12 Roses

37 | A Painting of a Good Person

You stared at Toge's empty desk, absent just a few days into the school year. Although it may have been because there were only five of you, the classroom was particularly empty that day without him.

"Where's Toge?" you asked Maki, who glanced at his desk, then the calendar, and sighed. "He's not coming."

You were used to not knowing certain things about Toge, Maki, and Panda at first, as they had clearly known each other far longer than you knew them.

This time, however, Yuta knew the story as well. He peered at the calendar and frowned before staring down at his hands.

Your face felt warm and you pursed your lips together, determined not to look a bit hurt that you were left in the dark about something everyone else had known about. It wasn't your business, not technically.

Panda noticed the worried wrinkles form on your face. He knew why Toge had left you out of this part of him, but he didn't know if it was his place to tell you why.

•••

You stepped off the bus, stopping to wave at Panda, and you made your way to the flower shop.

Unconsciously, you began trying to think of reasons why Toge wasn't at school, which turned into thinking of reasons why he wouldn't want to tell you something personal about himself, which turned into thinking of reasons why he wouldn't like you.

You groaned and began striking your head with your fist.

Someone grabbed hold of your wrist and you opened your eyes, seeing Toge staring at you were concerned eyes. You looked around, making sure you didn't get off at the wrong stop, and looked back at him.

You stared at his hand gripping your wrist and he recoiled, his face flushing a hue like pale pink hellebores. "Sorry..."

"It's alright... I think. What are you apologizing for?"

"I... don't know." He rubbed the back of his neck.

Just an hour before, he'd gotten an angered text from Maki telling him about how deflated you had looked when you realized that you were the only one that didn't know why he was absent. He went to try and talk to you, but he had no idea what to say.

Even hurt, you gazed at him the same.

You frowned and placed your hand on his forehead.

"What are you doing?"

"You were absent today. I want to make sure you're not walking around with a fever."

He indeed felt warm, but he progressively got warmer and warmer as if he were a heating pad.

"Come inside, you feel like a desert!" You took his hand and pulled him through the glass doors of the flower shop, not bothering to turn over the sign to say that it was open.

Toge stared at your hands, his eyes practically popping out of his head from how wide he opened them. A part of him wished he could say the romantic things he sees in books, describing the warmth and smoothness of a person's hand, but your hands were freezing cold and felt remarkably like sand paper. Still, he returned your grip.