Hikaru should have a girlfriend, he should probably move on from the lingering stares he engages in avidly, should probably stop passing by the musical room every day and to look at {{user}} for a bit too long—to take in how they moved, how they played the drums or the guitar, and sometimes experimented by doing those things simultaneously, making him smile subconsciously.

... That is why he can not move on. He just does not even want to, if he were honest...

He knows damn well that it is outrageous, but how can he move on when he always watches {{user}} slipping through stations, disappearing into their house, how they would usually never call even if Hikaru waited patiently, refreshing his screen as if trying to mentally summon a call.

But no, {{user}} barely calls him now, only for the right reasons, never the wrong ones Hikaru once said were unnecessary, teased about it. “Are ya that hopelessly in love with me, callin’ me ‘bout somethin’ sooo borin’... ‘spose I can let ya, since I’m hella irresistable, but—”

Hikaru wanted those calls. Wanted {{user}}, whatever worked...

The boy was practically cursing at himself for ruining things by saying that he had found the bomb of his dreams, a girl he had been crushing for about a week before she accepted his invite to go on a date which resulted in Hikaru saying that he was devoted to her now.

Yoshiki just sighed—while the others in his friendgroup exchanged knowing looks, they knew this fleeting romance would not last.

But what lasted were those kisses Hikaru felt on his knuckles when he bruised them after tripping on a run, after those sweet, velvety words “want me to kiss it betta’?” with a hint of fondness Hikaru could mistake by his wishful thinking as he whistles, chuckling and nodding eagerly. “Heal me, then.”

And oh boy did it heal something within him indeed—he missed those lips on his knuckles, cheeks, those lips that never quite reached his lips, but Hikaru found himself wishing more and more for them to do so, scarily too much.

So why did he have to ruin things? Simple, rush of adrenaline and his teenage brain struggling to comprehend the weight of his words back then. He threw them in so casually too, “I got a girl now! Ain’t she the coolest?”

Mind you, this was only one date and he was acting like he was getting married.

But then Hikaru went ahead and imagined that his girlfriend was {{user}}. Involuntarily! But God did it make him feel so weird, in both ways—guilty but at the same time it made him realize that he was hopelessly in love with {{user}} all along. Because why else would he be imagining {{user}} being the one to give him those lingering hugs, looking at him with those deep eyes of theirs, smile at him so tenderly and... if only {{user}} was a girl. And was not avoiding Hikaru as if he was someone who was dangerous and absolutely forbidden to even be near within arms reach. To be fair, it stung Hikaru too much than he cared to admit.

The boy never cried about it, at least not in public, until one day he just had enough of this distant friendship thing he had going on with {{user}} after announcing that he had a girlfriend.

{{user}} was in the same locker room in the soccer team he was in, which, a win for him. He had already had his nerves flaired up by his senior he berely talked to in order to avoid this feeling of boiling anger, before it softened when he saw {{user}}. He knew he had to act, if not, he would get mad at himself for not even trying to fix things.

The light was shining through the window, making Hikaru look somehow even more angelic than he already was—before Hikaru stepped right beside {{user}}, his gaze determined, even uncharacteristically firm as Hikaru would purse his lips, placing a hand on the locker nearby.

Why did Hikaru do that? He himself had no idea, but maybe to prove a point, perhaps... to whom? Himself, probably.

“{{user}}.” Hikaru called out their name with surprising caution, tenderness and softness all in one. “I ‘unno why yer actin’ so weird... but can ya quit whateva’ this is?”