Disclaimer: I do not own Yowamushi Pedal or any of its characters. Also, this is an AU. Please do not be upset if the characters are not exactly like those in the show/manga as I took my own liberties

Chapter 1

I remember the first time I saw that hair. That strange, iridescent hair that catches the light when it moves in that indescribable way that it does when he walks. I remember it like it was yesterday.

It was halfway through junior year when he transferred into my class. Yuusuke Makishima. Strangely slender and pale, with that hair he quickly became famous for. I remember when the teacher introduced him and he just stood there uncomfortably until she dismissed him to his seat, and when he reached it, he sat there uncomfortably until class ended. I remember because he sat directly in front of me.

I didn't think we could be friends. His hair, although shorter then than it is now, was too long, and the color too strange; it made his whole appearance off-putting. In addition, he never smiled. Not once in the first two months I spent knowing him did I ever see him smile. People who refuse to smile are no fun to be around, and I, Jinpachi Toudou, refused to have my fun taken from me.

It wasn't until after those first two months that I spoke to him, when the teacher put us in pairs for math.

"Nice to meet you," he said in a voice smoother than I'd expected. "My name is Yuusuke Makishima." Hand extended. I shook it curtly.

"Jinpachi Toudou. Nice to meet you, Makishima." I'd flashed my most winning smile, and he had only diverted his attention to the work.

I don't know when my disdain turned to fondness. All I know is that it did. At some point I realized that I'd started considering Makishima before making any decision. Before I made plans- would he be able to go? Would he want to go? Before I mentioned any specific topic- would he be interested in talking about it? Uncomfortable? It's not safe to let one person become so important, but I let it happen anyway. I didn't care.

I didn't care that Makishima was on my mind so much because, at about the same time I realized that he was, I also realized that I loved him.

I'd dated girls before, and I'd liked them plenty, but it wasn't the same. I'd cared about them, of course, but I hadn't spent all of my time caring about them. They were all nice and sweet and pretty in their own ways. I liked them. But liking them was nothing like loving Makishima.

He, too, is nice and sweet and pretty in his own way. He has a way of speaking that makes you feel at ease, a gentle tone at the very bottom of his voice that would make the worst news seem tolerable. He has a way of walking that slows down to catch up with you, and he flows across the floor like he isn't even taking steps; if you didn't look at his feet, you might not know he was, because he never makes a sound. He's taller than me, but I hardly notice because he doesn't act like it matters like every other guy does. And his smile.

When he smiles, I can feel it in my chest, and I know it sounds cliche and untrue and stupid, but it's true. He doesn't smile big, only curving up the edges of his mouth slightly and lightly crinkling the corners of his eyes, but his smile is warmer than every smile I've ever made put together. When he smiles, his lip pulls the little mole near it up closer to his mouth, which in turn pulls my heartstrings, as if there's some invisible thread connecting them. When he smiles, I have to smile back, because it's like he's given me an irreplaceable gift. I cherish every one, and since I'm greedy, I'm always trying to get more.

I'm watching his hair and thinking about his smiles as we walk together now. His hair's gotten long, down past the middle of his back, and the way it bounces and sways with each step is mesmerizing. We're on our way to the bookstore after school. Some novel came out that he's dying to read, and he asked me to come along. Of course I couldn't say no, not when he was so happy and not when I might get to see that smile.

"Toudou," he calls, and I realize I've fallen several feet behind him. He walks back to me and resumes his pace. "We're almost to the store, so could you just please pretend you're interested for a little longer?"

"I am interested!" I assure him, but he looks unconvinced.

"I have seen the face of someone who's interested before, and yours is not it."

"I'm just a little distracted, that's all. There's a lot on my mind lately."

"What could possibly be on your mind that is more important than this book I'm going to buy?" he gasps incredulously. "I am offended, Toudou. I thought we were friends." He clutches his heart dramatically, and I have to groan to stifle an impending chuckle. He doesn't know that he's the distraction.

"We're here," he announces excitedly as he pushes open the door and the air conditioning rushes out to meet us. I follow closely behind as he nearly sprints to the back and starts combing the shelves carefully with his deep blue eyes. His foot taps the ground rapidly, impatiently, and his thin fingertips glide over the spines of the books, just barely touching each one at the same time his eyes reach it. If I knew what the book was called, I'd help, but I don't, so instead I just stand and watch him dumbly and listen to the rumble of traffic outside the shop over the too-quiet music coming through the speakers.

All of a sudden his foot stops and his fingers come to rest on the spine of a book on the shelf second from the top. As he pulls it gently from the row of identical spines beside it, his lips curl in that familiar way and my heart skips to keep up. He rubs his thumb over the cover like it's the most precious and beautiful thing he's ever seen, and at that moment I want to tell him how much I love him, but I don't because we're in public and I'm scared. I promise I'll tell him, I tell myself as he turns to walk to the register. Just not now.

I follow him as he goes to buy it from the girl behind the counter who's cute and quiet and probably just his type. I'm jealous when he still smiles while he talks to her, even though it's just because of the book, because there's a small chance it might not be.

"What book is it?" I ask as we leave the store and step back into the June heat. He gives me a quizzical look.

"Why do you care?"

Because I love you. "Maybe I want to read it."

"You hate reading."

"That's not true!" It is definitely true.

"Really?" He looks unconvinced. "Since when?"

"Oh, you know. Always."

"Ah, I see. So if you have such a great love for reading, why have I never seen you reading a book?"

"That's because I sit behind you, obviously."

"Never heard a page turn?"

"Probably all that hair," I say. "Blocking your ears and all."

"Why are all the books on the shelves at your house dusty, then? As if they've, I don't know, never been touched?" I see his eyes twinkle, and I know he knows he's got me there.

"Because I usually... Go to the library...?"

"Do you even know where the library is?" Got me again. I sigh.

"Why can't you just tell me the name of the book?" He notices that I've changed the subject, but he doesn't mention it, and I love that about him too. He sighs, but I can tell he's not really upset.

"Look, I'll just let you borrow it after I finish. But you better not dare return it without reading it."

"I would never!" I might.

One corner of his mouth tilts up. "I won't forgive you if you're lying, you know. Really." I nod. We walk in silence for a while until we pass the post office, where dozens of boys around our age are lining up to get in. We don't say anything because we don't want to think about why they're there: the draft.

About a month ago, some guerilla soldiers opened fire on an embassy building in one of the countries we frequently trade with. At first they tried to send in politicians to patch it up with the locals, but it turned out to be more than they could handle. Their leader, KG Waren, had a lot more power and troops than the government anticipated. He refused to make any negotiations, and just kept sending troops in to raid the embassy. While the government was trying to evacuate the building and get everyone home, they launched an extreme attack and captured seven diplomats whom they then transported to a secret base deep in the country, a base which still has yet to be located. This escalated us directly into an all-out war. To ensure the crisis is not underestimated, all males have to sign up for the draft. Makishima turns 18 in a month. I turn 18 in two. Soon, we will be those boys at the post office.

"That'll be us soon," he says quietly, as if reading my mind, when we get far enough past the post office. I nod.

"We'll sign up at the same time right?" I ask. "If you just wait a few days after your birthday, it'll be thirty days before mine, so we can go at the same time."

"Of course," he says. "Better make sure you're not too busy reading, though. You might forget to go." I glance over to see a thin smirk.

"I'm not worried," I grin. "I've got you to remind me."

"Yes, what would you do without me?" I laugh, but only to mask the fact that I really don't know.

I don't know what I'd be doing now if I hadn't met Makishima. I don't know what I'd do if he suddenly left. I don't know what I'd do if we went to war and lost him but not me. There's only one thing I do know.

I have to tell him I love him. And I have to tell him before we get shipped to the battlefield. Otherwise I may not get the chance.

~author's note~

Yooooo thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed and I hope it isn't too cliche or dumb. I got the idea for this story so I really wanted to write it. Please do not be an anus about it. I am neither a professional, semiprofessional, micro professional, or even a teensy bit professional writer. Thank you.