Clusters of dashingly delicate pink petals float around the two Junior High students, marooning them into a serene landscape, groups of some blooms aflutter in the wind as fast as a sparrow would flap its wings. With the ever rising peaks of the cherry trees' season, they puffed out many petite seeds covered by a sort of elegant, frail jacket of pale shell-pink and their mission to infiltrate every inch of the vast field you were in was succeeding. Crunching stems attached to healthily growing brushes caused you to wince in sympathy for them, even if you wouldn't exactly call yourself a gardener, you would be incensed to find precious plants to be haughtily stepped on by a couple of budding teens.
Nichibotsu was what the two of you deftly named your shrouded grove containing wonders to the eye's appetite, buds sticking precariously onto the ends of dark and light branches alike acting as decor for the natural eye candy, and cleverly named for its view of the setting sun that equally set your qualms at ease. Shinso was an interest of yours in a way, mischievously bold in the background of day-to-day life, concealing a bluntly carved nature that delves deeper into viewpoints themselves, and you wouldn't deny if someone said you happened to be enraptured with his principles. Nothing romantic sluggishly running its course like an obese caterpillar struggling to worm its way into the fragile thorn bush, of course, you would greatly call him your one and only close friend in this ludicrous, hypocritical world spinning on its axis.
Plopping yourselves into one of your more treasured nooks and crannies within the spanning field, beams of orange hues begin to gently hover over both of your beings, the faintest chirrups of crickets calling out into the silent atmospheric well created by the two of you. It was normal for you to traverse creeks, hike into various trails presenting piles of minerals and pebbles for your clumsy legs to promptly slip onto, and swiftly ride bikes into the near dawn with Hitoshi; if not for your unwavering will to befuddle the cold front of the male, you wouldn't have been able to climb even further on the slopes of your relationship, thank the stars. Speaking of them, they started to blip into a extraterrestrial tray of circular treats mixed into existence, courtesy of the Milky Way's universal batter frosting the dotted, shiny constellations that peeked out from under the wrappings of milky white clouds.
Awestruck, nearly shaking your head even if it had been a view that had been embedded into your mind from the months before, you slip your vision onto the lion's mane of violet staying in place next to you, meeting a pair of purposeful eyes with the intent to look at your person. A flash of embarrassment coddles your expression for less than a second, settling into a curve of your somewhat bushy brows and your mouth jumping youthfully up, dimples floating to the surface of your cheeks.
"What'cha cooking, good looking?" purrs into the air, without a doubt drawing the boy's redness to flush his face.
Groaning in response to your awful attempt of fabricated flirting, his eyes make like a pill bug and roll around momentarily in annoyance, attention coming back to your nearby form. Silence is uncontested in the domain in which you reside, it resting its laurels on both of your flexed shoulders and jeering loudly, however quiet it may be. This in turn causes you to further reach your eyebrow up the canvas of your forehead, confusion beginning to reign supreme in this unexpected moment of the evening.
You knew Shinsou Hitoshi to be the type of guy that doesn't hesitate to speak his mind, in spite of the growing opposition against his dry personality and unnecessary commentary concerning his "troubling" quirk, busting facades that were as crooked as the students attempting to mask their disgust against him. A crux of unknown origin had entered the room, unpleasantly settling itself into the recesses of your formerly at peace, state of mind.
"You know that if you let that small guy in your head continue to run like a broken record, nothin' will come of it," is said with a sincere tone of respect towards the other, not wanting to tick any unsatisfactory check boxes within his head. At that his head shortly wobbles unevenly in a desperate try to balance his kinesthetic senses being muddled with ever growing emotional discontent, a frown settling under his sharp nose.
"Yeah, I get it. It's just..." his hands are thrown lividly into the air with the crinkling of his nose, further frustration beginning to make itself known to the both of you. "It's not as easy as it seems to really say it without it coming off the wrong way," his eyes travelling down to focus on multiple forests of three and five leaf clovers swinging in the absence of his hands in the dirt.
A barely stifled chuckle spurts out into the space, a hand shooting to tangle itself within his short purple locks, an offering to continue on while teasing him. "Come on, dude. It probably won't be as bad as you think, just say it out loud!" fancily springing yourself up to yell the last few words in an imitation of Present Mic's radio catchphrase. Laughter couples the two of your bellies together in harmony, animalistic snorts huffing out of each other's noses from the intensity of the actions.
Wiping happy tears from the corner of his bruised, purple under eyes, he exclaims, "Shut up, fine, I'll just say it and get it over with. I think I have feelings for you." Starting to realize the brevity and amount of emotional expanse your best friend must have exhausted in order to even say the words aloud, you rein in your thoughts ringing along to the resounding humming in your ears.
Darting your sight subtly from nearly every crinkle made in his equally black and red uniform, to the way he's making a dopey smile and the hesitation that is being sent off of his face in waves, you recollect yourself and begin to muster what could be an acceptable response to such a loaded yet casual sentence.
"I," starts without any impulsive necessity from the working neurons screaming inside of your brain that's reduced to incomprehensible mush, lamely being followed by your hands reaching into your hair for some sort of balance. "'M glad you like me that way, Hitoshi," is what slips out from your shivering tongue in an uncharacteristic fright of ruining a friendship and quite possibly cementing him taking it the wrong way.
More signs of jubilation begin to shimmer softly into the glints of his semi-closed eyes, honing in onto your posture and your relaxed nature, assuming that all is completely going well while your insides are only obviously screaming to you. He allows you to take some more time from staring at his alabaster skin, unnoticeably tanned in a manner that was presumably obtained from the joys of biking with him, continuously making you all the more nervous about how this would pan out.
"I love you, I really do, it's just that I wouldn't want to lie to your face saying that I feel the same way," you utter with the most confident posture you can maintain while having your nerves wracked, making sure to have a gentle curve of your lips and empathetic eyes for your friend to look at. At this he lies still for a moment on his elbows, dread starting to take over the formerly anxious tension within his shoulder blades, eyelids coming to blink slowly as if in a slow-motion cut so he can properly process whatever mess just occurred.
Oh, is all that escapes from his weary throat and you can practically feel the frog in his throat forming excruciatingly hoarse intonations by the last consonant in his brief exclamation. Waylaid upon the both of you are spreading cracks travelling through your spirits, seemingly dividing and partitioning at will what sort of trusting strings held the two of you in comfort just a couple of minutes ago.
"I understand, I shouldn't have assumed," Shinso says breathily, the evident glassiness forming onto the outer layer of his eyes showing his composure is daintily, and sadly falling apart with his bravado for his declaration. Your arms rapidly chuck themselves into his own in a tackle of sorts, not wanting to upset him any further yet also having the deep urge to comfort him in the best way you knew how to, a famous bone crushing hug of yours. His walls break down and he lets the floodgates release with tiny whimpers curdling from the back of his throat, clutching your back as a lifeline to staying slightly upright both emotionally and physically. Others had barely even gotten this close with the boy, only bypassing the category of acquaintance with him relationship-wise, only you had been the one to stick with him trying and true, all these months.
Sobs turn into wails and he allows himself to cry into your arms, lingering insects in the vicinity turning their antenna to the dramatic scene before them, turning their appendages robotically as if they were pointing at the situation at hand. You didn't mind if he cried in front of you, as one of your favorite sayings to him was bluntly put as, 'Look, I really don't give a shit and won't tell a peep, this is between you and me,' not having an explicit policy like most other people to never talk about bouts of depression if they happen in front of those you trust.
Looking back onto your determination to become closer with him in such an in-your-face manner, anyone could have assumed you were trying to court him if they happened to chance upon the two of you, with how hard-headed and stubborn you were acting as fences that surrounded any and all thoughts of your intentions being misconstrued as anything else but friendship. There were no other sounds for a while, only the accompaniment of the sun dutifully and gracefully drifting downwards towards the horizon in its blazing glory, cloaking the two of you in its slowly abating light source before dipping under the realm in which you could not see its round self anymore.
With a start, he lifts his ruffled amethyst head up to gaze into your eyes longingly, in an unrequited way that you couldn't help but feel empathy towards. A blurb squeaking ditzily within the black hole of your thought process shouts for you to do something about it before it becomes uncomfortable, another consciousness rebutting with how you should compromise in case your friendship is in tatters and unsalvageable. You decide to squeeze the two ideas together and kiss the top of his forehead in a platonic way, resting your hands on his shoulders in the arrival of your next few sentences.
"I know it's painful, something that you wish could happen but just isn't happening right now, but I promise you I'll still be here for you if you need me. I won't just abandon you like that, doofus!" you gingerly say to your beloved companion, trying to instill a sense of security within his tried and true state of being, glossing over potholes that may have started appearing in defense to your reaction beforehand.
Shinso cracks one of his dorky teethed grins, creases appearing at both ends of his mouth as a true smile starts to spread across his face.
"I wouldn't have it any other way."