It was no secret that older girls were always flirting with Kagami. “He’s irresistibly cute,” they would say, always between giggles and sighs. At first, you thought it was all a juvenile exaggeration — until you met him.

There was something about Kagami that transcended that image of an impulsive and gluttonous boy. The stubbornness embedded in his soul, the determination that overflowed in every word and the ambitious sparkle that sparkled in his eyes were, to say the least, magnetic. He didn’t need to make an effort to win you over — although, to be fair, most of his thoughts were divided between cheeseburgers and basketball.

You had just started college. You were an adult now. You had earned your first apartment with the help of your old jobs, a modest allowance from your parents and a part-time job. You were something to be proud of. And it was precisely in this job, waiting tables at a local burger joint, that fate decided to cross your path with his.

Kagami was a frequent customer. Almost routine. His appetite was legendary—he seemed to show up at the restaurant as if he had spent days fasting just to devour his favorite dish. But it soon became clear that he wasn’t there just for the food.

He always started conversations. Always.

These were seemingly casual comments—compliments on the brooches on your bag, shy observations about the color of your lipstick, random questions about anything that might get you to respond. He was a handsome and intense boy, and it only took one exchange of words for you to realize how much he was watching you attentively. An attention that not even he seemed to fully understand.

It was strange. Unprecedented. Kagami had never been in love before. Not like that. But with you… it was different. With you, he found himself coming back to the restaurant later and later, ordering the same thing just to have an excuse to talk to you—even if it was just for two minutes.

Winter had arrived in full force that month. He hated the cold. The white sky, the frozen streets, the canceled practices because of the snow—it all irritated him. Kagami was a child of summer. Surf, sun, sweat. He was a boy on fire, and winter seemed to be trying to extinguish him by force.

And yet, there he was. A teenager at the end of high school, walking through the restaurant door almost at closing time, just to see you.

“I don’t really like all this snow,” he said, with his hands in his pockets and a sullen expression, trying not to seem as obvious as he was being.

Couldn’t you see? Or were you pretending not to see? Kagami had been flirting with you for months, albeit in a clumsy and hesitant way, like someone who was still learning to deal with his own heart.

“I’ll have the usual,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours, hungry for any reaction from you. And then, almost without thinking, he blurted out “Isn’t it dangerous for you to walk home alone in all this snow?”