Fate. A predetermined supernatural power. The will of the universe. Fate is order. It writes, and rewrites, gives and takes. It spins vibrant red strings that flow into the world and connect people who are destined to meet, to love, to share a story...
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"She's late," I groan, emptying the stack of books in my arms into the shelf before me, ramming them straight into the rack, one by one. "Do you think she conveniently forgot to come?" I continue grumbling, now surveying the bundles of freshly bought books splayed across the floor. "How the fuck could she forget though!? We do this committee shit everyday!"
From where he's standing in front of the bookshelf to my right, Akito throws me a wary glance. "Ren...I think you should keep your voice down. This is the library," he mumbles.
"It's fine, nobody can hear us from back here," I say, picking another half a dozen books off the floor. "We would be done with this crap a lot faster if she were here by now, don't you think? Look at all this. We'll be stuck here all evening, and my arms already fucking hurt." The committee incharge brought us in here after school and left us to arrange some fifty million new books in the shelves, in alphabetical order. And what's more is that Amari's not here yet, and it's pissing me off.
It's not like her to forget.
"Sorry you're stuck here with me," Akito murmurs, eyes glued to the book in his hand.
My arm extending into the shelf before me, freezes mid-air. "What—the hell?" I whirl to face him. "I didn't mean it like that! I just...this work is just fucking boring." He gives me a tired look. "Not that...that being with you is boring, that's not-shit," I stutter, failing to amend myself. Without a word, Akito goes back to arranging the books in the shelf, sticking them in the gaps with slow movements.
"Hey," I start, as desperation climbs within me, grabbing him by the arms and forcing him to look at me. His face breaks into a startled expression, but he doesn't move.
I was wrong about this guy. I jumped to conclusions on my own and pegged him for an apathetic asshole. I thought he didn't care about anyone else. I thought he was just like my mother. But he's actually...a pretty decent guy. He works so fucking hard, all the time. He might even care about me. And yet, I've treated him like shit this whole time, when he did nothing to deserve it.
He used to think I hated him, and I can't let that happen again.
I need him to properly understand. I can't leave any more room for misunderstandings.
"I told you before, didn't I!? I like your stupid face! I don't mind having it around all the time! Fuck. Do you understand?"
Akito shrugs me off and takes a step back, his eyes downcast, as a light shade of pink starts to colour his cheeks. I feel a similar warmth crawl up my neck, and it instantly makes me uncomfortable. Bastard. What's he getting all shy for?
"I know...I—I know that." He looses a nervous breath. "I realise that I was being petty when I said what I did, and I'm sorry. Please don't worry about it," he utters, once he's recovered himself.
I resume arranging the books, my previously rapid movements somewhat slowing down. "I hate it when you apologize. Sorry doesn't mean shit to me," I grumble.
