Authors Note: Sorry for the delay with this chapter! After looking over my outline for this story and reworking some things, I decided to toss out the initial idea I had for this chapter in favor of something else. Hopefully it was worth it. I hope you enjoy!

...

The dim light of my desklamp reflected across the walls of my room, the only real source of light coming in except for the streetlamps outside. The doors leading out to the hallway and my bathroom were shut and I was, once again, the only person in the house. On my desk, a few bottles of Ramune soda sat empty, my bag dangling open on my chair, hanging by a strap.

I was laying down on my twin-size bed, head up against the wall. A thin yellowpad and ballpoint pen laid in my lap. The page I had open was scrawled with several bulletpoints and various doodles, the corner of the papers slightly dogeared from toying with them. A half-empty Strawberry Ramune bottle and a dirty bowl from supper, (a minced vegetable dish) sat on my nightstand. Plugged up to the wall was a tiny, white plastic radio (a 1970's model with no clock, a mail-in Christmas gift from my American aunt overseas) softly playing dramatic orchestra music.

I thudded my head against the wall and sighed.

I had followed Monika's advice from today's club meeting and turned off my laptop and phone hours ago (except for my radio, on the concept that some background music would help 'get the juices flowing'). Since I got home, it was just me and my thoughts. I contemplated inviting Sayori over to brainstorm our final poems together, but tossed the idea aside. She probably wouldn't feel like going out anywhere anyway, preferring to sleep in like she normally does.

I stared across the room, fixated on the tiny wastebasket tucked into the corner. To the brim it was filled with crumpled up yellow papers, various sketches and ideas scrawled on them all. All rejects.

As I stared at the balls of trash piled up, I felt my emotions grow more...disgusted. Maybe not disgusted, but upset. Upset at myself for not being smart enough to come up with a decent poem by now.

I clicked my pen over and over in annoyance. I glanced down at the yellowpad again, and tossed it aside.

'I need some air.' I thought to myself.

I got up from my bed and walked to my window, moving aside a few books sitting on the windowsill to prevent them from falling outside. I snatched the last Ramune bottle from my desk and popped it open, forgetting I already had one open.

I unlatched the window locks and propped it open.

The rain was reduced to a light drizzle, faintly sprinkling on my shirt sleeves and hair. I took a sip from my Ramune bottle and looked out across the neighborhood. The pagoda-inspired rooftops were neatly organized, a tightly-designed grid extending as far as my eyes could see. Usual urban life sounds (a dog barking, cars driving by, crickets) filled my ears.

Some twelve miles away past the river, the faint outline of the downtown Tokyo skyline was visible, the bright lights shining through the fogs haze. The majestic Tokyo Skytree (the tallest structure in Japan at 2080 feet tall, for the record) gleamed through the night, with the smaller, more homely Tokyo Tower nearby. If I squinted, I could just make out the thin outline of Mount Fuji, the white-capped mountain looming over the city.

I sighed.

'This was going to be harder than I thought'.

But what was I expecting? Love poems have never been my forte (hell, love in general is something I've always treaded a thin line on). All the ideas I had developed these past few hours (including the one I had when I watched Natsuki leave) were okay, but they all felt too...crass. And cliche. Like it was something just written on a whim, a last-minute essay due next period. No emotion or heart to it, just robotic. If I was writing a poem like this, I wanted it to have soul.

Whatever I wrote, it had to be good-no, no, great. The best damn poem I'd ever write. It's gonna be the last one before we start working on the festival, Monika said? Then make it the best.

Only the best for Natsuki.

I took a swig from my drink, letting the sweet flavors swish around in my mouth.

A breeze blew in my face, and I felt a shudder rush up my spine, but not because of the cold. The question I had been dreading finally came to stare me in the face.

'What if she doesn't like it?'

And to add to that, 'What if she doesn't like me?'

Well, then that's it, then. She'd read the poem and catch the hint, be weirded out and probably tell Sayori...who'd tell Monika...who'd tell Yuri, and that would be it. I'd be embarrassed out if the Literature Club, probably labeled a creep ('He only joined just to get with one of us!') Sayori would look down on me and try to slowly disassociate herself from me (probably stop talking to me altogether, history aside). Things would be incredibly awkward after, then I'd have no choice but to go back to life as 'normal'. Only talking to a few pre-existing friends, and once they found out...well, bye bye social life.

What a nightmare.

Another swig.

Unless it's just all in my head, my brain over-exaggerating reality. Fear taking root of your thoughts, amplifying the negatives while diminishing the positives. While there's a chance she might not like it, there's also the chance she will.

I tapped the bottle against the windowsill, listening to the glass gently clink...clink...clink.

Suddenly, a spark.

'Wait', I thought, trying to grasp this idea.

Yes. This is perfect. Yes yes yes.

I ducked my head inside and slammed the window shut. The radio was playing a slow jazz cover, full of saxophone (almost sounded like "How Deep is Your Love?", but I wasn't sure.) I swiped up my yellow notepad and pen, putting it down on my desk. I can't afford to lose this idea. I sat down at my desk, pushing aside the stacks of papers and books.

Eagerly, I brandished my pen and began to write.

…

An hour later, I had a neatly-written poem printed on a clean sheet of notepaper. I read and reread it, going over the final details. With a smile, I decided that it was perfect (well, about as perfect as it could get). Maybe Yuri wouldn't like how slightly lacking it was in sophisticated vocabulary, but then again, I didn't write it for her.

In 'celebration', I powered on my phone and laptop, and was greeted to a flurry of notifications. I swiped through most of them, either unimportant or not worth spending a few minutes on. News reports, new episode updates for my favorite series...nothing special.

I yawned, and glanced out the window from my chair. The inky blackness of the night persisted, with the moons glare shining on the traces of clouds. A quiet, serene scene. I looked down and glanced at my phone's clock.

2:23am.

Christ, how long did I spend working on that poem? It had to be at least several hours, maybe, of on and off work. However long it was, it has to be the most I've ever worked on anything, school-related or not.

I stretched my arms out, twisting to pop my back. After all that work, I was incredibly tired, yet I still had school in a few hours and I had to give Sayori her wake-up call.

I took a sip from my Ramune bottle, fighting to stay awake. 'I can sleep for a few hours and still wake up in time in the morning', my mind managed to process. I lazily grabbed my phone and set up an alarm for 7:00 sharp. I stood up and walked over to my inviting bed, collapsing onto the neatly-pressed sheets.

Just a few hours of sleep. Then we'll show Natsuki the poem and everything will be…

My world fell to black.

…

I woke up several hours later, the sunset glazing in through the window. My mind was locked in a state of confusion before I realized I had slept through the day. I tried to call Sayori to let her know what happened, but it went straight to voicemail. I cursed, and sat up on my bed. I should try going to her house and apologize for not showing up to the meeting (or giving her an explanation so late) face-to-face.

I clicked open the door to the hallway.

Natsuki was standing there, motionless. Her skirt was torn in several places, part of her vest sleeve ripped off. Her face was staring down at the floor, her pink hair dirtied and frayed. In her hand, I saw a heavily damaged book, scorch marks on the cover. Parfait Girls?

I stammered. "N-Natsu-"

"You weren't at school today. We were all waiting for you, but you didn't show." she growled, her voice low and distant.

I took a step back, slightly defensive. "Natsuki, I can ex-"

She followed. "Me and you reading together was all I had to look forward to, and you ripped that pleasure away from me. How could you do that?" She continued.

I felt a shiver. "Natsuki, I'm sorry-"

"When I realized you weren't gonna come, I hid in the bathroom and cried. Is that what you want? For me to be hurt more than I already am?" She said, her voice cracking with that last part.

What did she mean? Hurt more than I already am? What's going on?

"Natsuki, please-"

She threw the book aside. "HELP ME, KAZUMA! PLEASE! PLAY WITH ME!" her voice gargled, her throat choking. She coughed, and a spray of blood lashed my face. I tripped and fell back, scooting away in a state of absolute fear.

My eyes were frozen.

She looked up at me and gave me a wicked smile. Her facial features had vanished, leaving only a blank white face and that wide, broken grin. "HELP ME!" she screeched, voice piercing through my ears.

There was a sickening crunch, and her neck seemed to contort and snapped in two. My jaw dropped in horror, as her body convulsed. She rushed towards me, and her small hands wrapped around my neck-

…

I gasped as my eyes snapped open, my alarm blaring in my ears. I turned on my bed and hastily grabbed it with sweaty hands, my eyes squinting at the bright screen. With a few taps, the alarm ceased.

"What the fuck…" I kept muttering to myself, trying to understand the nightmare. I ran my fingers through my hair, rubbing my eyes clear of gunk.

What in the everloving fuck was that? Why was Natsuki like that? What did it mean? Was there a meaning? And furthermore, what did she mean by 'hurt more than I already am?'

I shook the thoughts away. 'It was just a nightmare. All this stressing out caused it. I need to stop worrying.' I tried to tell myself, but the ugly thoughts lingered.

I stepped into my bathroom to relieve myself. I finished up and reached into the shower to turn the water on. I slipped out of my clothes and hopped into the shower, dousing my hair in the hot jets of water. The water rushed over my body, and put me at ease. By the time I had finished, I forgot all about the nightmare (to my relief).

I dried myself off and went through with my usual morning routine. Got dressed, combed my hair, brushed my teeth, all that. I shoved my phone into my pocket and quietly stepped downstairs, trying not to wake my parents.

The living room and kitchen was dark, the lights off. I turned on the oven light and turned the knob on one of the stoves. I quietly pulled out a pan from the pantry and set it on the quickly-heating stove. I turned and dug into the fridge, pulling out a four-count carton of eggs, and started pulling out other ingredients.

I can hear the stove click off and I return to it's attention. I take three of the eggs from the container and crack then on the rim of the pan, hearing the sizzlepopopopop of the egg mix with the heat.

In a few minutes, I had a nice, seasoned omelette on a plate ready to eat. I took the other two omelettes I had made and put them in the fridge, a little surprise for my parents when they wake up. I quietly wash the dishes and replace them in the drawers.

I grab my plate and take a seat at the dining table, headphones in. I quickly devour my breakfast, scrolling through today's morning news. I glance up at the clock hanging up on the wall, resting above a portrait of myself, my mother and my father.

7:37am.

'Well, now would be a good a time as ever to call her', I thought. I take my plate upstairs and open my phone, tapping to the dialer. I punched in Sayori's cell. I walked over to my window and took in the morning scenery. Outside, I could hear a few birds crying out their usual morning chorus. I pressed my phone to my ear with my shoulder, digging through my bag for my binder.

The line clicked. A groggy, female voice answered. "H...hello?"

"Sayori? It's Kazuma."

Silence.

"...Sayori?"

Her voice returns, now chipper and bright. "Oh, hi Kazuma! Why did you call me this early?"

I pause. Did she really forget? "Don't you remember from yesterday? I was going to give you a wake-up call every morning." I pull out my binder, solid black and stuffed with papers.

"Oh, right! I almost forgot. I'll be down in a few minutes." She says. Through the phone, I can hear a faucet running.

I grab my poem from my desk and slide it into a holder. "Cool. See you then." I say, and hang up on her. I close up my binder and stuff it back into my bag, right next to the Parfait Girls volume.

Oh, fuck.

How did I forget? I was supposed to read it yesterday so I could read with Natsuki after the club meeting! I grind my teeth in anger. Damnit. I shake my head. 'I can just read it through the day and have it done by the time the club meeting starts'. Sure, I might look dorky reading manga out in public, but I don't really care. It's important.

I flick the lights off to my room and close the door, heading downstairs. I quietly open the front door and lock it behind me, walking to the gate. The convenience is that Sayori lives only a few doors down from me, a walk that takes less than a...

I peer down the street.

A girl rests up against the fencing, looking up at the sky. A dash of red in her orange/pink-tinted hair. Brown blazer and a blue skirt. Sayori.

She glances in my direction, almost not noticing me. "Kazuma!" She waves her arms excitedly, as if I can't see her. I chuckle and walk towards her, but she runs up to me and embraces me.

I smile despite her eagerness. "Nice to see you too, Sayori." I say, with an awkward laugh.

We start the walk to school, chatting indistinctly about schoolwork and other random stuff. We of course talk about the club, and Sayori brings up that the Literature Club has a group chat that I need to be added to now that I'm a member, which should be...interesting, to say the least.

We reach the gates of the school and gives me another hug and says her goodbyes. She starts to run off before I stop her. "Woah, what's the rush?" I say, confused.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you! I'm meeting Monika this morning so we can discuss the plans for the festival. I was supposed to meet her now, so I need to get there fast."

I give her a look. "Why can't I go?" My mind traces back to Yuri and Natsuki. Are they going to go?

She pauses. "Oh, well it's…" she tries to find her words. "private talk, y'know? President and Vice-president talk. Well tell y'all today at the meeting. Anyway, I gotta go!" She gives me a final wave before she darts off, dodging pass the slow-moving students around her.

I stand alone, still confused. 'President and Vice-president talk?' Wonder what that entails. I can't help but wonder if their talk is about me, in a bad way. About the events yesterday, perhaps?

I shake those thoughts away. Sayori did say she would share their discussion with everyone else today. I'll just have to wait. Plus, if I did go with her, I wouldn't have time to catch up with the Parfait Girls.

I walk through the main building, double checking the campus map at the front doors. My eyes scan for the library…

…

The third period bell rang, and the class became alive with activity. Lunchtime had arrived, and a lot of students were eager for today's menu, nikujaga (a rich beef stew with potatoes).

I slung my bag over my shoulder and mixed with the crowd, in unison making their way to the cafeteria. I entered the cafeteria, a long low building with windows extending all the way up to the roofline. During the midday natural light streamed in through the massive, unobstructed windows, giving it a peaceful air. Fountains and small trees dotted the court, giving it a more au natural feeling. Most people sat on the ground floor, but there was also an elevated seating area overlooking the main court, accessible via stairwell. It was typically occupied by people looking for a more 'quiet' and reserved place to enjoy their meals. I usually sat there when I need to cramstudy before a class, or to sit and enjoy my manga with few judgement.

The air smelled rich with spices, which made my stomach rumble all the more. I joined the line and in a few minutes had a steaming bowl of soup (plus a cookie treat and a side dish of fried rice to go with it) in my hands on a tray.

Now, where to sit? At this school, everyone had their own sort of 'cliques', i.e groups that always hang out together. I usually sit by myself somewhere secluded, or more often with some friends I share interests with (mainly anime). But I don't...

A flash of pink catches my eye. My eyes swivel back to relocate it.

There, sitting up against the farthest wall, nose down in a small, colorfully-decorated book. Blue skirt tucked in her legs, muted pink bag sitting next to her. Red clip in her hair. Face with a monotone expression, focus directed at her manga.

Natsuki.

'What the hell? Why is she all alone? Is she always alone at lunch?' My mind raced through a billion different answers. Do Monika, Sayori and Yuri not have this lunch? Do they go off campus to eat? Does Natsuki not like going along with them?

I felt my bowl shift on my tray, from my hands starting to shake with nervousness.

'I have to go talk to her.' I think.

I start to move past the students, who pay me no mind. My mind continues to swirl. Have I seen her eat lunch here beforehand? There's usually a couple of loners sitting up against the wall, on their phone or otherwise. It feels like there's always been a dash of pink among them. My stomach gets heavy. If only I had known her before, she'd always have someone to sit with.

'Just be cool. Be cool. Be cool….'

I stand in front of her. She hasn't noticed me yet, I don't think.

I clear my throat. "Natsuki?"

She glanced up and jumps at the sight of me. "K-Kazuma?" She stutters, dropping her manga (Parfait Girls volume 3, the next one I'm supposed to read). "What are you doing here?"

I shift on my feet. "I have this lunch. Why are you all by yourself?"

She looks away, ashamed. "...I don't have anyone to sit with."

"What? What about Monika and the others?" I swear, if they purposefully leave her out of their clique, I'll…

She shrugs. "They don't have this lunch. They're in the B Group."

My emotions relax. "I see." At this school, there's two lunches, A and B. Usually A Lunch is filled with third and fourth years, with B having first and second, but there's always a few kids who get left out of the majority.

"Is that why your on the floor, then?" I ask.

She gets up and dusts herself off, the Parfait Girls volume clutched in her hand. "Why do you care?" She says, her voice icy cold.

"I was just wondering if you…" my hands grip the tray. "would like to sit with me? I get it if you don't want to..." I mentally prepare myself for an outright rejection, or a laugh in the face.

Natsuki blushes. "Umm, s-sure. But I don't know where we'd sit." she say, her eyes scanning the sea of heads.

I smile. "Just follow me." I watch her grab her stuff and I walk past the rows of tables heading for the upstairs sitting area. Natsuki walks side-by-side with me up the stairs.

Thankfully, the deck is relatively free of students. Only a couple kids are scattered across the tables, chatting and eating indistinctly. A few kids give us a glance but return to their business. I walk over to a corner table with a nice view of the lower court. Natsuki put her bag down and takes a seat. I put my tray down and join her.

There's a brief pause.

Natsuki speaks up. "Have you finished the Parfait Girls volume yet?" Her hand rests on her current volume.

I take a bite of my rice, sharp with flavor. I nod, having managed to finish the book before the first bell. "Yeah. It was really good. You were right about how things get interesting after a while. I can tell that stuff is about to get…" I twirl my fork. "real." I laugh.

She politely joins the laugh.

I can't help but notice how Natsuki is eyeing my soup, her eyes hungry. I take a sip of my drink before I dare to ask. "Did you eat lunch already?"

She turns away, arms folded. "No."

"What? Why not? The lines died down a bit." I say, pointing towards the food line below with my fork. Compared to earlier, now only a few kids were waiting in line for their meals.

"I know, but I forgot to bring my money." She says, embarrassed.

I don't even hesitate. I gently pushed my tray towards her,

Natsuki glances down at the tray, and gives it a look of disbelief. "Kazuma...are you sure?" She says, eyes locked on the still-steaming bowl of soup.

I nod. "Well, it would be mean to offer it to you just to take it away from you, wouldn't it? And don't worry, I'll just get a bite from the vending machine later." I make a motion with my hands. "Eat."

Natsuki picks up the utensils, and gives me a final "Are you sure? glance. I just nod.

For a few moments, it's mostly silent as Natsuki hungrily wolf's down the stew, draining the bowl in a few minutes.

My mind claws for a conversation piece. I think back to the poems.

'Now's your chance, Kazuma. Don't ruin it.'

I reach down to my bag. "Hey, so um...I have my poem with me, and I was wondering if you wanted to trade them now so we don't have to later, and we can get to reading Parfait Girls quicker." A pause. "That is, i-if you want to." I add for good measure, so she doesn't feel forced.

She just smiles. "Sure." She unlatches her bag and pulls out a pink folder, a few hearts and cat stickers decorating the front. I pull out my binder and retrieve the paper. I feel my heart beat just a little quicker...

"I'll go first. Here." I hand her the paper. She gingerly takes it and glances at it.

Moment of truth.

She starts to read, still eating the last few grains of rice. I watch her face turn from general boredom to intrigue and ending with...all I can call it is amazement. Her cheeks flush red.

"Wow...that was…that was…" her voice is slightly higher toned. "Um…that was…"

I butt in. "...bad?" Fuck, here we go.

She quickly shakes her head no. "Nonono, it was...just, wow. I, um...you wrote this for me-" she drops her spoon and almost yells. "I MEAN THE CLUB!" she laughs awkwardly. "You wrote this for the-the club?"

On the outside I look neutral, normal. But on the inside I'm screaming.

'She loved it! Oh my God!' I feel a massive weight lifted off my chest, a hurdle passed. Now the question is…

"Yeah, I spent all night working on it. It's our last poem we'll share together before we work on the festival, so I wanted to make it good for y-the club." Fuck, did she hear that?

She nods her head. "It was really good, Kazuma. I didn't expect you to write something this...good." she hands me the paper back, slightly quivering in her hand.

My mind still in a daze. I can't believe it. She loved it. She loved it. She loved it.

"...but I still think mines better." She quirps, handing me her own paper. It's a slightly dogeared piece of copy paper, written with pencil. I can see her polite, cutesy handwriting from here.

My hand quickly takes the paper and I start to read. Like a sponge, I absorb every word.

Breathless
by Natsuki Tamura

In and out
Inhale, exhale
Repetitive and constant
A machine that never turns off

A thick, inky smog clogs my nose
Searing my face, the heat
It burns, hurts
This smoke which I can't wave away

Then, a light in the darkness
You come to blow the smoke away
And with you
It's a breath of fresh air

My lungs are clean
My eyes can see again
And my heart is happy

My hands clutch the paper. My head swirls with a billion thoughts. The smells of everyone's lunches fills my nostrils and my eyes blur just a tad. Is this really happening.

I can't believe it. Am I dreaming? Certainly I'll wake up from this daze and be in bed, struggling to write a poem for today.

She wrote this for me. This was written at me. She had to. There's no other way to decipher this. The metaphors, the analogies, the...everything! This has to be a confession, right?

"...Kazuma?" Natsuki waves her hand in my face, snapping me out of my trance.

I open my mouth to speak.

The bell rings.

'WHAT? No, nonono! It can't be like this!' my mind screams. 'Why the hell did it have to ring NOW! God fucking damnit!'

The cafeteria becomes abuzz with activity, students dumping their trash away and heading out the double doors to class. "Ah, well..I guess I'll just tell you my thoughts at the club meeting, then." I start to hand her the paper back. To my surprise, she pushes the paper back to me.

"Actually...why don't you hold onto it…" she pauses, a light blush on her face. "Yknow, for safe keeping."

My hands grip the paper tighter. 'It was meant for me. It was meant for me to have. She wants me to keep it.' My mind repeats these words over and over.

"Oh, sure." I try to say, keeping my voice tranquil and chill but actually starting to shake with nervousness. I can't believe this is actually happening.

We walk together downstairs, the empty tray in hands. We stop in front of the doors leading out to the foyer. I put the tray into a trashcan and turn to her. "So, I'll see you at the clubroom?" I say, adjusting my bag on my shoulders. She nods. "Yeah. Share with me last so we can just get back to reading, okay?" she says, those beautiful pink eyes staring at me.

I smile. "I can't wait."

She turns away. I can see a trace of a blush on her cheeks. "Alright...bye." she gives me a small wave and hurriedly walks away to class. I give a final look and turn away.

My heart feels like it could explode, but if it did I wouldn't care. I'd die a happy man.