The first time I confessed to Sunakawa-kun was in the spring.
The school garden was full of freshly bloomed flowers swaying gently in the breeze. They grew waist high with long green leaves and blood red bulbs that captured the afternoon sunlight in such a way that they seemed to be glowing. I knew it was the perfect place. The gentle warm breeze seemed to give me courage, it pushed me towards him, and before I knew it my mouth was moving, words spilling. My hand clutched at my chest, a feeble attempt to control its racing.
Despite that, in my mind, perfect and romantic confession of love, Sunakawa didn't seem impressed.
He waved me off absentmindedly and muttered a quick apology. Nausea swirled unrestrained in my stomach. My head swam with half-formed regrets. My heart felt as if my blood had become tar as it struggled to keep a steady beat. I could never look at the blood red tulips with the same warm feelings again, and whenever I felt a spring breeze it seemed to chill me.
The second time, I confessed to Sunakawa-kun in the winter. This time my declaration was met with a lingering stare, but still, a rehearsed and dry rejection. In the weeks that followed I did not once look at him, in fear that my adoration would flare. I had smoldered it with meaningless dates with less then average boys, and karaoke nights with friends, who also claimed to be infatuated with him. However much I tried, the feelings I held for him burned deep in my soul, quietly like an amber but refusing to be suffocated. That amber had been growing ever since the first time I saw him.
It was the first day of Junior high. In that buzzing crowd of excited first years, he stood out. Calm and collected, he didn't bat an eye at the new journey ahead of us. I was usually polite enough to avoid gawking at random strangers, but this boy before me, radiating with nothing but grace, had me enthralled. He was mesmerizing in every way. The faint glimmer of the afternoon sun ghosted over his pale skin and eyes the color of acorns. And when those very eyes shifted and acknowledged my presence, a surge of something had twisted my stomach and mystified me. From the moment I first laid eyes on him, I knew he would never be mine.
How could he be, with my own less then average looks? With an awkwardly shaped body, much too round face, and mouse colored hair, I knew that I was reaching too high. Sunakawa was the most popular guy in school, it was rumored he was confessed to at least once a day. I knew that I didn't have a chance. But, it wasn't as if he didn't give me any hope.
The first time he spoke to me was on a spring morning. I was tending to the tulips, as it was my duty in the gardening club. I nursed them every school morning in those early day light hours, calmed by the birds songs and the pink streaked sky.
"They'll be beautiful."
His words were like vanilla pudding, sweet in that ordinary sort of way, and it was the richness of his voice – luxurious and warm – that made my heart race. He spoke to me then, quietly and much to short, about his mothers infatuation with her own flowers. I hadn't responded to him then, I was far to star struck that he would speak even one word to me, me. For weeks after, that meeting played in my thoughts like a song you couldn't rid your mind of. I found myself lost in fantasies of grandiose fashion. I would charm him in a way only an actress could, and he would sweep me off my feet, carrying me away during that pink skied hour. My silly school girl musings lasted for a while, until they were violently cooled by that fateful first dismissal.
It was in the winter he spoke to me again. That Monday was cold and gray, the air still, the cool evening sun hidden behind thick clouds. He had picked up my water bottle that I had unknowingly dropped behind me, and kindly returned it. A rush of panic surged through me as he walked past, and that glowing amber in my heart urged me to say something. "Where are you going?" It happened before I could stop myself. His head cocked to the side, eyes shifting from the icy ground to me. My heart jumped and my shaking breathe caught in my chest. All I could manage was a weak, "Just wondering." before my heart completely stopped.
"Home, I guess." It was a simple reply, but enough to send a shiver down my spine. To nervous to go on with that painfully awkward conversation, I had spun around, muttering a weak excuse about forgetting something back in the classroom. As I walked away in defeat I did not hear his footsteps leaving, crunching in the snow as mine were.
"Hey-" A quick yell came, causing me to freeze and turn too quickly, almost loosing my balance. "Are you growing tulips again this spring?"
Our conversation was, again, much too short. I knew it was due to my own nervousness though, as my words seemed to freeze completely in that cold winter air. They formed in my mind perfectly afterwords, as I constantly thought and re-thought our simple conversation. It was three days later I once again declared my adoration, and was once again dismissed.
I knew that this third time would be different however. It had to be. As I stood, un-moving in that dusty music room, I rehearsed what I would say, over and over again. My thoughts were like a broken record, repeating, repeating. I focused an intent stare at the covered piano, willing my heart to stop racing, and my legs to stop shaking. It didn't do much help though, for as soon as he entered the room my mouth filled with saw dust and my legs turned to lead.
"Sunakawa-kun!" I yelled, much too forcibly, and much too soon, "Please go out with me!" I found myself bowing then, partly in shame, mostly in embarrassment. He had not even closed the door when I had my outburst, and was now staring wide eyed at me. I had not said what I planned too, not even close. I had prepared a beautiful confession, full of flowery words and sweet nothings. I read it every day, but in my state of panic, ignored every single word. Knowing that his reaction would not be the one I so earnestly wished for, I raised my head slowly, pitifully.
"Sorry but, I'm not interested."
It was inevitable, but that did not stop my heart from breaking. I found myself then staring at the piano, willing my eyes to dry. My heart had stopped beating again, and I wondered just how much abuse it could take. How much longer would I put myself through this torture? I watched him leave, ignoring the adrenaline surging in my veins to chase after him and grab his sleeve. I stood fixed in that spot, but watched his back as the exited that dusty music room.
But, when he turned to close the door and caught sight of his face, liquid fire rushed through my veins. He was smiling. It was not a boisterous smile, but one of simplicity and grace. A gentleness lit his features, and for just a moment our eyes met.
That amber had been set a-flame again by that smile. It raged, roaring in the deep pits of my heart. I knew that this was not the end, and I had a feeling he knew that too.