Author's Note: I wanted to practice writing Hayama, so I thought I'd do a little piece on why his type of girl is written specifically as 'one who isn't two-faced'. It's a bit different, but I hope you like it!
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Hayama Kotarou wasn't a greedy man. He didn't care if a girl was overweight or extremely skinny. He didn't care about the size of their breasts or hips or stomach. He didn't care if they wore pretty dresses or scuffed up jeans, glasses or braces, short hair or long.

He only wanted two things in a girlfriend.

One: that she had a kind, sweet smile that she would always show to him and,

Two: that she not be two-faced.

Because Hayama Kotarou hated two-faced girls above all.

—

His first love was in middle school. She was beautiful and sweet, with a warm smile that could make even the coldest heart melt.

She was kind, and always patient. When Hayama spoke to her, she would give him that stunning smile as she listened to him speak unwearyingly. She was smart too, and often had to regretfully refuse Hayama's offers to spend time together after school as she had too much studying to do.

Hayama had liked her since he saw her on the first day of his third year of middle school, when she'd transferred into their school. And at the end of the year, when he was positive he was madly in love with her, he waited for her after school had ended, at a nearby park (where he also acquired some lovely flowers).

He leaned up against a tree, waiting for her eagerly, going over the words he was going to say over and over again in his head. When he heard her voice, chattering animatedly among her friends, he was excited…and then, as she came closer, his face fell, as he realised there was something off about her voice.

The sweet, gentle melody of her voice had turned irate and mocking, and Hayama hid behind the tree to stay out of sight as she and her friends approached, his stomach churning as an odd heaviness settled itself over his chest.

"Ugh, he's such a spaz. And so annoying too! Every time I see that blonde head I try and run, but he's so fast." She groans, rolling her eyes.

"He likes you a lot though. Aaaaand Hayama isn't bad looking either." Her friend replies teasingly.

"Maybe if he could just stop talking and stand there looking good." Hayama's love snorts, throwing her hair back over her shoulder.

"Are you interested in anyone?" Her other friend asks, laughing.

"As if." She's almost growling. "Every boy at this stupid school is worthless. I can't believe my dad had to lose his job right before I was at least out of middle school. At least the idiots in our school were wealthy. And our basketball players were actually famous, not like the no-name ruminants here."

Her friends laugh, nudging her playfully.

"Face of an angel, tongue of a demon." The friend on her left shakes her head with a grin. "We really miss you."

"Not as much as I miss you." She sighs.

As they leave the park, and their voices drift away on the wind, Hayama's face is dark. He clutches the flowers in his hand so hard he leaves deep red crescent marks in the palm of his hand.

He takes a deep breath, and then tears the flowers to shreds.

—

He met you in his third year of high school. You were cute, sweet, and had a smile that always made him want to smile with you.

Being with you made his heart beat fast, like when he played basketball. It made him feel just as happy and appreciated too.

But he couldn't confess to you. He wanted to, so, so badly, but every time he thought about it, he heard his first love's mocking voice in his head.

"…so annoying…"

What if you were like her?

Even though you always went out of your way to find him, to talk to him. Even though you made him bentos, trying to hide how you yawned and rubbed your eyes, which betrayed how early you'd had to get up to make them for him. Even though you texted him whenever you had to refuse an outing with him so you could study. Even though often times you invited him over so you could study together (although sometimes you had to gently remind him that the two of you were here to study, not talk about basketball).

Even though you had been the one to first try and hold his hand, when the two of you were walking among the busy streets and he'd warned you not to get lost. You could have grabbed his bag, his shirt, his arm…but instead, you took a deep breath and grabbed his hand.

It was warm. It felt nice. It made Hayama want to pull you by the hand and kiss you right in the middle of that busy street, people behind be damned.

But there was always that small doubt.

He knew it was wrong, but he needed to get rid of that doubt.

Because he needed you, and he needed to know he could trust you.

—

"Oh…basketball practice is running late, so Hayama-kun is going to be a while longer…" You sigh, running a hand through your hair anxiously as you sit down at the café table. Hayama had asked you to meet him here after club activities ended…he had sounded nervous, so you were a bit worried.

"Well, we'll keep you company till he gets here." Your friend says encouragingly, patting your shoulder as she takes a seat beside you. "They can't keep him much longer, right? I mean, the sun's gonna be setting soon…"

"Their practices are pretty brutal." Your other friend, sitting across from you, says, picking up the menu from the table and looking it over. "We should probably order something…right?"

She looks at you, and you give a half-hearted nod. It's impossible to hide how disappointed you are not to see Hayama.

Your friends give each other a look, but stay quiet. They order a small piece of cake to share, and encourage you to eat some. You take a bite, and the sweet, creamy taste does cheer you up a little. You're about to take another bite when your friend opposite you suddenly coughs, and when you look up you see she's looking at you seriously.

"So…you've been spending a lot of time with Hayama, right?" She asks carefully, playing with her small fork.

"Hmm? Oh…I guess so." You say, blinking in surprise. Honestly, you think you spend much too little time with him as is. No matter how long you're with him, it never seems to be enough.

"Well, isn't he kind of…you know…" She watches you cautiously, gauging your reaction. You tilt your head in confusion, and she sighs before continuing.

"Isn't he kind of annoying? I mean, he's nice and all." She adds quickly, immediately noting the upset change in your expression. "But…he talks a lot, right? Doesn't that wear thin after a while?"

Your other friend says nothing, but watches the two of you in obvious interest. You don't hesitate, and quickly shake your head.

"No, not at all!" You say honestly. "He does talk a lot, but I'm glad! When we first met, and I was so nervous about saying something stupid I couldn't say anything at all, he filled up the silence so I didn't feel awkward. And he asked me a lot of questions about myself too, and I could tell he really wanted to know the answers."

Your friend looks guilty, and opens her mouth to apologise, but you continue.

"And if I ask him to stay quiet for a little while, he never gets mad. Other guys get upset if they think you're criticizing them at all, but Hayama-kun just smiles and says 'Ok!'. And whenever I'm sad and I'm too scared to talk about it, he just asks me about it right away!" You feel your cheeks flush slightly as you think about Hayama, and you smile brightly. "He's got his flaws but…Hayama-kun is a great person! I'm lucky to know him."

Your friends stare at you in surprise for a few long moments, before something else catches their attention. Their mouths drop open, eyes wide with shock, and when you turn to follow their gaze, your expression follows suit.

"H—H—Hayama-kun?!' You cry out, seeing the tall blond haired teen standing beside your table, hands fisted at his sides as he looks down at you determinedly.

Your mouth gapes open and shut like a fish, but you can't think of anything to say. It's unnecessary, however, as Hayama once again fills the silence, saving you from having to do so.

"Be–Be my girlfriend!"

—

You lose count of how many times Hayama had apologised for eavesdropping on your conversation. To you, to your friends, to you again…well, at least he knew it had been pretty inappropriate. But once he told you why he did it, you couldn't bring yourself to stay mad at him.

Although he'd told you the story in an airy, light manner, even laughing and talking about what a sucker he was back then, you could tell that Hayama had been deeply, deeply hurt, and the horrible pain inflicted on him was what drove his actions now.

Besides…

You smile happily as he holds your hand tightly, occasionally stopping on his journey of walking you home to lean down and press his warm, soft lips firmly against yours.

…you got the best happy ending you could ever ask for