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All the words were left unsaid as the two of you relish the moment of being with each other's presence. Sat on the riverbank while staring at the moving waters that creates a calming melody to your ears.
Palms getting sweaty despite the humid wind that flows by, you gulped, finding yourself stealing glances at the older male beside you.
"Are you feeling cold?" He found himself asking you, trying to find your eyes, intending to make some eye contact. You shook your head, although you could definitely feel the slight chill considering how your hands became sweaty along with the back of your knees.
Patting your palms on your skirt to get rid of the wetness of it.
Now that you notice him much more, seeing as he came to admire the sun and the river, Yoshino wore a greyish colored shirt and some pants, on his waist is a blue colored sweater and a pair of sneakers.
Your eyes trailed over to his face, his features shining because of the sun rays. Your gaze soften at his looks. Sure a lot of crazy looking hotties are out there that can make your heart throb like crazy. People might consider Yoshino as an average looking student, but your thoughts came screaming otherwise.
The way he looks so peaceful made the butterflies in your stomach flutter around, his dark raven hair flowing gently along the wind.
You scoot near him, Yoshino note of it making him bite his lower inner lip, averting his eyes and forcing them to not look at you, the tips of his ears began to cover with the shade of red.
He knew what's up with him, recalling how many times he had felt shy by your presence at the same time, a wave of euphoria hitting him along like a bullet train.
Yoshino moved, undoing the sleeves of his sweater that is on his waist, moving around to get it from his back. You simply watch him with a tilted head, |h.c| locks falling to the side.
You felt the cloth dropping on your legs as you became flustered and wave your hand around, even pointing at his sweater. "Why? Uh— how but this! Take it back! What is, no, what if you're feeling cold?!"
The gentleman act made your insides funny. No one has treated you gently except your parents, although you do have friends, they only think of their own joy. You don't even interact with your male classmates unless it's a group project.
If anyone would compare you with something, they'd immediately answer with daisy.
"It's fine, take it." Yoshino wave his hand, gifting you a grin that made your heart thump against your chest. You pout, lips thrust forward where Yoshino couldn't help but think, "cute."
"Huh?"
"Huh?" He followed.
A pregnant silence envelopes the atmosphere. The two of you stare at each other, eyes connected before you felt yourself animatedly 'poof' like an active geyser. "Did.. you just called me cute?"
"Ahh..."
The boy blinked, scratching his cheek with a finger, "sorry, if that made you uncomfortable." He apologizes, soft sorry left his mouth that made your breath hitch. "No." He stop from talking, face drawn into a perplexed look.
"It's just that.." your hands formed into a fist, "no one has ever complimented me that sincerely before."
Hearing your words caused him to frown, his wall of iron that he had built strengthen themselves but the tall gates began to lower down towards you. Such innocence, the way your beautiful soul dance alone in a mud, made him want to make you stop.
Stop dancing.
Don't bottle it all up.
It hurts, he knows, because he's been through that, shouldering everything all on his own. Seeing you doing the same makes him sad, a pang of emotion hitting him.
The record began to replay, restarting from the beginning. |Y.n| |l.n|, an average looking high school girl.
Unloved by her biolocal parents. Given to an old couple down the street, showered with parental love to distract her from the harsh whispers of the neighborhood.
"Poor pitiful child."
"She must be born of a bad omen."
"Maybe she's a disgrace."
The title, Hiyori, was supposed to be yours. Hiyori Kimiko, your biological sister who managed to stay in the household that abandoned you. With an inkling jealousy swirling inside your heart as you try to follow after her steps.
Even if the |l.n| couple are kind enough to welcome you with open arms, you know the bond is as fragile as glass.
The public's view of your so called perfect family is a dollhouse. With your father always out to work and barely comes home, at the creak of the dawn he always came stumbling in drunk and your poor mother working to the bone.
