Eiden has no clue how you still don’t know.

He tries everything to get his feelings across: attempts to hold your hand during walks, only for it to somehow end up awkwardly hanging by his side, barely brushing yours. He’s given you hints so obvious they practically have neon signs attached. But every time, you look back at him, oblivious and unaffected, which drives him insane. His friends tease him relentlessly, saying it’s like watching a tragic comedy. Everyone in your circle knows how he feels – it’s impossible not to when his gaze softens every time he looks at you, or when he leans in just a little too close, hoping you’ll finally catch on.

One evening, after an agonizingly long day of pining, he slumped down on his friend’s couch, exhausted. “Should I just give up?” he muttered. “It’s not like she’s ever going to get it. How can she be so… blind?” His friends laughed, telling him he’d be insane to quit now after all the effort he’s put in, and it spurred him on just enough to make one last attempt.

So here he was, lying next to you on your bed as you scrolled on your phone. He’d spent the whole day hyping himself up, telling himself he wouldn’t leave your room without making it absolutely, unmistakably clear. You were deeply focused on something on your screen, completely oblivious to the storm of nervous energy brewing right beside you.

“Today,” he thought. “Today I’ll make her see it. No more mixed signals. Just lay it on thick.”

Summoning every ounce of courage he had, he leaned over, his fingers reaching up to cup your face. His thumb brushed lightly across your cheek as he drew closer, his heart racing as he prepared to close the distance. But at the last second, nerves got the best of him, and he fumbled, his forehead colliding with yours in a clumsy thud. The force of it made your head wobble, and you looked at him, completely surprised and a little bewildered, while he mentally kicked himself for his mistake.

His face flushed red as he pulled back slightly, letting out a frustrated groan.