confessions | s. kiyoomi ✓

TWO

—

As I made my way home from school, my mind distracted with fitting into my new routine in Tokyo, I accidentally bumped with someone in the busy corridor. "I'm sorry for bumping into you," I said immediately, bowing out of habit.

With a sweep of his hand, the boy I had run into, waved away my apology and replied with a comforting grin. "Don't sweat it! There's no need to bow." Introducing himself kindly, "My name is Komori Motoya, and I'm a second-year student."

Grateful for his understanding, I introduced myself in return, mentioning my name and year. However, with a hurried excuse, I quickly bid him goodbye, eager to reach the comfort of home after a long day.

"Fujii Y/N, huh? I didn't expect her to be THAT pretty. Might as well tell Omi about this." He shook his head as he mustered a small grin.

-

koushi-on

koushi-on
y/nnnnnn
are you home yettttttt

ratatouille
mhm im home
wanna vc?

koushi-on
yay sure

you started a video chat (7:45 pm)
the video chat ended (4:36 am)

-

"So, how was your first day?"

"So far, so good. I guess. I made a new friend."

"I'm so glad I successfully raised you," he joked, pretending to sniffle.

— Y/N's POV

I wake up to the beautiful light seeping through my curtains and begin my morning routine: putting on my school uniform and eating a quick breakfast before heading out. With my headphones on, the tune of my favorite song plays while I walk to school, providing a reassuring backdrop to the world around me.

╔ ╗
sᴏғɪᴀ- cʟᴀɪʀᴏ
1:05 ───|────── 3:08
|◁ II ▷|
↠ ɴᴇxᴛ sᴏɴɢ ↺ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ ⊜ ᴘᴀᴜsᴇ
▁ ▂ ▃ ▄ ▅ ▆ █ 100 %
╚ ╝

Music has always been my safe haven, a hobby I cherish. Despite my passion for it, I've never been one to openly express my desire to sing. It's an aspect of myself I keep hidden, except for quiet periods alone or for the ears of one person: Koushi, my best friend.

With him, I can be vulnerable, sharing my innermost thoughts and feelings without feeling out of place.

But today, in the middle of my daily routine, my thoughts are consumed by the encounter from yesterday. Komori Motoya – his name lingers on my lips, stirring a sense of familiarity that I can't quite place.

"Who is this guy, seriously? How can I forget who he is so easily?"

Arriving at school early, I stepping inside the music room, and was surrounded by the familiar aroma of polished wood and the gentle glow of morning light streaming through the windows.