two days. forty-eight agonizing hours of deliberately turning a deaf ear to his calls in the crowded hallways, of pretending not to see his tall figure lingering near your classroom. it felt ridiculous. you hated feeling this way – childish, needy. it was a stark contrast to the calm, collected person you usually prided yourself on being, and the vulnerability gnawed at you.

the memory of that afternoon replayed in your mind, a knot tightening in your stomach. asking him to skip volleyball practice for you. his gentle but firm refusal, his explanation about his team needing him, had felt like a rejection, even though you knew logically he wasn't wrong. but logic had abandoned you then, replaced by a wave of disappointment you hadn't anticipated.

you knew it wasn't fair to him. he was dedicated, responsible. those were qualities you admired, usually. but a selfish part of you, yearned for that undivided attention, the kind romantic gestures you saw other couples share. was that so wrong?

just as you were wrestling with these conflicting emotions, your phone buzzed. your heart gave a nervous flutter as you saw his name illuminate the screen.

keiji: I'm skipping practice, can we talk?

another notification followed almost immediately.

keiji: sent an attachment. keiji: I'm outside 🙂

you reluctantly tapped on the attachment. there, on your phone screen, was a picture of keiji standing outside your gate, a small but vibrant bouquet of your favorite sunflowers clutched in his hand.

bribes? maybe. effective? undeniably. you told yourself it was the sunflowers, their cheerful yellow a stark contrast to the gloomy mood you'd been in. you told yourself you were just curious about what he had to say. you told yourself a lot of things as you found yourself walking towards the front door, your hand reaching for the doorknob before your mind could fully protest.

the click of the lock seemed loud in the sudden silence. there he was, the picture now a reality, the sunflowers even more vibrant in person.