I thought I knew everything about you.

That's what Shintarou truly thought, when he had learnt so much about Seijuurou since they've began dating. His secretive life that he never shared with anyone outside of his family; How his proper, dignified exterior was only a mask to meet and please the people around him; How he desired freedom; How he was, in actuality, a clumsy person. Things that nobody but Shintarou himself knows well about the redhead.

But there was one thing he didn't knew and realise at that accursed moment, and it was the fact that Seijuurou didn't love him anymore. Or to put it more accurately, the Seijuurou he loved wasn't there anymore.

When did we start drifting apart? Why couldn't I see it?

Shintarou knew that something terrifying lies dormant deep within his lover. He had noticed the monstrosity that it would bring forth should it ever awakens. However, It was all but too late when his fears manifested into reality. Shintarou slowly watched in terror as the redhead he once knew everything about, changed right before his eyes when he was about to suffer his loss for the very first time in his life, and Shintarou could not do anything to stop it.

Dual-coloured hues that were cold as ice replaced those familiar red hues, no longer looking at him with the tenderness that they once carried. No longer was Shintarou able to see them again.

Seijuurou Akashi, the man he loved, was believed to have ceased from existence that very moment.

You're a friend, starting today. I won't say I love you anymore.

Since that day, Seijuurou had completely changed. Shintarou remembered very clearly how their relationship was severed harshly by him, viewing that the relationship benefitted neither of them and were obstructing their paths to victory. The redhead's hues were unfaltering, his voice was unwavering and had shown absolutely no mercy when he told him the harsh truth.

Shintarou remembered how his fists tightened so hard that crescent marks was etched on to the palms of his hand. His glassy, emerald orbs clouded his vision with a blur as he felt tears forming around the corner of his eyes, threatening to leak any second, but he did his best not to let any of them fall.

I won't cry in front of you, so don't say that we'll never see each other again, please.

Those tears finally fell when Shintarou was in his secure confines of his bedroom, sliding down along the door while tiny droplets of tears create a trail of wetness along the way. His bangs may have hid his reddened eyes, but they were unable to hide the tears that had made their way down his face, dripping onto the cold, hard surface of the floor. The harsh truth hitting him hard in the face.

They were lovers no more.

He gritted his teeth, tears continued falling down in streams as his mind takes him back into the brief, happy moments of their past, and that did nothing to comfort him, but instead reminded him the reality that those days were simply in the past now. The relentless heartache throbbed from within his chest as Shintarou quietly let the rest of his tears pour out, hoping that it would, at least, ease some of the pain.

You're a friend, starting today. I will keep telling myself that.

Shintarou's stubborn, distant nature allowed him to conceal his feelings deep within as if he was a hard shell surrounded him, protecting his delicate, sensitive self from further harm. His heart may have been broken already, but he had never let any of this affected his performance in school. He never skipped any of his practices as he continued attending them diligently.

The others, meanwhile, had completely skipped practices altogether. Seijuurou had completely changed the aspect of their teamplay, going as far to sever their teamwork aspects that the previous Seijuurou had developed with their team. With nobody to rely to, Shintarou distanced himself even further than he did. The realisation was clear.

He could only depend on himself, and no one else.

That place that made you smile is somewhere we can't go anymore.

Victory used to bring smiles to their team, especially Seijuurou's. Victory used to feel so fulfilling to him when they won their first Nationals together in their first year of middle school. Now it had all but felt like it was something that was bestowed upon them. When was the last time victory felt so fulfilling? Shintarou wondered.

Their team reminded Shintarou nothing of the team in the past. There were no passes, no reliance towards each other. Not once any amount of teamwork was shown between them. He neither felt happy or fulfilled that they have achieved victory by mercilessly destroying their opponents under the commands of their captain. Not once had Seijuurou smiled when they had achieved eternal glory of victoriousness at the end of their middle school years.

Winning had become something that they ought to have. Something that should be bestowed upon them.

Walking past the cherry blossoms, I look up at the fireworks by the sea. When the dry leaves fell, on days of pure snow.

Their middle school years has finally ended. They have left their legacy by winning the Nationals three years in a row, completely obliterating their opponents with their inhumane talents. Their legacy was so great that they were dubbed as the Generation of Miracles, a title that Shintarou did not accept with pride, for it brings nothing but painful memories.

As Shintarou walked down the pavement nearby the cherry blossoms early Spring to his new school, a brief flashback brought him back to the past. An image of Seijuurou and himself appeared in the distance. He could distinctly see the redhead standing next to him with a genuine, soft smile graced on his lips, their hands intertwined together in peace.

As soon as Shintarou felt a swell of emotions threatening to burst forth from within his shell, he quickly shook his head and adjusted his spectacles in an attempt to clear his mind, before he moved on from that trail of cherry blossoms into his new life, leaving the cruel and bittersweet memories of his middle school days locked away in his past.

You were always there, I'll never forget that.

So don't say goodbye anymore, please.