𝐖𝐇𝐘? ━━ 𝗩𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗛𝗜𝗧 | ✓

05

❝ BUT STRAWBERRIES AND CIGARETTES ALWAYS TASTE LIKE YOU ! ❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ♡︎♡︎♡︎

SIX MONTHS HAVE passed and the only thing that changed about you was your hair. Instead of the usual [h/c] colour, it was now a light green in colour and was slightly longer. It oddly reminded me of highlighters and the wasabi lollipops you always ate, maybe that was the reason you decided to colour it.

Instead of waiting for me by the gate per usual, you stood not so far away near a shady part of the building in front of the school. You always hated getting in direct sunlight, you told me that it irritates your skin so I always cover the both of us with an umbrella.

"I'm going to your house." You told me, and my heart nearly stopped beating both at the fact that you had just said that out of the blue and my father would most likely reprimand me for bringing home someone so randomly

But I didn't get to pull my phone out of my pocket to at least get permission from my father when you had already taken my hand and forced me to get in your car— it smelled just like your cologne, I liked it yet it always itched my nose just by how strong it was.

As you drove wordlessly, I was rapidly typing an excuse to my father just for your visit. He was questioning me nonstop and it nearly made my mind blank out if it weren't for you putting your hand on my chest so I wouldn't slam against the window as you abruptly stopped the car.

Just feeling your hand against my chest made my heart beat faster, it was practically at my throat the more I tried to calm myself down.

"I told you to put your seatbelt on." You grunted, leaning so close to me just to put my seatbelt on for me.

You were mere inches away and yet— and yet I do not have any courage to make my liking towards you known.

My father had given me a reluctant permission to bring you home, just as long as it wasn't a hindrance to my studies later on. Oh, how he still doesn't know about all of this terrified me— he'll be sure to not make it easier for me once I'm in high school.

The moment my house was near, I couldn't help but gulp down whatever it was that was rising in my throat. You didn't seem to be fazed since you kept driving until we were right in front of it. From inside the car, I could see the lights were on, which means father was at home.

Not even sparing me a glance or anything, you had went out of your car and jogged to where I was, swinging open the car door and dragging me out by my hand— you had stopped grabbing my wrist for quite some time now and started to hold my hand instead.

And in that moment, the front door of my house had opened to reveal my father in semi-formal clothing, a tight-lipped smile on his lips as he greeted the two of us. You only gave him a stiff nod before pulling me to your side.

"T—This is [Name] Yashida." I introduced you to him, fully expecting for him to drive you away since you nearly looked like what any delinquent would look like. Coloured hair, unruly uniform, an intimidating aura, and a strong attitude.

Yet just by the mention of your last name, my father had perked up and let the both of us inside, even going so far as offering you a glass of juice— which he rarely does to any of my previous guests. You declined everything except for a cup of Earl grey tea.

I wasn't really a big fan of teas and so it surprised me when you gladly took the steaming cup from my father and drank it with a satisfied hum in the end.

"Your father seems strict." You had commented once he was out of earshot, I wasn't really taken aback by that statement since I knew what he was like behind closed doors.

"Are your parents strict too?" I had let the question slip from my lips too early. Although I was curious— much like how everyone else was— there was a vague line which I personally drew in case it seemed I was invading your personal space.

But you didn't seem to mind since your facial expressions didn't even change, your eyes were always the same since the first day I met you. Galaxies still swirled in them with the intentions of you swallowing them sooner or later.

"My father is." You had answered a few seconds later, taking a long sip from your drink.

Then I realized that I had never met any of your friends, classmates, or relatives. Hell, I wasn't even sure if you actually did attend the school you always dragged me to and not just a random person that happened to have the uniform.

"Always do what you love." You had said the same sentence when we were both at the abandoned school, drinking the last drops of your tea and standing up.

What you said still rang something in my mind, even now as I am remembering all of these.

What did you mean by that? What did I even love doing?

Karate. That was it. That was the thing I loved doing— but there were more things I needed to focus on instead of a silly little martial arts that couldn't possibly benefit me in the future.

Yet why would you even say that? Why did it seem as if there was a hint of sadness in your voice as you said that?

Why did it seem as if you were telling that to yourself instead?