A/N: And this is what you get when you listen to Linkin Park's "Valentine's Day" over and over again.

In reply to Celaj15: Yes, I haven't forgotten. :) I was planning to have it up this week, but I wrote this one a long time ago and was planning to post it today. Also, I guess this could be taken as a confession chapter from Takeru, but that depends on the reader.

Prompt: "Valentine's Day"

Word count: 396

Cinnamon eyes wandered, unfocused, around the schoolyard. His day could not get any worse. Or at least he was pretty sure it couldn't, but considering his luck, there was always a chance. A puff of air escaped his lips as he recalled all of the things that made his mood darken.

First of all, he hated this damned holiday. It was stupid, really. Just a silly day that someone slapped on the calendar because they were bored and felt like making half the world miserable. If you had a special someone to share it with, that was great. If you didn't, then you ended up like him: alone and angry. Whoever created the big February 14th should've been arrested.

Second, the girl of his dreams didn't so much as bat an eyelash at him. She'd talked to him like she usually did, carried a normal conversation with him, treated him like she did any other of her friends. Because that's all he'd ever be to her. A friend.

Third, all of his classmates were excitedly babbling their heads off about the dance this weekend, which he wasn't going to. Correction: he didn't have anyone to go with, and going to a dance that congratulated and created couples alone wasn't really at the top of his to-do list.

Anger sparked up in him as he felt tears build up in his eyes. It was pathetic, wanting to cry over something as stupid as a holiday. A holiday he'd spent fifteen years ignoring, pretending it was just another normal day. He blinked several times to clear the tears, but it didn't soothe the loneliness in his heart.

Damn this freaking holiday.

Something was thrown at him. He jumped and quickly wiped his face, hating the fact that someone had caught him—Motomiya Daisuke—on the staircase in front of the school, alone and crying. Daisuke never cried. No, that was for girls. Right? Or at least that's what his sister had told him.

He fixed a bloodshot glare on the person in front of him, opening his mouth to tell them off, but then blue eyes, timid and unsure, met his, and when he looked down at his lap, he realized what the owner of those eyes had thrown at him: a box of chocolates.

"Happy Valentine's Day," the person mumbled.

Before he could reply, Takeru walked away.