to the girl who deserved so much better
"Why are you even crying?"
…
It wasn't that he didn't love her or that he didn't care. He never really stopped doing either of those things.
…
"Are you really asking me that?"
…
Tsukishima watched her from all the way across the street, from the window of a chic little coffee shop.
She was sitting alone in a booth with her back straight and her legs dangling closer to the edge of the seat. He suspected the cushioned backing would have smothered her if she leaned against it—hence, the rigid posture. She looked to be reading over what he presumed to be her notes. The mystery however was that she was sitting alone.
…
"Trust me; it's better this way."
…
Idly, he tapped the plastic cup in front of him, condensation clinging to the tips of his fingers. The ice on his coffee tipped over, submerging itself in the already diluted brew. It probably didn't taste like coffee anymore. He didn't care. He clicked his tongue and scowled.
Why was she alone?
…
"Trust you?"
…
Before he could knock the cup off the table with his increasingly aggressive tapping, he spotted Yamaguchi who waved at her through the glass before joining her inside.
She smiled warmly at him.
…
"That's really cruel, Tsukishima-kun."
…
He grabbed his coffee, downed it in one, and promptly left.
It wasn't that he didn't love her or that he didn't care. She just deserved so much better.