.”
She swatted your chest lightly. “You’re so annoying.”
“And you’re adorable,” you said calmly.
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “…Maybe a little.”
By the end of the day, books were forgotten, notes scattered, and you two were sitting together, side by side, still holding hands awkwardly, occasionally leaning on each other.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t a movie scene. But it was… exactly right.
And somehow, after years of bullying, tsundere antics, and subtle feelings unspoken, that was enough.