Disclaimer: I obviously do not own slamdunk, or else I wouldn't be writing this. It's just the way it is, and I accept it.
LETTERS
I thought I could never sleep. I thought anxiety would take over night and turn it to morning. And yet it came: a slow drift of drooping eyelids dragging me deep under, and shut.
The risen sun marked the beginning of a new chase: for a name.
He was standing there, waiting for me to come. But he didn't know who I was. He was holding what I was eyeing, but he didn't turn to face me. He walked as if he owned it, but it was never his to begin with.
It was only then did I realize that somebody else was following. "You never told me he was your type." A rush of playful tune trickled to the surface.
"Who?" I asked; unaware of a stream of suspicions brimming within their glistening eyes.
"Koshino. Duh." The name sank slowly against a wave of confusion. "Correct me if I'm wrong, which I can't be, but you were clearly staring at him." I was washed overboard with a flood of teasing. I was just about to come up for air when the bell rang and I was caught breathless.
I had to get back my notebook. But as I turned around the corner, my half-hearted resolution was drowned in reluctance. Koshino stood leaning against a wall, like a mermaid luring me to the rocks, his right hand holding my notebook open, his eyes moving across the page, suddenly stopping to look up.
"Is there something wrong?" He asked; yet that pretentious look of innocence lurking beneath those eyes was only pushing his luck. He knew that I knew that he knew something, and yet all we did was play the waiting game to see who would crack – first.
"Nothing." I replied. I would play by the rules: and wait. What was written on that page was blotched in ink, a smear of shame hidden under the palm of my hands. And I was afraid to show it.
But I'm not the only one who has secrets.