There's a certain kind of peace that comes with being invisible.
While the loudmouths battled for attention, and the overachievers competed over decimal points, I, Akiyama Haruki, floated somewhere in the blurry background of Class 2-B. Not hated. Not admired. Just… average.
It was the perfect high school existence.
At least, it was.
"...I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend."
Those were the first words Kusunoki Mei ever said to me.
We were alone in the library, tucked away in the farthest corner, where even the sound of pages turning echoed like gunshots. I blinked at her, unsure whether I had misheard—or if I had finally snapped from studying too long.
"Uh… come again?"
"I said I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend," she repeated, her tone as calm as if she were discussing the weather. Her expression didn't shift. No embarrassment, no hesitation. Just pure, glacial serenity.
I stared at her blankly. Kusunoki Mei—the reigning queen of serenity, academic perfection, and unattainable beauty—was standing in front of me, asking for me, Akiyama Haruki, human wallpaper, to fake date her.
This had to be a prank. Or a coma dream.
"I'm sorry, did I die on the way here? Is this a hallucination?"
She tilted her head slightly. "You're alive. I checked."
"Checked?!"
"I watched you breathe for approximately twenty-two seconds before speaking. No signs of distress."
"Okay, that's more terrifying than comforting…"
Mei placed a slender finger to her lips, thoughtful. "Ah. Should I have phrased that differently?"
"No, no, it's just—you know what, back up. Why do you need a fake boyfriend? And why me?"
She didn't miss a beat. "Because you're average."
"…Excuse me?"
"Unremarkable. Forgettable. Harmless. You're the perfect candidate."
If someone else had said that, I might've been offended. But Mei said it so matter-of-factly that it felt more like a medical diagnosis than an insult.
"And this… 'fake boyfriend' thing. Is it for a bet? A social experiment? Do I win a car?"
She exhaled softly, brushing back a strand of her long, jet-black hair. "There's a third-year who's been trying to ask me out repeatedly. He's persistent. He doesn't take no for an answer. I've rejected him directly, indirectly, and through carrier pigeon. Nothing works."
"…Carrier pigeon?"
"Metaphor. The point is—he won't stop unless I'm 'taken.' So I need someone to deter him. Publicly."
"And you think I'm scary enough to deter a stalker?"
"No," she said plainly. "But you're believable. No one would think you're acting. That's the key."
Ouch.
Still… I could see the logic. I was the human equivalent of a background prop. If I started dating someone, people would assume it was a miracle and never question it. Probably throw confetti.
"Okay, but what's in it for me?" I asked, mostly to delay giving an immediate yes.
She hesitated. Then, slowly, she reached into her bag… and pulled out a volume of "Magical Battle High School: Infinite Crisis Girls"—Limited Edition with foil cover.
My soul left my body.
"You… you read this?"
"I read everything."
"You collect these?"
"I own the full set. Plastic-sealed. Digitally and physically archived."
I leaned forward, eyes shimmering. "Marry me."
She blinked. "That would defeat the purpose of the fake relationship."
"Right. Sorry. Got ahead of myself."
I took a deep breath, still partially convinced this was some cosmic trick, and extended my hand.
"Okay, Kusunoki. Let's do this. I, Akiyama Haruki, will be your totally fake, completely unromantic, painfully average boyfriend."
She looked at my hand.
Then she gave it the most awkward handshake I've ever experienced. Like she had watched a tutorial on human interaction five minutes ago and was still buffering.
"This arrangement will begin tomorrow morning," she said. "At the front gates. I'll wait precisely three meters to the left of the main entrance. You will arrive at 7:53 AM. We will walk in together, slightly touching shoulders, but not hands."
"…You've planned this out?"
"Extensively. I've also created a Google Doc."
She paused, then added thoughtfully, "It's color-coded."
I had no idea what I had just signed up for.
But when I walked home that night, my heart was pounding.
Not because I was excited.
And not exactly because I was terrified either.
It was something else. A weird, fluttery tension in my chest.
I had gone to school expecting to sleepwalk through another day of irrelevance.
Instead, I ended it with the most beautiful girl in school as my fake girlfriend.
And somehow… that was only the beginning.