This is being written as an entry for a contest~

I've not written fanfiction for a while, let alone anything romantic, so this'll be interesting to write XD

Hope you enjoy...

"…It's been a while." Tooru Kouno broke the silence between them first.

All he got for it in return was a small nod and the "clink" of a cup being lifted away from a saucer; it had stayed stationary ever since the unusual meeting began up until then.

It was only a week since they last spoke to each other, but it had been years before that. Tooru naturally expected it to be odd at best, but the nature of his accompanier did nothing to change that. Yet still for some reason, he couldn't help but smile at least a little.

There were glimpses here and there that Mikoto wasn't too different from how he recalled him. That wasn't to say he was completely unchanged, inevitably the both of them had parted ways and were travelling different roads in life, and it showed. But Mikoto's anxious habits appeared to have remained. Tooru observed him as he peered around nervously at the other rather stylish customers in the contemporary café.

With his gaze still fixated on other strangers and what they might be thinking, the pink-haired man across from Tooru finally murmured a verbal response.

"It sure has." It was the simple truth – it had been a long time since they'd since each other in person.

Determined to continue the slither of conversation, Tooru spoke up once again. "But eight years have flown by; it doesn't feel like too long, right?" Eight years was certainly long enough, and the fact that he could even say that proved further still that perceptions had been altered since high school.

There were times back then when they used to see each other on a near-daily basis, and somehow the time had gradually gotten less, they drifted apart. Gone were the times when meeting regularly was crucial to everything. Relationships weren't all or nothing anymore. They were both 26. Both reaching a point where there was too much in life to juggle around, priorities had to be made. Old friends knew each other well enough to be put aside for a while, to meet again in a few years and still feel like it was only yesterday since they last spoke.

At least this is what Tooru had hoped. He wasn't one to abandon friends, and he truly felt as though they knew each other well enough for it not to be a problem. He gazed into his cup of coffee, taking a sip, in thought, still wanting to talk but having nowhere else to begin. It may have felt like yesterday to him, but too much had happened.

Mikoto lifted his face up, looking towards him from across the table with a less nervous expression.

"I wouldn't say that Kouno-san."

San?

He nearly choked on his coffee, a good quarter of it spilling over onto his pastel green shirt, some of it ending up on the table. He'd never heard Mikoto use that honorific before, so why suddenly now?

Mikoto leapt out of his seat in a flurry of panic, noting that other customers might have seen the accident. Little did he realise that, as with everything, him causing a fuss made it a self-fulfilling prophecy, and only drew even more attention to their table.

"A-ahh! I-I'm sorry. A-are you alright?" He yelled, trying to be as sincere as possible.

The man sat opposite did barely anything to convince him he was fine. Not saying a word, Tooru simply placed his drink back down on the table and gave a slight laugh under his breath as he stared down at his own shirt.

Worried he'd made him angry; Mikoto mistook his actions for annoyance and was quickly silenced.

"How can you say that? You haven't changed a bit." Tooru gave him a flash of a smile. It was a lot different from the "princess smile" he'd give out to just about anyone all those years ago. It was older, refrained and subtle. But there was another thing different about it…

Mikoto sat down, confused but somehow reassured. The relaxed buzz of the café returned.

"Excuse me, I'll be right back." There was only a blur of blue and green passing to indicate him leaving the table.

Mikoto knew too well that a lot had changed. How could Kouno not see it? They're appearances alone were indication enough; let alone their attitudes and postures. It was plainly obvious to him. So how could he say eight years didn't change much? He couldn't fathom it out. What he did know is that smile – the smile he had tried to imitate countless times in the past – was not the same. Was Tooru happier back then? Was his smile just now a fake one, or could it be the opposite – were his smiles back then artificial all along?

He leant his head in his hand as he watched the spill on the table develop into its own micro-puddle. Questions didn't matter; it was none of his business. He'd asked Kouno to meet him for a reason. He gently lifted his smallest finger across his lips, eventually nibbling his nail as a nervous reminder. He couldn't forget his purpose here.

It wasn't long before Tooru returned with a pile of napkins, seemingly having cleaned up his own shirt whilst he was away, and began to mop up the rest of the spill effortlessly.

Mikoto quickly tore his hand away from his face, anxiously clearing his throat to get the attention back to the purpose at hand. As soon as those soft blue eyes met his, he made a stuttered remark, twisting himself around to grab the briefcase up from the floor that he had brought with him.

"A-Ahh, umm…I have something for you, h-hold on a sec."

He carefully rummaged through many tattered papers, the briefcase itself looking equally as worn out, until he found what he was looking for.

Tooru watched carefully, his eyes fixed on what was going on at the opposite side if the table, whilst easily finishing mopping up the spill and placing the soaked napkins aside, without even thinking.

He continued observing, wondering what on earth Mikoto could have for him, when he saw it.

A pale pink A4-sized envelope slithered out of the briefcase and was handed to him.

Taken slightly aback, Tooru peered at it. On further inspection, he noticed the gold-leafed border of the envelope, his own name carefully handwritten, large and in the centre. There was no doubt that this letter was meant for him.

But why the fancy stationery? Why was it pink, gold and elaborately crafted?

His mind became completely blank in bewilderment. Why on earth, after such time-length, would he now receive such an intricate-looking letter? The only option he could think of was…a belated love letter perhaps?

His eyebrows burrowed in nervousness and confusion, not wanting to hurt Mikoto's feelings if this was the case. But even if that was so, there were too many awkward questions to be asked.

"Uhh…Mikoto?"