A/N: You guys have been so amazing and nice. Thank you. One more chapter after this. Thank you for sticking with me, and for your patience. Shoutouts to BoldandBright, and Mrs. Zala. You have both been super sweet and friendly. Cheers.
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Satsumi's driving is a lot slower than Igarashi's helicopter, but the motion of the van rocks Takumi to sleep. When they pull into Takumi's street, the night sky is changing colours.
"Go get some rest," Satsumi tells him with a wink over the snores of the others. "Take the rest of your spring break, be a teenage boy and do fun things."
He finds his father passed out in the main hallway, stinking of alcohol. "Dad, let's get you to bed," he urges, dropping his bag to pick the older man up.
"Takumi? Is that you?" the older man slurs, his head lolling. "I thought I smelled your mother's perfume. Did you see her? Did she come by?"
"Go to sleep in your bed," he soothes, dragging his dad into the other bedroom.
"Tell her I'm sorry," his father groans, collapsing on the quilt. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt her."
He trudges upstairs, careful not to wake Sasuke. At this point, his eyes are closing from exhaustion, so he drops face-down on the mattress. In seconds, he is asleep.
Takumi wakes up at noon, his head full of dreams he cannot remember. The previous night's events come back to him, and he curls into a ball, his chest hurting. "Why are you heartbroken, you idiot?" he mutters aloud. "You were the one who hurt her."
His cellphone beeps. "Can we come over to study?" Hanazono texts.
The world goes on, Takumi thinks, staring at the screen. Right. After four days away, there are three days left of spring break, and all his homework still not done. He types in a "Yes," but his thumb pauses over the send button. With a groan, he tips his head back, pounding the pillows with his fist. He isn't up to company right now, though both Hanazono and Kaga are not too bad. However, they would probe him about his last few days, and he isn't ready to explain what just happened.
Things are supposed to be back to normal, but his world has completely shifted.
What is Ayuzawa doing right now? Probably getting ready for her wedding in two weeks. The image of her as a bride fills his head, squeezing his chest. Sitting up, he stabs the send button. Now is not the time to mope. He has homework to catch up on, and a school festival to plan.
Sasuke knocks on the door and pokes his head inside. "I thought I heard you moving around. Welcome back, brother. You look tired."
"It's good to see you," Takumi tells him, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Sasuke comes in, giving him a hug.
Odd. Generally, Sasuke avoids physical contact.
"Did something happen?" He holds Sasuke at an arms' length, studying him. "Did Dad hurt you?"
"No, Dad was all right," Sasuke replies, reaching into his pocket. "This arrived for you the day you left." He slips the letter into Takumi's hands.
Takumi reads the sender's name and address. "From England?"
"I think it's the boarding school you applied to when you graduated from middle school. Do you remember?" Sasuke smiles. "I believe that it's an acceptance letter."
This can't be Igarashi's doing if the letter arrived the day he left. Takumi wishes he was more excited about it; instead, he feels empty inside.
The first paragraph confirms Sasuke's words, and behind him, his brother lets out a whoop. "Wait," Takumi warns. "Don't celebrate just yet. I can't leave you or dad right now, and we can't afford the tuition. I can barely scrape by enough for our upkeep."
Sasuke snatches the letter out of his hands, pointing to the words, "Full Scholarship," "Board and Lodging," and "Monthly Stipend."
"Look, Big Brother, don't worry about us. We'll do fine," Sasuke assures him.
"I'll still work part time," Takumi promises, "and I'll send back money for the household."
"It'll be an excellent opportunity. I'll apply to the same school next year, maybe they'll accept me too," Sasuke grins.
Takumi's eyes fall on the date he needs to leave. He has two months left in Japan, then. Closing his eyes, he hugs his little brother, banishing all thoughts of a golden-eyed girl.
The start of school is uneventful, and as Takumi figured, Misaki is not in attendance. The assembly is full of the usual announcements and excitement for the upcoming cultural festival. Takumi presides over it with a scowl, though he has to fight not to snap at everyone who addresses him. Even the Vice Principal keeps his distance, sensing his foul mood.
The tasks are endless, given his rank and position, but Takumi welcomes them. Anything to get his mind off Misaki helps. He informs the student council of his plans and arrangements are made for Yukimura to succeed him until they can hold next year's elections. The council members are sad, except for Minako Goda, Head of Elections, who tells him she never expected a man to fill the shoes of all the women presidents before him (though later, she begrudgingly admits he did a better job than the previous one.) He cannot be bothered to get angry about it, so he just nods.
The days fly by, and Takumi runs to the Butler Cafe after school as well, jumping headfirst into whatever cosplay Satsuki has planned for the day. He works himself into exhaustion so that he doesn't have to think when he gets home, burning through his homework and then collapsing into bed.
The first test is when he runs into the three senior girls at the Butler Cafe. "Taku-chan, where's the Queen?" Kurosaki asks. The very nickname makes him flinch, and guilt washes over him.
"That's right," Shirokawa agrees. "We haven't seen her around in school, right?"
"I don't know," he snaps, surprising them. The whole cafe goes silent, and all eyes are on him.
"But isn't she your girlfriend?" Sarashina persists. Takumi feels a vein in his forehead throbbing. This is why he hates girls.
At this point, Eiji jumps in, a nervous smile on his face. "Ladies, Takumi will be going on break, and I'm going to take over. Takumi, go." He nudges Takumi with his hip. With a nod, Takumi flees to the back, tackling the dishes instead, and ignoring the stares of his coworkers.
Going through the motions is the phrase that rings through Takumi's head as the week melts away. The school is a hive of activity, but he cannot summon the energy or the enthusiasm to make it. Because he is the school president, however, he forces himself to smile for his council.
The school festival falls on a Friday, the day before Misaki's wedding. He hates that the second part is still stuck in his mind, no matter how much he tries to fill it with other things. As he organizes the school festivities, he half-hopes, half-dreads running into her if she decides to show up.
"She's not going to come," he mutters to himself as he inspects the costumes for a class play.
"Who is?" Yukimura asks, checking his clipboard. "Are you expecting someone, President?"
"No, I was just talking to myself," Takumi sighs.
A passing teacher ropes him into guiding a group of visiting students around, and more tasks appear as soon as he finishes.
"Are you going to the bonfire later, President?" a shy freshman asks, egged on by her giggling friends.
"I'm giving a speech there," he responds, wondering why the girl turns pink.
"Can I talk to you then?" she squeaks.
"Why can't you talk to me now?" Takumi mutters, already thinking of the logistics of the event. She turns and runs away, hiding her face with her hands.
"I think she is going to confess to you then. It's school tradition, after all," Hanazono tells him, nudging him in the ribs. "She was kind of cute too."
Great. Takumi had forgotten all about that part of the festival. Hanazono is right; it is school tradition, but he is sorely tempted to skip out on his speech altogether. Another class rep demands his attention, and he is running again, successfully distracted from all thoughts of she-who-must-not-be-named.
In the end, Takumi gives his speech to Yukimura, claiming a headache in order to hide in the student council office. It isn't much of a lie either, he thinks, massaging his temples as he stares at the pile of papers on his desk.
"Are you sure?" Yukimura asks. "We've got the fireworks and everything set up."
"Just go," Takumi replies. "And don't tell anyone I'm here."
"Aye, aye." Yukimura salutes smartly and closes the door behind him as he leaves.
Takumi sinks into the President's chair, the soreness in his back and legs making him wince. Come to think of it; he has been working nonstop since he got back from Okinawa. The quiet of the office is exactly what he needs, after today.
After sorting the receipts and marking them in the ledger, Takumi stretches. Night is falling, and the evening events are about to start. He decides to make one last round of inspections before the end of the day, knowing that a walk would do him good.
The classrooms are empty because everyone is down in the quad for the bonfire. He shoos out a few couples who tried to take advantage of the quiet, sending them to the public space. After all, he is the Demon President, and rules are rules.
When Takumi turns into the corridor of his classroom, he smells it: Misaki's distinctive scent, floral and musky, hangs in the air. His stomach clenches immediately, and his heart rate kicks up. Is she here?
The door of his classroom opens, and to his surprise, Igarashi strolls out. "Ah, President Usui, here you are," the blond boy drawls, looking uncomfortable in jeans and a sweater. As far as Takumi remembers, he has always seen Igarashi in impeccably tailored suits.
"What are you doing here?"
"Checking out your school festival, of course. I'm hurt, Takumi. You didn't tell me you were having one. I thought we were friends," Igarashi pouts, though there is a layer of tension underneath his words.
"What's going on? Isn't your wedding tomorrow?" Takumi narrows his eyes suspiciously.
"Yeah, well, Misa wanted to have one last look at her old campus. Kind of like a goodbye to youth, that sort of thing. Who'd have thought Misaki was the sentimental type, eh? She even did the whole dress-up thing." Igarashi's tone is too lighthearted. Something must be up.
"Did you lose her?" he asks. Somewhere, on this campus, Misaki is walking around. Is she looking for him?
Igarashi holds his phone up, showing him a GPS tracker. "Remember, we put a tracker on her? I'll never lose her." His eyes gleam in the incandescent lights. "I wanted to talk to you, Takumi."
No, he does not want to speak with Igarashi, not when he is still too raw. "I'm kind of in the middle of our school festival, Igarashi. You're a student council president, and you know how it is. Anyway, I've got to run."
He turns on his heel, fleeing when Igarashi calls after him, "Thank you. For what you did, and what you said."
Takumi stops. Not sure what to tell the other boy, he nods tightly.
"It's funny, you know. Here we are, scrambling to protect Misa," Igarashi shakes his head ruefully, moving to stand in front of him. "I forget how self-contained she can be, and how brave she is. Here. She's going to need some moral support."
Takumi doesn't understand why Igarashi hands him the phone. "Go find her. Tell her not to be out too late," the blond boy tells him. "I've got my errands to do. By the way, she's the red dot on the screen."
With that, Igarashi waves and heads off.
What was that? Takumi looks at the screen in his hand. She is close.
He doesn't even know what he'll say to her, or if she'll even talk to him. All Takumi knows is that he needs to see her, right now. Before he knows it, his feet are moving, running, taking him towards the flashing red light.
According to the device, she is in the second-year classroom at the end of the hallway. The lights are out, so he hesitates. Is she in there? The sound of a chair being moved makes him jump.
With clammy fingers, he slides the door open, and then everything inside him stops. All he can see is right now is Misaki, kneeling on the desk by the window, her fingers pressed to the glass as fireworks light the sky outside. A knot in his stomach dissolves at the sight of her.
It's true what they say about brides looking radiant, he thinks, feeling his chest tighten at the sight of her profile. She is dressed in some Renaissance costume, and it suits her perfectly. Everything suits her perfectly, of course. She is Misaki Genji.
"I had wanted to see the festival one last time," she murmurs, tracing the lights with her fingertips. "I didn't mean to sneak in here. Are you going to kick me out, President?"
God. The way she says his title like it is an endearment… That hasn't changed. He is now in danger of crying, though he has to fight his instinctive urge to hold her. "Misaki," Takumi says her name now, approaching her.
She averts her face, avoiding his gaze. "So, fireworks this year huh? Did one of the companies donate those?"
He sinks into the chair nearest, gazing up at her. "Yes, thanks to you." It feels like a scene from a play, and he the embattled Romeo gazing up at the unreachable Juliet. Takumi knows he is not fit to apologize to her, not for the terrible way he treated her. Her scent is familiar and comforting.
His gaze falls on her hand, braced on the edge of the desk, long-fingered and strong. He lowers his cheek to the wooden surface, careful not to touch her, but close enough that he can feel the warmth of her skin on his face. This should be enough, he tells himself, closing his eyes. Let this be enough.
After a few minutes of silence, she speaks again. "For the record, you're a terrible liar, President. You might want to work on your poker face before you continue your political career."
Takumi sits up, heart pounding as he finds her face inches from his. "What do you-"
She pushes his hair away from his forehead. Her touch sends shivers down his spine. "It's okay. You were doing what you thought best." A burst of light illuminates her face, exposing the expression on her face, and it takes his breath away.
"I believed you at first, though," she states, glancing out the window again. "You were so convincing with the 'I wasn't serious about her', and that little 'All hail the Queen' bit at the end. But then I thought about it, President." Misaki quotes him with a mocking smile. "You were flinching the entire time you said that."
Casting a sidelong glance at him, she grins. "And it would be just like you to sacrifice yourself and say something like that. I know you, President. I've been watching you a long time." One of her eyebrows goes up as she says the last part. "I know how you think, too."
Her look makes him blush. "Are you some kind of perverted stalker?" he blurts out, crossing his arms.
"Wow, you hurt my feelings, President," she states, completely unaffected. "But you're kinda cute when you're all defensive like that."
She truly is the Queen, he thinks, to have that kind of confidence. And she's right. Takumi stands, slipping his hands into his pockets, so he isn't tempted to do anything crazy like kiss her. "So you're getting married tomorrow."
The corner of her lips goes up. "I didn't know you were keeping track of the days. Are you going to stop me?"
He thinks of his mother, of Igarashi's words, and of his own helplessness. "Do you want me to?"
Her gaze meets his. "Finally, someone asks," she sighs, rising to her knees. The skirts hamper her progress, so Takumi offers her a hand.
The desks are old and wobbly. They tip, and Misaki loses her balance. He ends up catching her, his arms going around her waist to steady her as he staggers back to regain his balance.
"Well, that was embarrassing," she quips, averting her gaze. "Here I was trying to look cool in front of you before-"
Takumi cuts her off, hugging her tighter than he has held anyone else before. One minute, he tells himself, one minute to lose himself in her, to make enough memories to last for the rest of his life. He slides his fingers into the silk of her air, pulling her close with his other arm. Misa is just the right height for him to brush his lips against her temple, to bury his nose in her hair.
Her fists dig into the back of his uniform jacket, clutching him just as tightly. She burrows deeper into his arms, hiding her face in his shoulder. Her shoulders are smaller than Takumi expects, and once again he is reminded that she is just a teenage girl, the same as him.
"I love you," he admits here, in the darkness and the quiet of an empty classroom.
Misaki goes still.
Takumi cradles her head against his chest, afraid to see her face. Surely, by now, she can hear the thundering of his pulse. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders straightening. Great, is she preparing to reject him?
"But," he interjects, looking at the ceiling. "I know I'm not even close to being the man you deserve. I'm just some kid from school, and you're the Prime Minister's daughter."
Her hand comes up to cover his mouth. "That's enough, Takumi," she tells him, eyes shining. "You told me your true feelings, and that's all I needed to know."
Lowering his head, he kisses her fingertips, watching her eyes go liquid. "I love you," he repeats, muffled by her skin.
Misaki grins, a genuine smile that wraps his heart in warmth. "Are you asking me out, President?"
"I …," Frankly, Takumi has no idea what he's doing.
"You don't seem to think you're my equal, though I disagree." He can see the determination in her eyes. His natural competitiveness fires up in response.
Okay, now he is annoyed. "Fine. I won't, then. I'm leaving the country in a few weeks," he tells her, scowling. "I'll be studying abroad."
"How's your English, President?" she quips, gazing up at him. "You placed second, after me, as I recall."
Is she provoking him? He narrows his gaze. She rises on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips. "Come stand beside me someday, Takumi. I'll give you my answer then."
"What is that supposed to mean?" he demands, bewildered. His lips are still tingling from the contact.
Her lips twitch. "It means, you should learn to lie better by the next time I see you. Be good, President. I have to go now."
"Wait, Igarashi gave me this." Takumi hands over the phone. "This is how I found you."
"Here I thought it was some kind of fate," she sighs. "President, you're too honest. Fine, give it to me, I'll take it back to him," she mutters, her brows drawing together. "But for the next few weeks, don't look for me on the news or the internet. Promise me, Takumi." Misaki holds up her pinkie.
"We aren't in kindergarten, anymore," Takumi tells her, hooking his finger around hers anyway.
"You promised," she announces, her eyes grave.
"Of all the things you want me to promise, this is what you want? Not to search for you online?" he repeats, just to be clear. She nods.
"Okay."
Misaki lets go of his hand. "Have a good life, Takumi, ok?"
Before he can say anything back to her, she is running out the door, leaving him in the dark, both literally and figuratively.