MC absentmindedly beat his pencil's eraser against his notebook, his mind searching for something worthy of transcribing onto the pages. Unfortunately, just as it had for the past thirty minutes, no progress was made. He glanced around at the living room, at the blank television screen, at the half-eaten pizza box on the coffee table, at his own plate, which still held a single slice, and finally, at Yuri. When his eyes fell upon her, he couldn't help but smile. She did not meet his gaze, but only because she was far too busy writing on a sheet of paper to notice she was being watched. Though he couldn't quite decipher what she was writing from his position, he instinctively knew that it was perfect. Why? Because, despite the fact that she stumbled through conversations like a blind, homeless gadfly, she proved an excellent wordsmith by all accounts. Yuri could never write a bad poem, not even if she tried.

He loved that about her.

He loved her.

He fixated his gaze toward his backpack, and he swallowed.

But did she love him? She had to have liked him, given how she had opened up to him, how the two read together, and how she took him under her wing as an informal poetry apprentice of sorts. A budding friendship, however, was far different from love. She would distance herself from him if the feelings were reciprocated, not out of hate, for Yuri couldn't find it in her heart to hate, but out of her own shame for disappointing him.

MC didn't want to ruin his friendship with Yuri, so instead of reaching into his backpack, he reached for another slice.

"How do you do it?"

Yuri glanced up from her work. She had been so lost in her work that she hadn't even finished her first slice. "Huh? Do what, exactly?"

"Write so much on the spot," MC answered, taking a bite out of his pizza slice. It was still hot and fresh, much to his delight. Swallowing, he continued. "It's like you just know everything that you want to tell the world at a moment's notice. You don't have to think about what you want to say; you just say it."

Yuri glanced down at her paper. Unbeknownst to MC, none of these poems were ones she wanted him to see. They were love poems, poems that described him in intimate detail, in fact. They weren't that good, in her opinion, but she did see that he had a point. Even if Yuri stammered and tripped over every other sentence that she tried to say, when her pen crossed paper, she was as eloquent as a senior diplomat.

How did she do it? There was an obvious answer, of course: she read. She read a lot. Dad wrote well, too, and he always credited his talents to the countless hours expended reading books. Yuri had no reason to believe her case was different.

But there was an explanation for her talents. There wasn't one for Mom's, or MC's. MC was not a bad public speaker: he was nice, a good listener, he could look anyone in the eye, and his smile, his beautiful smile, always seemed genuine. Yuri grinned with delight.

"Uh, Yuri, are you there?" MC inquired. When he didn't get an answer, he glanced down at the notebook. "Hey, can I read these?"

Yuri felt him tug on her notebook. With no time to think rationally, she jerked it back. Perhaps she jerked a little too hard, as MC fell right onto her chest with a surprised shout. It took him a moment to reorient himself, and when he did, all he could do was smirk nervously. His cheeks were red, but why wouldn't they be? After all, he had landed on a pair of soft, large, er, pillows.

"S-sorry, Yuri. I guess I should have waited for your reply before just taking it away from you."

Yuri breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't see what she had written! Great!

Then it occurred to her just where he landed, and her face reddened by about 12 shades. "You're fine! Good, I mean! I meant good!"

There was an intensity in her voice that caused MC to scramble off of her in no time at all. Even Yuri, for all her failings regarding social detection, was able to tell that he was just as embarrassed. Nevertheless, he tried to smile and laugh it off.

How did he manage it? By that, how did he manage to laugh off such embarrassment, pick himself up, and go on without drowning in a sea of anxiety? Yuri tried to say something in an effort to get their conversation back on track, but she only trembled.

"Are you alright, Yuri?" MC questioned after a few moments of silence.

"Y-y-yes, uh, I believe so?"

"If that made you uncomfortable, I understand."

It really didn't, at least not from Yuri's end. If anything, their closeness filled Yuri with a most comforting warmth. Closing her notebook, she finally found the courage to look him in the eyes.

"It's fine. Accidents happen. I just"- she frowned, trailing off- "I'm saving those poems for something important. They're very personal, and very meaningful to me. I hope you don't mind!"

MC only shrugged. "Not at all. Anyways, where were we, again?"

Yuri plucked a pen off the table and gestured toward MC's notebook. "Trying to write our stories, remember? I don't mean anything, er, hostile by this, but you seem to be having a considerable amount of trouble."

MC was not offended. Yuri was so soft and gentle that, had she tried to offend him on purpose, he probably still would not be offended. "You're right. It's that unique twist, Yuri. This can't be a generic star-crossed lovers' story, it needs something unique."

Yuri only giggled. His resolve was strong, if perhaps a touch stubborn. "Well, it doesn't have to be perfect, MC. After all, this is just a club activity. Monika isn't looking for Shakespearean originality, surely."

MC took another bite of pizza. "I'm not looking solely for Monika's approval," he assured with a grunt. "Nor am I looking for Sayori's or Natsuki's."

Yuri hesitated, shooting awkward glances around the room. "I'm sorry. I don't think I understand."

"Oh, I hope they like it," MC added with a smile and nod. "But it's not being made just so they like it. I'm doing it for me, so I can tell, for the first time in my life, a half-original story to the world."

The statement was, by all accounts, truthful. However, what Yuri did not know was that there was an ulterior reason for his story. It was for her, because if it was the kind of story that could impress even Yuri, then MC was certainly on the right track. He only hoped he wouldn't end up writing something stupid.

"If only I could overcome this writer's block," MC groaned, more to himself than to Yuri. "It feels like it's been with me all night."

Yuri set down her notebook, and, in a moment that surprised even herself, she looked MC straight in the eye. Within this beautiful amber-colored spheres lied frustration, so Yuri tried her best to express warmth in her own gaze. MC's lips soon curled into a smile, so she guessed that it had worked.

"M-MC, I have faith that will make something remarkable. Don't let your writer's block get you down, OK?"

MC nodded. "Thank you, Yuri. You're a good friend, you know? The angels in this story couldn't match your kindness."

Try though she did, she could not stop the blush. "I-, er, I-"

MC only chuckled nervously as his own realization set in. He instinctively avert her gaze, instead opting to stare at his feet while scratching the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. That was awkward."

"N-no," Yuri assured, a genuine smile returning to her. "I appreciate it. I don't have many friends outside of the club, you know. In fact, I don't even know if Natsuki considers me a friend at all. I think a lot of people are scared of me, if that makes any sense. I hear the rumors my classmates spread behind my back, and, well, it just means a lot to me to know that not everyone thinks so lowly of me."

"I've never thought lowly of you, Yuri. You've been my friend since day one, you've shared you innermost thoughts with me every day. Heck, you've been a wonderful host tonight. The people spreading rumors probably wish they could be half as talented as you.

Yuri's heart was sent aflutter. She wondered, very briefly, why his words worked so well to comfort her in comparison to those spoken by her parents. She ultimately decided that it didn't matter; she knew he meant everything he said.

Suddenly, excitedly, she rose from the couch. "Why don't we take a break from all this writing? D-do something a little different? I haven't even given you a tour of my room, yet. W-we could certainly do that, if you'd like."

MC raised an eyebrow. "Sure? Are you alright, Yuri? That was awful sudden of you."

"Yes!" Yuri exclaimed, her indoor voice but a distant memory. Then, she cleared her throat, inhaled deeply, and managed to temper her excitement. "I mean, yes. I got a little excited- that's all."

She wondered if he was judging her, if he perhaps was beginning to think those same negative thoughts that she knew others did. However, when the bewilderment left his eyes, replaced once more with a glimmer of his own enthusiasm, Yuri's doubts melted like snow in the spring.

"I'd love to see your room," MC replied, rising to meet her.

"G-great," Yuri stammered. "Follow me."

She turned and marched toward the stairs, her movements rigid and controlled. They had to be, lest she burst from raw excitement. Her heart pounded, her eyes darted from one way to the next, and she almost had the courage to turn around and kiss him right then and there.

She swallowed. Almost. As much as she wanted to, she hadn't found the will to tell him how she felt. Maybe if they just talked, things would develop naturally.

One thing was for certain, however: Yuri was actually craving the social interaction, so long as it was with MC and MC alone. She jokingly wondered if her crush on MC had driven her mad, but then she shook her head. If love was madness, then Yuri didn't mind in the slightest.

MC began to follow her, but stopped momentarily. He turned his attention to his backpack, remembering what he had stored inside. Then, quietly, carefully, he snatched it up and followed Yuri up the stairs.

All the way up, a single thought pulsated through his brain:

I gotta make my move.