[The next morning]
Renjiro yawned so wide his jaw cracked, his messy hair sticking out at odd angles. He dragged his feet along the corridor like a zombie, muttering under his breath.
"I want soda so baddddd... just one can... or maybe two...?"
His eyes were half-shut from lack of sleep. Last night, he had barely made it back without getting caught—all thanks to Yugen, who stood waiting at the dorm entrance, scowling with arms crossed. Renjiro still remembered Yugen's quiet hiss of disapproval: "You're lucky I was here, idiot."
Renjiro let out another tired sigh as he turned the corner toward the classroom.
"Koizumi..."
He froze. A voice—gentle, careful—called out behind him.
Turning, Renjiro blinked and found himself face-to-face with Yukio.
"Oh! Hey... what's up?" Renjiro straightened immediately, forcing away the sluggishness, and flashed his usual cheerful smile.
"I... I'm fine."
But something was different.
Renjiro tilted his head, studying him. Yukio's face, usually tense or shadowed with worry, looked... softer. His complexion was brighter, his expression calm. His lips curved with the faintest of smiles, and his eyes—those sharp, guarded eyes—held a glow Renjiro had never seen before.
It was almost like a weight had been lifted off him overnight.
Renjiro's chest warmed. Isee... so it worked out after all.
His smile stretched wider, satisfaction bubbling up inside him. No wonder. When someone is truly loved—they shine without even knowing it.
Yukio shifted a little, as though nervous, before asking, "Um... would you... like to have lunch with me? If that's okay with you."
Renjiro blinked in surprise, then his face lit up instantly. "Of course, I'd love to!" He answered a little too eagerly.
For Yukio, it was a simple invitation. But for Renjiro? This was the grand prize.
He may not show it outwardly, but to Renjiro, this moment was like a sweet reward. His meddling, his sleepless night, his risks—it all paid off, after he helped nudge things in the right direction—this was more than enough to make his inner fudanshi heart sing.
Yukio's gentle smile lingered on him, and Renjiro felt it.
Later that afternoon, after lunch, they left the cafeteria together, still chatting about trivial things. As they walked down the corridor, a student suddenly approached, his expression serious.
"Kawaguchi-san," he said, looking directly at Yukio, "there's someone who wants to talk to you."
Yukio blinked. "Hm? Who?"
"They said you should go to this place. Alone." The boy handed over a small paper card, the kind used as a café's business card.
Yukio read it quietly. "... Blue Café."
His eyes flickered the moment the name left his lips. That place...
"I see. Thank you," he replied in a calm tone.
"Huh?!" Renjiro nearly jumped, his voice echoing in the hall. "Wait a minute, Yukio, you're just going to accept that and go there?!"
"Well," Yukio smiled wryly, "if someone went to the trouble of asking, I should at least meet them. It'd be rude not to show up."
"But—!"
"It's okay, Koizumi-san," Yukio cut him off gently. "I'm sure they just want to talk. I can't make them wait."
He gave a small nod of farewell before walking away, leaving Renjiro frozen in confusion.
Not long after, Yukio arrived at the café.
Through the glass window, he spotted her immediately. Sitting alone at a corner table, Mika waited, her back straight, her expression unreadable.
Steeling himself, Yukio stepped inside. He approached, offering a polite bow. "Good to see you again, Hashizawa-san "
Mika turned her head. Her gaze was sharp, laced with anger—and behind it, a storm of despair.
Yukio sat across from her silently.
Mika's lips trembled before she spoke, her tone low, controlled, yet cutting.
"... Why. Why does it have to be you?"
Her hands clenched tightly against the white tablecloth. "I'm his fiancée!" She burst out, voice cracking. Tears streamed down her cheeks, smearing her carefully set composure. "I told you before to stay away... and yet here you are!"
Yukio remained silent, his eyes steady on her.
"You even followed him and enrolled in the same school—!"
"He was the one who followed me."
Mika froze. "... What?"
"I did what you told me," Yukio said firmly, though his hand under the table shook as he clenched it into a fist. "I forced myself to stay away. I believed you—that I'd only be a burden to his future." His voice wavered as he bit his lips, the memory stinging.
"But I hated myself for it. For being a coward. For hurting him... when I couldn't stop loving him." He lifted his gaze, and his eyes softened, glimmering with unshakable truth.
"No matter how far I distance myself, my feelings won't change. I still love him."
The look in his eyes—gentle, resolute, overflowing with love—was what Mika had once dreamed of seeing for herself. Seeing it directed at someone else shattered her.
Her chest constricted. That should have been mine...
Her rage boiled over. Suddenly, Mika shoved her chair back and slammed her palm on the table, the cups rattling violently before crashing to the floor.
"AHHHHHH!" she screamed, startling everyone nearby. "Shut up! Shut your mouth! I don't want to hear it!"
"Hashizawa-san—"
"So what if he chose you?!" Her voice shook with fury. "You'll never make him happy! You're nothing but a—whore who ruins someone else's life!"
Her glare cut into him like a blade, her voice dripping with venom. "I hate people like you the most. You disgust me! Disgusting! I hope you die!"
Her hand shot out, seizing the silver cutlery in one swift, frenzied motion, and forced she lunged across the table, aiming straight for Yukio's face.
[!!]
Yukio flinched, frozen by the sudden flash of steel. But before it could touch him, another hand intercepted it with a harsh, resounding clash.
A gasp escaped Yukio as blood splattered across the table.
When he looked up, his heart stopped.
"Makoto—!"
Makoto stood before him, shielding him. The blade had pierced his palm, blood trailing down his arm in crimson streams. His jaw clenched, a sharp hiss escaping as the pain surged.
"M-Makoto-kun..." Mika's eyes widened in horror, her fury instantly replaced with terror. The cutlery slipped from her trembling hand as she stumbled back.
"... What have I...?"
Her lips quivered as she stared at the blood. Her own actions crashing down on her, she looked between the two boys—the man she loved, and the man he chose.
And in that single moment, she realized she had lost everything.
"Makoto!" Yukio cried, rushing to his side, his hands trembling as he tried to hold Makoto's bleeding arm. "You're hurt—!"
But Makoto shook his head, his expression steady despite the pain. His gaze wasn't on his wound. It was on Mika.
"Mika-chan..." His voice was low, heavy with sincerity.
She staggered back, her eyes wide, tears brimming. "M-Makoto-kun... I—I didn't mean—"
"You've always been important to me," Makoto continued, his voice firm but gentle. "You've always been there for me. You were like a family, a part of my life that I treasured. That's why I agreed when they told me we were engaged. I thought... maybe I could grow into it. Maybe I could learn to return your feelings the way you deserved."
Mika's lips trembled as she shook her head. "... Then why... why him and not me?"
"I've always loved you! Makoto, why, why?!"
Makoto's eyes softened, his voice steady as truth poured out of him. "Because with Yukio, I never had to force it. I never had to 'try' to love him. From the very beginning, my heart chose him. I looked for him even when I told myself I shouldn't. I can't put this feelings into words properly, but all I know is that—I could no longer take it being away from him."
Yukio's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat as he felt Makoto's words reach him.
Makoto lowered his gaze briefly, his blood dripping onto the café floor. "I hurt both of you because I was too afraid to speak the truth. I wanted to please my family, everyone, to protect you, and Yukio. But in the end, I only made things worse." He raised his eyes again, meeting hers with painful honesty.
"I'm so sorry, Mika-chan. I'm sorry for giving you hope, for letting this engagement string you along. You didn't deserve any of this. I should've treated you better and told you."
"You deserved more. Someone who could give you their whole heart."
Mika's tears fell freely now, blurring her vision. "Then... then all this time... I never had a chance?"
Makoto's chest tightened at her words, but he answered without hesitation. "I'm sorry. I just couldn't..."
Mika shook, a broken sob escaping as she covered her face with her trembling hands. The anger that had once consumed her gave way to grief—a crushing realization that no matter how much she screamed, she couldn't make him hers.
Makoto turned slightly toward Yukio, his eyes softening despite the pain wracking his arm.
"... But with Yukio. I know what I want. I choose him. I'll keep choosing him, even if it means facing everything that comes with it."
Yukio's lips parted, his heart thundering in his chest. For so long, he had longed to hear those words.
Makoto turned back to Mika, bowing his head despite the blood still dripping from his hand. "Please... forgive me. You can be mad at me but don't involve Yukio. None of this was his fault—it was mine."
Mika's sobs quieted into silence. She stared at him through tear-strained lashes, her chest aching with unbearable weight.
"I ask of you... please, let me break off our engagement. I'll take responsibility for everything that will happen after."
That shattered her far more deeply than her rage ever could. It was over.
Not long after, Yukio brought Makoto to the hospital. Thankfully, the wound was not critical—serious, yes, but not life threatening. Yukio finally allowed himself to exhale, his shoulders trembling from the tension that had coiled there ever since he saw the blood.
He had already informed the school of what happened, but his mind couldn't let go of that moment—the instant Makoto's hand blocked Mika's strike.
When Makoto was released from the hospital, the two of them walked back to the academy together. Makoto's hand was tightly bandaged, his fingers stiff, but his expression carried a gentle warmth.
Yukio, noticing the small smile on his lips, asked quietly, "What are you smiling about?"
Makoto flexed his patched hand slightly before answering, his voice tender. "Nothing. I guess I'm just relieved... that even though something like this happened, I was with you at least. I'm so happy—it almost feels like a dream."
Yukio's eyes softened, his chest tightening as his vision blurred faintly.
"I just hope," Makoto continued, his voice lowering as if confessing a secret, "I never wake up from this dream. Because I'm scared what I'd do if you're not here with me, Yukio."
He reached out with his good hand, capturing Yukio's hand tightly, as though anchoring himself to him. His grip trembled faintly—fear woven into the strength of his hold.
"When I heard that you went to meet with Mika-chan," Makoto admitted, "I suddenly felt scared. I knew that she might hurt you. Because I chose you, and couldn't let go. I didn't want either of you to suffer because of me. But in the end, I ended up hurting you both."
"Makoto..."
Makoto gently lifted Yukio's hand and pressed it to his lips, kissing it with all the quiet desperation he felt. His voice cracked slightly.
"I'm sorry, Yukio. Because of me, you had to go through that. I'm so sorry."
Yukio's heart squeezed at the sight of his guilt. With a small, pained smile, he leaned forward and drew Makoto into his arms, embracing him tightly. "No. Don't apologize. You protected me—like you've always done. If anything, I should be the one to say sorry. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be hurt like this."
Makoto chuckled softly, his grin crooked but full of warmth. "This wound... it's nothing compared to the pain I gave you before. But losing you... that would've left a scar I could never erase."
He pressed his forehead against Yukio's, their breaths mingling in the closeness his voice carried the weight of an oath. "I promise you, Yukio... I'll always love you. And I'll always be with you.",
Yukio's chest tightened, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of Makoto's words sink into his very core. In that moment, the fear, the chaos, the pain—all of it faded beneath the strength of their love.
The next day at school, news of the incident hadn't spread widely yet—only a few whispers in the teachers' office and hushed tones among the students.
When Renjiro finally spotted them walking together down the corridor, his eyes immediately caught sight of Makoto's hand, wrapped neatly in layers of white bandages.
"Eh?! Yano!" Renjiro gasped, rushing over. "What happened to your hand?!"
Makoto gave a small, sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck with his other hand. "Ah, this? It's nothing big. Just... a little accident, you could say."
Renjiro's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Nothing big?! You call having your hand patched up like that nothing big?!"
Yukio chuckled softly beside him, his eyes glancing at Makoto with quiet affection.
"Don't worry, Koizumi-san. The doctor said, it may be worse but it'll heal soon enough. We were able to go to the hospital quickly so, he'll be fine."
Makoto nodded, and without realizing it, his hand drifted closer to Yukio's, their fingers brushing before locking together naturally. It was such a subtle gesture, but Renjiro caught it instantly
He paused, his initial panic melting into a warm smile. For a moment, he simply observed—their hands clasped firmly, the way Yukio's gaze softened whenever he looked at Makoto as though he's presence was the only thing grounding him.
Renjiro's chest swelled with quiet joy.
He exhaled softly and smile to himself. In his mind, he whispered words only he could hear: I'm glad. Truly glad.
Renjiro tucked his hands into his pockets, his grin widening with satisfaction. Just as I expected... the ending I longed to witness is right before my eyes.