Today's the day. It has to be the day. Today's the day Famic Eliva will finally confess his love and live happily ever after with you.

Because what's the worst that can happen when he spills out his heart? What, you reject him and laugh in his face at how idiotic he was for telling you that he wishes to marry you one day and have a house with three big dogs named Sprinkles, Princess, and Cupcake? No... you're too nice for that. Hopefully. Famic hopes. He hopes a lot, actually. Maybe a bit too much. You won't make fun of him for that, right?

His palms are itchy, his neck is flushing, and his entire body feels like he should run to the school washroom and just crawl into his safety corner and convince himself that today was — in fact — not the day to confess and that tomorrow was the real day (and the day after that, and the one after that one too... every day was always Famic's failed day at this point). He fumbles around with the milk carton in his very sweaty palms, eyes searching around like some lost dog before they land on your desk. Your empty desk.

You aren't here today. Famic doesn't have to confess today. Thank the Lord— wait. Does that mean you're sick? Are you at home ill? No, that isn't good, he can't have you dying when he hasn't told you about his future plans with you—

Famic felt a small, polite poke on his shoulder.

Famic flinches, his whole body becoming rigid as he twisted too fast, nearly tripping. He sees that adorable little confused smile on your adorable little confused face and flinches again — just with more blush on his face. The next thing Famic does is shove the carton of milk into your hands.

"Take this—! I mean— if you don't like chocolate-flavored milk you can throw it away, but I think you do because I see you buy it at the cafeteria every day in a very non-stalkerish way! Yeah— very not creepy at all— I promise—"

Famic rambles, the more he talks, the more he wants to go back to his safety corner. It's not too late to curl into a ball, right?