He had stared at the paper. The paper stared right back. Three-twenty-six in the afternoon, thirty-four more minutes till I can stop thinking about this, he thought. After five days, there's now only thirty-four more minutes.

Thirty-four more minutes to this hell being over.

It didn't matter that his best friends had worked for his interest (his, and the whole school's, but details do not matter in times like these), day and night, for a whole week, for a cause that they themselves, were clearly not fit for. But it didn't matter to them for they did it for him, and they knew that he would want it in the end.

It didn't matter that his father had called him fucking crazy for throwing away something that he had been continually working for, for the past two years. That he slapped me for the first time in both our lives, and that we both ignored the fact that it stung, and walked away. It didn't matter to him either, he knew he was doing it for the good of his son.

It didn't matter, because he had decided. He had decided, and this would be it.

Because the thought of him doing it without her sent him into fits of coldness. It made his thoughts run simultaneously blank and rapid-fire at the exact same time. It made him want to throw up because of the anxiety. It made him want to cry tears unsuited for a man of seventeen, because he would (yet again, for the umpteenth time) remember that all he did for the past two years, was for the sake of her.

And she was leaving.

And it would be like walking in a labyrinth at the stroke of midnight, without a flashlight.

Like walking on the tightrope for the first time, without a safety net to catch him if he fell.

Like not being able to take the first step of a long marathon.

And it was that cowardliness, that pure, sheer fear which made him made him realize the worst thing of all: He was not worthy. Not of the job, not of her, not of anything else.

Reaching over the desk, Kitamura grabbed the paper. He resisted the urge to crumple it into a ball, toss it away like it didn't matter. It did. It did matter, but that was the point itself. It did matter, but not anymore. He put it away.

It didn't matter that he died his hair blond and back.

It didn't matter that he might regret this for the rest of his life.

It didn't matter that he would be letting her down.

It didn't matter, because Kanō Sumire wasn't going to be here, and he wasn't going to do it without her.

And then he came in.

And she walked by.

And I had no idea how to face him. Or her. No idea how to talk to him. Or her.

But now I do.

"My application for student council president, sensei."

Four in the afternoon, on the dot.

I made it.

–

A/N:
Apologies for the late update, my 'update' from last week turned into a one-shot (Rum and Raisin! Go read! Heh). Hope this one makes sense this time, aha. And thank you for all the reviews! Twenty-five of them, I'm well and truly flattered and happy. Every single one makes me more keen to write the next, fast! Thanks again, and more comments, criticism and suggestions are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

This update was facilitated by ArmorBlade who suggested a Kitamura-based one!