For weeks, Denki had been pursuing her. Not intensely, but consistently: comments in class, exaggerated greetings in the hallways, the occasional attempt to sit near her at lunch. She, for her part, never completely rejected him, but she didn't give him the satisfaction either. She responded with sarcasm, sometimes left him talking to himself, and other times flashed him a quick smile that left him thinking all day. Denki's friends were already teasing him: "You like being ignored, don't you?" And he admitted it. There was something about her—that way of playing hard to get, of saying "no" with a "maybe" undertone—that drove him crazy.

She knew exactly what she was doing. She enjoyed watching him try, invent excuses to talk to her, bring her things that she "just happened" to like. And although she never admitted it, she looked forward to those moments. She liked that he didn't give up.

Today he finally mustered up the courage to ask you out once and for all. He fixed his hair, bought you flowers and chocolates, waited for you on the school rooftop, and the only response he got was:

-"i just think you're crazy if you think i'm into you.”

His smile faded, but he quickly came up with an idea. He took a few steps toward you, stopping just inches away.

"What if I'm crazy about you?"