#also I made the executive decision of doing long hair Curt because A) It’s my drawing and I can do what I want and B) I love the idea that

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 4: Haunted

[olga-eulalia]

Notes: Without having gotten an opinion on this thing, my decision to go ahead and post it anyway may not be a wise one, but... Maybe someone out there has any tips on how to improve it or knows someone who wouldn’t mind looking over a wip like this?

Unbeta’d OT3 WIP. PG-13. Pre-S4. (SilverMadi, SilverFlint, MadiFlint as of now) Warnings: Non-native speaker writing here.

Find the updated version here.

I.

On an island where access to goods was limited, a decent bottle of rum was hard to come by, but as it happened, two crew members had availed themselves of the secret stash of one of their mates, and in order to put an end to the ensuing altercation, Silver had taken swift action and confiscated the disputed item. He was fairly certain he could put it to better use.

As, just that afternoon, he'd managed to counter one of his teacher’s elaborate attacks with success for the first time since his lessons had begun almost two months ago. Granted, the execution may have been a bit sloppy, but it was as good a reason for celebration as any.

Wrapping both arms around her middle while she put hers around his neck, he pulled Madi flush against him and, ignoring the twinge of pain in his leg, lifted her off the ground just to hear her languorous ungh at the feel of his strength. His lips slid over the sweet curve of her chin and over the plush shape of her mouth hungrily, starting a kiss that continued long after her initial indulgence had transformed into something much more demanding.

Then he told her.

“So you’re making progress,” she said.

They'd had variations of this conversation before. She didn't like the fact that he was becoming enamoured with the idea of entering the thick of battle himself. She, too, knew that fate was cruel, that skill and cleverness did not protect against stray bullets.

So by the time he made his way across the settlement, his giddiness had somewhat diminished and he actually caught himself wondering how likely it was that Flint would receive his gift with an equal lack of enthusiasm.

At this hour, the voices of the forest had grown loud. A breeze was ruffling through the palm fronds that stood in black tufts against the sunset's afterglow, brushing through his undone hair and snaking over the exposed skin at his throat and arms, less hot now that evening turned into night.

Flint's small thatched hut, much frequented and often crammed full of people during daytime, finally stood in solitude, lit in the dim flickering light of nearby torches.

"Can I come in?" Silver asked, poised to open the entrance door.

A groan was audible through the delicate timber structure. It was followed by a grumble that sounded a lot like, "When are you gonna give me a moment's peace?" Stripped of coat and boots, Flint had laid himself down to rest and was barely willing to do more than lift an eyelid when Silver entered. “All right. Who threw the first punch this time?”

“Please,” Silver said, pushing the door closed. “You know I’d never bother you with something as trivial as that.”

Among the jumbled items and stacks of paper on the table that stood between them, Silver found two cups which he arranged on either side, positioning the bottle of rum smack in the middle. A flame in the vicinity gave off sooty smoke, sputtering on its wick.

Flint’s smirk came on slowly. Demonstrating true resilience by placing his naked feet back on the dirt floor and abandoning his bed, he took a seat at the table across from Silver.

They had sat together like this on several occasions, assembling military troops into various constellations on a grander scale than ever before. Flint assessing people based on their merit in battle, Silver providing the information on who could actually work together as a unit. To be taken into confidence by a man as formidable as Flint was nothing if not intoxicating. Whereas other people received precise orders and curt statements from Flint, Silver was there to observe their germination.

Even now, when in less than two weeks they were going to make their move against Rogers and invade Nassau in a painstakingly rehearsed attack to reclaim their home, the experience had lost none of its potency.

"I'd sleep more soundly if we had five ships," Flint said, clearing some space by gathering paper into a pile.

"I thought you said you could do it with three ships."

"I could,” Flint stated. “Under ideal circumstances. But one has to account for all eventualities." He glanced at Silver, making sure the allusion did not go unnoticed.

"So how do you propose we get that fifth ship? Steal it? Coerce its captain and bribe the crew while we're at it?"

"I was thinking we ought to take a more practical approach this time,” Flint mused, slowly leaning in and reaching for the bottle, “and advertise for it in the newspaper.”

Caught off guard, Silver all but choked on a laugh. Flint’s delighted chuckle was short like a hiccup. There was no telling whether it would ever stop feeling strange to joke around with the most feared pirate captain in the New World.

Uncorking the bottle, Flint began to explain, “Good old Captain Hewe once did, almost six years ago now, but it actually turned out not quite how everyone thought it would...”

As it so often did, their conversation went on a tangent about Nassau's past and its colourful denizens. Silver listened to Flint's stories besottedly, flushed by drink. One or two of them sounded familiar already, but, as always, it was the telling that he found himself swept up in. Following every cadence and gesture like the melodious course of a river was a pleasure not to be missed. But he’d be deceiving himself if he didn’t admit that he’d trade the life stories of fifty pirates for just one more about Flint’s past.

Once again, he found himself puzzling over Flint’s relationship with Thomas, how they’d been with each other, who had encouraged who in the months leading up to Flint's exile. There were so many questions he wanted to ask about the Hamiltons, but after the second time he'd done so, he knew better than to mention the name. Though he wanted to hoard every last piece of information about them, he understood that he had no right to ask for so much when he himself was unwilling to part with even a little of what was deemed so important by Flint.

Before long, the talk swerved back to the topic that no one on the island could escape from for even an hour, and Flint said, looking down into his cup momentarily, "We can't afford to screw this up."

It was an utterly ludicrous notion to Silver that defeat should feature in Flint’s considerations at all. Which was probably the biggest pointer to the fact that he’d spent so much time bolstering his captain’s confidence that he himself appeared to have lost the ability to doubt him altogether.  

But Silver couldn’t bring himself to be bothered about it tonight. He had sunk down in his chair and had his chin propped up on the pad of his thumb, one finger tucked between his lips. It was that last detail that trapped Flint’s gaze when his thoughts went straying.

And it was that half-forlorn, half-hungry look on Flint’s face reminiscent of a mangy creature that drew Silver out of the comfort of his chair.

Supporting his steps by leaning his weight against the table, he moved along its edge to stand in front of Flint, who looked up at him, blinking slowly. With the intention of speaking his words in the most emphatic manner possible, Silver put his hand on the back of Flint’s chair and leaned down. But then instead, because it seemed the more encouraging thing to do, leaned down a little further and placed a kiss on Flint's brow.

And then another on the shy curve of his cheek. And, invited by a subtle lift of Flint’s chin, on his lips as well. They were soft and generous in the thicket of that ginger beard, hot and humid. Silver, welcomed by a sigh like a breath, settled in to take a long taste of them. Surprised by the surge of want that ripped through him with a force that seemed at odds with the tender nature of his affection and filled his body to the brim with exhilaration until he felt himself on the precipice of something beautiful, yet terrifying.

Both of them were breathing hard by the time they paused. Flint took that opportunity to turn his head away and then make a retreat to his bed where he sat down heavily, putting his head against the wall and sprawling his limbs as though the strength had gone out of them.

He looked terribly young in that moment, his skin gilded by the light, glowing in warm hues of amber. “If, for whatever reason, it does go pear-shaped,” he said, “I don’t want you in the fray.”

Grabbing both their cups, Silver followed him to his bed and sat down next to him. “Is that why you’ve been teaching me how to fight for all these weeks?” he asked. “Jesus Christ. Am I truly that bad at it?”

Flint didn’t take the bait. “Please don’t deliberately misunderstand me on this issue. We need someone to continue the fight.”

“Who’s we?” Silver asked, upset that he hadn’t been able to divert Flint’s thoughts from going down that path. He certainly wasn’t going to fall in line behind Teach, whose sole motivation for being part of their invasion force was revenge, and who was not remotely interested in any of their nobler goals. A war needed a leader in possession of not just competence and daring, but also a greater vision. Something that Billy, too, regrettably lacked. “As much as that may sound like just another bout of sentimentality, there will be no fight without you,” he said, shoving Flint’s cup at him so that its contents slopped over, adding, "You're a lousy drunk.”

"Says the man who just got all sentimental.”

Silver didn’t reply, silenced by his inability to deny the accusation, filled with a maddening sense of agitation.

They probably could’ve lived as though the kiss had never happened, lived with it as with the memory of a dream. But now, after having that glimpse of how they could be, Silver was less than convinced that they should.

II.

Standing in grainy ocean water, looking at the horizon, he found himself in possession of both his feet. That was how he knew he was dreaming. That was how he knew he needn’t be afraid of the wave that was building itself to an immense height out there on the shoal, moving towards the beach with unhesitating swiftness where it eclipsed the sun’s light. As its foaming crest was towering above him, he felt confident that he needn’t draw breath either, but even in his dreams his body followed its own logic and made him take a big gulp of air just as the whole weight of the wave fell down upon him like a mountain and submerged him in cold, dark depth.

He gasped, awakened by Madi’s touch on his shoulder.

“Sorry. Bad dream,” he said, squinting into the light of the lantern dangling from the ceiling. Failing to grasp her withdrawing hand, he tried to communicate a grateful smile.

“What are you doing, John?” she whispered. She was crouching by the bed, a frown tucked between her eyebrows.

Befuddled as he was, it took him a moment to remember that he’d promised her to be back by midnight and that, judging by the candles’ heights, it was considerably later than that. It took him even longer to realize that he was still in Flint’s hut, in Flint’s bed, with Flint’s body pressed against him, faint gusts of breath coming down over the slope of his neck.

“I fell asleep,” he said by way of apology, tugging his shirt collar back into place and fishing about for his prosthetic leg on the floor, experiencing a spike of panic when it took him several attempts to find it.

All that shifting about stirred Flint awake as well, who sat upright with a small noise of discomfort. “Madi?” Initially confused by her presence in his hut, it didn’t take long for him to make the connection.

“What happened here?” she demanded to know, once Silver was sitting, squeezing his left leg into its leather contraption, and Flint had slid out of bed.

“I kissed him,” Silver said preemptively, surprising all of them.

“You kissed him,” Madi repeated, then drew in a large breath so that her collarbones stood in stark relief. She threw a doubtful look at both of them as she tried to sort through her thoughts. “Show me how,” she said.

“I don’t think that’s a--”

“Not you,” she silenced Silver, holding up a hand. “You,” she said, meaning Flint.

Looking at the situation through her eyes, Silver wouldn’t trust himself to be truthful either. “You can’t expect him to do that.”

“Please,” she addressed Flint, cutting Silver out of the discussion entirely. “I need to know.”

It was difficult to say whether it was the tone of command in her voice and the sense of duty it inspired or whether it was something else entirely that compelled Flint to indulge her demand. Straightening his posture, he stepped closer to her. Stalling, brushing his beard into shape with a stroke of his hand, he gave her time to reconsider. Because it was obvious by the way she was fidgeting with the bangle on her left wrist that she wasn’t entirely convinced of her own request, confronted with Flint’s closeness like this. However, she wasn’t one to back down either.

Perhaps Silver should have said something then, but looking at the two of them standing together with barely an inch of light between them, Flint in his black shirt and breeches, Madi in her pale blouse and skirt, he was dazed by the brunt of their beauty, the shapeliness of their figures, the refinement of their features. He was hesitant to breathe, fearing it might disperse the image like an illusion.

Then, with deliberation, Flint began to reenact Silver’s kisses one by one. But while the first made Madi bite back a smile, the second turned her expression contemplative again. Despite her clear order, Flint searched for permission in her eyes to continue, to eventually bend his head and kiss her on the lips, moving his jaw slowly as she opened her mouth ever so slightly to deepen the kiss.

Silver gripped the bedspread with both hands. He was struck to see that none of the intensity he’d felt had been imagined and that not one of his caresses had gone unremembered by Flint.

When it ended, Madi was blinking rapidly. “I need air,” she said.

With his lips in a tight line, Flint watched her leave. Then he shook his head. “All that time we spent together--” He picked an empty cup off the floor and set it down on the table, hard. “You couldn’t even deign to tell me this?”

“You never asked.” Silver finished fastening the strap around his calf, pinching his skin in the haste of the moment.

Flint paused. “Probably because I didn’t want to hear the answer. Probably because I didn’t want to hear. That you love her.”

“I do,” Silver confirmed, because it was the truth. “But I--” he quickly went on to say in the same breath, only to find that he couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t hand over his feelings to Flint just like that.

Flint watched him try to shape the words that wouldn’t come, then looked him in the eye, understanding and leniency softening his expression. “You should go after her,” he said. A final move.

Silver acknowledged his defeat in this, brought about by his own cowardice, and followed Madi out of the door where he found her standing only a few steps away.

“I heard what you said,” she let him know, the weight of her gaze sinking into him like two dark pebbles.

Around the corner of the hut and down a gentle slope, he followed her to the little inland lake at whose edge the Maroons had built their new existence. Its surface stirred in the night breeze, appearing alive with the reflection of orange flame and white moonlight. A couple of toy boats lay beached there in the mud.

“There are things that I want,” Madi began, all of her emotion seemingly contained in the straight line of her back as she looked out across the water. “Things that would seem irreconcilable with the position I occupy. And there are other things that I want, things that seem to exclude one another by their very nature. But I’ve come to realize that they don’t. That, once the necessary struggle is overcome, it’s apparent that one thing always contains the other and that they are never separable to begin with.”

Gathering her skirts, she bent down to set one of the miniature rafts afloat.

Together, in the gentle caress of night, they watched its white sail bob up and down on rippling waves that soon ushered it back towards shore where he retrieved it for her. Her hand lingering on his, she faced him.

“Why are you deliberately keeping the two halves of your life separate, John? Discovering you so torn makes me doubt I ever knew you truly. You must realize that being so divided within yourself you can never hope to love with your whole heart.”

“I just can’t see how to make it work.”

“All it takes is a decision.”

He wasn’t entirely sure he understood her in this. “I don’t think this is my decision to make.”

“I’m telling you. It is,” she said and, after a moment’s hesitation, reached out to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye that had squeezed out unbidden when her words had unknotted some nameless tension within him. “I’ve made mine already.”

“Is she not taking you back?” Flint asked, failing to affect a neutral tone, when Silver cautiously stepped back into his abode a little while later. He appeared to be occupied with taking notes, but too many words had been crossed out on the slip of paper lying in front of him for it to be of any use.

“No, she is.” Silver gripped the back of the chair with one hand, unsure whether he should take a seat.

Flint studied him. “Then what are you doing here?” He wiped the quill dry with a stained rag and then set both aside. There was no malice in his words.

A multitude of unanswered questions had driven Silver to return, but he saw perfectly well that he couldn’t keep demanding answers without offering some of his own. “I came to apologize,” he said, “for not telling you about Madi and me.”

Flint ran his fingertips across his brow, leaving small traces of ink there. By his intake of breath Silver could tell that he was bottling a lengthy sigh.

Flint had been patient with him, but he didn’t know that Silver had spent so much time living from hand to mouth, protecting what little he had in whichever way he could that, at some point, he’d falsely come to believe that any sharing that did not yield explicit gain was equal to a loss. And that he’d only recently come to understand that other people had no such difficult relationship with the concept. That both Madi and Flint might not see his affection for them diminished in any way if they knew that they both had it.

So he continued.

“For not inviting you in,” he said, “when you are clearly as much a part of my life as she is.”

Flint, less stunned and much more scrutinizing in response than expected, leaned back in his chair. “You said she was taking you back,” he mulled over. “On what condition?”

[renna-translations]

Picture Book of My First Love (Chapter 3)

This is beyond late, but here it is!

Here’s the third chapter of the novel adaption of HoneyWorks’ “Hatsukoi no Ehon (Picture Book of My First Love)“ about the president of the Art Club, Miou, and the Film Club’s star, Haruki. The two third years from Sakuragaoka High School walk home together every day, but Miou is too shy to tell him her feelings. While helping with his movie, Miou asks him, “Do you have a crush on anyone?” and to her great surprise, Haruki answers, “I do.” And what’s more, Haruki confesses to Natsuki, his childhood friend?!

Masterpost with links to all the translated chapters can be found here. You can find the masterpost with all the Confession Executive Committee/Sound of Confession series-related translations here.

←Chapter 2　|　Chapter 4→

＊If you can, I highly encourage supporting the creators by buying the book for yourself at Amazon!

——

Chapter 3

Summer was nearing its end, and the autumn bugs were starting to make themselves heard amongst the cries of the cicadas at sunset.

Feeling a cool breeze brush against his neck, Haruki looked up from his laptop.

The lights in the room were on, but he hadn’t noticed them come on, and Souta, who should have been sitting next to him editing the script, was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’d turned the lights on his way out, since Haruki was still staying behind to work.

“....Crap, what time is it now?”

“Almost time for the school to be locked up for the day.”

Having not expected to hear a reply, Haruki startled in his seat on his folding chair.

Akechi Saku, his homeroom teacher, as well as the Film Club advisor, peered in from the doorway. Although he was in charge of teaching Classical Japanese, he always wore a white labcoat as part of his uniform for some reason, and even now, it stood out in the dim light.

“Just you? Where’s Setoguchi and Mochizuki?”

Akechi came inside, his sandals making slapping sounds against the tile floor.

Haruki had been startled by Akechi’s sudden appearance, but that ridiculous sound, paired with that monotone voice, made him let out a sigh.

“Yuu has prep school, and Mochita…. probably went home.”

“Probably? Ah, I see…. You didn’t even notice when he told you he was heading home, huh?”

As a teacher, Akechi didn’t bother with touching on the fact that Haruki, as usual, spoke so casually towards him.

They were well-acquainted due to Akechi being a friend of Haruki’s older brother, but more than anything, it was mostly because Haruki didn’t care. Akechi had to go as far as telling him, “Call me ‘Sensei’ when we’re at school.”

‘In the first place, he hardly even seems like a teacher.’

As Akechi peered over at the laptop screen with great interest, both his hands stuffed into the pockets of his lab coat, he didn’t look all that different from Haruki and the others. At best, he might pass for a graduate student, but he hardly seemed like an adult at all.

It wasn’t because he had a baby face or anything, but perhaps because he gave off the impression of being aloof and unworldly.

‘Although to put it in one word, I’d say he looks downright shady.’

“Huh? What, so you were just checking over your movie?”

‘….I want to say, ‘What did you think I was looking at?’ but that’d be like admitting defeat.’

As Haruki started to put away his laptop in silence, Akechi, who must have found his reaction boring, reached over to place a hand on his shoulder.

Before Haruki could shrug his off, Akechi lowered his voice to say,

“When a high school boy is staring intently at something in a dark room all alone, it’s usually…. You know what I mean, right?”

“No one asked!”

As Haruki made that retort while actually shaking him off this time, Akechi moved away with a light laugh.

“If you’re making rounds, hurry up and get going already.”

“My turn to do that isn’t until tomorrow.”

“What? Then seriously, what’d you even come here for?”

“Why, to do my job as an advisor, of course.”

Noticing that Akechi’ had suddenly lowered his tone, Haruki paused and turned around.

As Haruki stared back at him, Akechi gave a small nod.

“You made it through the preliminaries for the contest.”

“....Cool.”

“Hopefully, you’ll be able to keep this up and win.”

“....Yeah.”

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic. What, aren’t you happy about that?”

“.....”

Having run out of curt, one-word responses, Haruki fell into an awkward silence.

The contest that he’d passed the preliminaries for this time had a prize that he wanted more than anything.

The winner would be given the chance to study abroad.

‘Although, even if I don’t win, I still plan on studying abroad.’

Still, he’d prefer to keep any conflict with those around him to a minimum if possible.

If his movie gained recognition, and a university from overseas recruited him—

If that happened, both the school and his parents would be sure to understand.

At the very least, it would go a whole lot smoother than simply proposing that he wanted to go study at a film school overseas.

‘Then…. why am I suddenly hesitating now….?’

“You still have something holding you back here, don’t you?”

Haruki startled. The timing with which Akechi said this made it seem as if he’d read his mind.

Akechi was smirking again, and staring in his direction.

“....I thought I told you to quit watching people like that.”

Haruki glared back at him, but Akechi’s grin only widened.

Haruki didn’t have to ask to know why. He was smiling as if to say, “I guessed right, didn’t I?”

‘It’s frustrating that I only realized after having Saku-nii point it out, but….’

Haruki had figured out that he did indeed have something holding him back, and also what that something was.

At the same time, seeing as how he’d needed someone to point it out, he realized that he had been unconsciously trying to deny it.

“A wise man once said, ‘What is done cannot be undone.’ And also, ‘You never know what you have until it’s gone.’”

Hearing him say this so clearly made Haruki look up, but Saku was already at the door.

He turned around, and for once, he wore an expression that actually made him look like a teacher.

“With that said, do your best to enjoy your youth.”

How does what you said have anything to do with that?

Haruki wanted to make that retort, but in the end, he just silently watched him go.

Now that he was all alone, the room was almost disturbingly quiet.

❀　❁　❀　❁　❀

When he stopped to think about it, summer had gone by so quickly this year.

By the time they’d finished shooting the extra scenes, and started to compile everything together, the new term was already beginning.

Students were starting to adjust their school uniforms for the changing seasons, with short sleeves being swapped out for long ones.

‘Damn, I feel like time just keeps slipping by….’

Haruki tousled the hair on the back of his head as he walked down the empty hallway.

It was a habit of his to walk around the school when he was stuck on ideas.

For some strange reason, he found he was able to think better only after forcefully emptying his mind.

“I mean, it’s the same with computers, too. They run better if you free up more space.”

“Now, if only you had a function to come back on your own, it’d be perfect.”

Souta nodded in agreement while Yuu smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

As soon as Haruki came up with an idea, he would start taking notes on the spot to make sure he wouldn’t forget, so often times, he wouldn’t come back for close to an hour. Whenever that happened, the other two would come looking for him.

‘Honestly, they’re such good sports~’

Maybe it was because of the ventilation, or the fact that the window was open a crack, but he could the voices of the Baseball Club from outside.

‘....Sounds like there’s even less of them running around out there.’

With all the third years retiring from the sports clubs, it made sense that there were only the first and second years left behind.

Due to the fact that the Film Club was a culture club, Haruki and the others planned to keep going with their club activities up until graduation, though they had already given up their positions of president and vice president to their juniors.

‘Graduation, huh….? It still hasn’t sunk in….’

The film that he was in the midst of working on right now also doubled as his graduation project.

Haruki didn’t really pay attention to the theme of “graduation,” but it was different for Yuu and Souta.

Once they’d reaffirmed the importance of their roles, and the significance of the three of them creating something together, they worked actively for that goal. Souta, who was in charge of the script, had worked particularly hard in writing a touching love story about a first year heroine who was in love with a graduating upperclassman.

‘....I’m positive that this film will be a turning point for me.’

Lately, every time he picked up the camera, and every time he received an award, his feeling of impatience would grow stronger.

Isn’t this just a rehash of what I did last time? Is there even any point to what I’m filming?

It felt like his focus was blurring the more he thought about it, which only made him panic even more. And the more he panicked, the less confidence he had in his decisions. Before he knew it, he was stuck in a vicious cycle.

But if he was with those two, he just might be able to break free from this cycle.

He’d be able to exceed the limits that he’d placed on himself, and reach a new domain.

‘More importantly, I want to meet their standards….’

That was how he felt, but lately, things were starting to feel uneasy between the three of them.

In particular, something must have happened with Yuu over summer vacation, because he was a lot quicker to anger now.

During yesterday’s meeting, as well, they had started out talking about how Akari was progressing with the artwork, and somehow the conversation had shifted to their love lives.

Haruki had been the first one to bring it up.

But, after hearing Souta say that Akari was his first love, Haruki had only said, “Yuu, like you’re one to talk when you can’t even face your first love,” without any special meaning behind his words.

‘....No, that isn’t true.’

To be honest, he had been trying to shake him up a bit.

If Yuu was going to torture himself by playing along with Natsuki’s confession rehearsals without even confirming her feelings first, he might as well be honest about his own feelings for her.

“Speaking of which.… Haruki, how are things between you and Aida?”

“Same as usual? Or, well actually, she said she can’t walk home with me for a while.”

Yuu must have wanted to get back at him by bringing up Miou.

That’s why Haruki had told him the truth. He’d actually received that text from Miou before summer vacation had started, but he saw no reason to go into that much detail.

“....Actually, Haruki and Aida aren’t even going out with each other, right?”

“Ah, I wanted to ask about that, too.”

Contrary to his expectations, Yuu refused to back down, and Souta had joined in, as well.

He knew full well that no harm would come from answering that question.

In the first place, there was nothing going on between him and Miou, so there was nothing to hide.

He was certain that Yuu and Souta were already aware of Haruki’s feelings towards Miou. Just like how Haruki had figured out their crushes, it was just something obvious after spending so much time with each other.

It was a good opportunity to make things clear.

But another part of him immediately objected.

The reason that Yuu asked about Miou was because he’d been misunderstanding something.

After Natsuki had told him about her confession “rehearsals,” Yuu thought that she planned to confess to someone other than him.

And it would seem that Haruki was being treated as being one of the possible candidates.

‘I wondered why he thinks it’s me, but for Natsuki, it must be hard just to find someone she’d confess to.’

While it was obviously because the one Natsuki liked was none other than Yuu, there wasn’t any gossip of her being around other guys. Even if she hung out with Haruki and the others, everyone knew that they were childhood friends, so there was nothing surprising about that.

But Yuu knew better than anyone that childhood friends were no exception.

That was probably why he saw Haruki as a rival.

‘Anyway, isn’t he being a bit too narrow minded?’

If Haruki wanted to be indifferent about this, it really didn’t matter to him what misunderstandings Yuu had.

But to be honest, he didn’t like the way Yuu just went around collecting information to reassure himself instead of just telling Natsuki how he felt.

‘Although, Natsuki backed out at the last minute too, calling it a rehearsal and all….’

Still, there was no denying that she’d taken a small step forward, and would probably go for the real thing in the near future.

That’s why Haruki didn’t want Yuu taking the easy way out.

“And what would be the point in asking? If I told you that I was going out with Aida…. No, that’s not right. If I said that I liked anyone other than Natsuki, would you feel relieved? And then what?”

What’ll you do once you know that I’m not the one Natsuki likes?

Go and confess to her yourself. If you don’t, nothing’s going to change.

Haruki stared at Yuu without saying another word.

On the other hand, Yuu was at a loss for words, and could only stare blankly back at Haruki.

The silence continued for a while, and a tense atmosphere enveloped the club room.

It was only due to Souta being there that a definite rift didn’t open up between them.

Souta, who had been quietly observing the situation, didn’t blame Haruki for his provocation, but he didn’t try to smooth things over, either.

He just gave them a chance to change the subject by saying, “Aren’t you guys hungry?”

‘And after this, apparently Ayase hit him with a counter punch….’

At the ramen shop they’d gone to, for some reason, Koyuki had joined them to make a table of four.

It was due to Souta inviting him that had made this unlikely gathering a reality.

“Yukki! Wait no, I mean, Ayase-kun! Are you free right now? Wanna come eat ramen with us?”

“Ahaha, you can call me Yukki if you’d like. Ramen? Sure, I’d love to.”

Souta was fascinated with the way Koyuki had transformed himself, so he probably couldn’t help but call out to him when recognizing him from afar.

Koyuki had seemed surprised about the sudden invitation, but he accepted with a smile on his face.

Haruki just saw it as their party size increasing by one, and wasn’t particularly affected.

Yuu, however, had an unusually sour look on his face.

Haruki guessed that meant something really had taken place between him and Koyuki over the summer break, and feeling that this was the perfect opportunity, he patted Yuu smartly on the back.

“Well isn’t this a great opportunity? To have a nice man-to-man talk, that is.”

And just as Haruki had predicted, Yuu and Haruki had a one-to-one confrontation.

After they’d finished eating and left the ramen shop, Koyuki had pulled Yuu aside to talk about something.

‘Well, it’s probably about Natsuki…. I wonder what they’ve got planned.’

The fastest way would be for Natsuki to move on from her confession rehearsals and move forward with the real thing.

But Haruki knew it wasn’t very reasonable to expect that of her.

Natsuki was one of his precious childhood friends. He would support her, but he couldn’t force her to do anything.

Koyuki was free to confess his feelings to her if he wanted to. He could already see the outcome, but who could have the heart to tell him to keep them to himself just because it would make things complicated?

Thunk.

The sudden noise made Haruki stop in his tracks.

He was so lost in thought, for a moment, he had no idea where he was.

Looking around, he caught sight of the sign with the classroom number.

‘Huh, isn’t this Yuu’s class….?’  

Casually peeking inside, Haruki spotted a familiar bun-shaped hairstyle.

He immediately felt something was out of place, seeing that Natsuki was sitting in Yuu’s seat.

Natsuki had her face down on the desk, and wasn’t moving an inch.

‘Wait, hold up, she’s not crying or anything, is she?’

He considered just walking away, but his curiosity led him to enter the classroom.

“Natsuki? What’re you doing?”

Suddenly having someone call her name must have given her a scare, making her jump up from the seat with a startled scream.

Haruki casually checked Natsuki’s face, but it showed no signs of any crying.

He felt relief, just as his agitated childhood friend addressed him.

“H-Haruki? What’s up? Did you forget something? Wait, this isn’t even your class.”

“Wow, good job on delivering your own punchline. So Natsuki, what are you doing at Yuu’s desk?”

Haruki knew that it was a rather insensitive question to ask, but he still came out and said it.

And just as he’d expected, Natsuki turned beet red.

She probably hadn’t expected him to know it was Yuu’s desk, seeing how they were in different classes. Natsuki waved her hands around defensively, and only managed to stutter out, “No, um, this isn’t…”

‘I see, so that means she was sitting at Yuu’s desk on purpose.’

If not, she wouldn’t be overreacting like this right now.

Since she could have just replied with something like, “I was just borrowing his seat,” or “Oh, I didn’t know this was Yuu’s desk,” there could only be one reason why she was so flustered.

‘Well, not that I plan on pointing out every little thing.’

Deciding that he’d retrieve his dictionary now that he was already here, Haruki walked up to Yuu’s desk.

Yuu was supposed to return it once their club activities were over, but he probably wouldn’t mind giving it back a little earlier than that.

‘And it’ll give me an excuse for having come to this classroom.’

Haruki motioned for Natsuki to make room, seeing how she was just standing there awkwardly.

“Well, I just came to take back something I let him borrow. Excuse me.”

“Ah, right….”

The inside of Yuu’s desk was as tidy as usual, and he found the dictionary he was looking for right away.

The cover of the dictionary that his brother had handed down to him was all worn out, clearly showing that it had been used a lot. After the ownership had been passed to Haruki, it had been stuck full of sticky notes and memos between its pages, increasing its thickness.

“….An English dictionary?”

“Mm, yeah. We got an extra assignment to do.”

“Ahh! Right, Haruki, you’ve always been terrible at English, huh?”

“Shut up. I’m telling ya, I’ll be totally fluent one of these days.”

He heard Natsuki let out a sigh at his usual joking reply.

It would be easy to keep pretending he didn’t know anything, but he suddenly recalled Yuu and Koyuki from the day before.

It didn’t make sense for Natsuki’s timing to confess be affected by their situation.

He’d only just been thinking about not getting so involved a moment ago, but in the end, it still bothered him.

‘It’s fine if I just give her a little push, right….?’

“And what about you? Those confession rehearsals… Still not ready for the real deal yet?”

“….W-Well…. about that….”

Natsuki’s shoulders gave a jolt at having the conversation suddenly focused on her, and she looked visibly flustered.

He had heard that she’d been busy with the art contest since the beginning of July, and the confession rehearsals had been put on hold. But now that she was only waiting for the results to come out, she couldn’t keep using that excuse.

He was certain that Natsuki knew full well of that herself.

“….Sorry to disappoint you.”

Seeing Natsuki’s shoulders slump dejectedly, Haruki felt a little bad for asking.

‘There’s probably two reasons she’s apologizing….’

One was because she’d let the confession end as a rehearsal, and the other was because she still couldn’t move forward with the real thing.

Perhaps it was the fact that Haruki had helped her with the confession that day before summer vacation that she felt he was justified in bringing up things she really had no reason to apologize for.

‘That’s right, this is how Natsuki’s always been….’

She was an honest and “good” person, and hardly ever doubted others.

She might deny it, but from an outsider’s point of view, it was like she never even considered the possibility that there might be some hidden agenda behind a person’s actions.

Even just now, he was sure that she realized he’d asked her about the confession because he was worried about himself.

‘....Well, not that I’m not worried about Natsuki, too.’

Not wanting Natsuki to keep apologizing for the wrong reasons, Haruki grinned at her.

He wanted her to know that he’d only asked her that question earlier to tease her.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It just means that you have your own timing, right? I’ll be rooting for you, so hurry up and confess like your life depends on it! Well, maybe I shouldn’t make that joke.”

“Haruki, that’s not funny,”

Natsuki replied in a serious tone, but the air around her was a lot lighter compared to earlier.

Feeling relieved, Haruki let himself burst into laughter.

“….Just kidding. I shouldn’t be chastising others when I’m not much better.”

Haruki was surprised at the unexpected bitterness that came out in his voice.

Natsuki blinked several times, surprised by the sudden confession.

“Wait, I didn’t know that you had a crush on someone too!”

“Sure I do. Something wrong with that?”

“Of course not! I’m rooting for you too!”

“Well that was a quick response.”

Haruki let a laugh escape, but Natsuki didn’t laugh along with him, and merely stared back.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable by how hard she was staring, he urged her to speak up.

“Yes?”

“How come you haven’t confessed to her, then?”

“….I want to focus on finishing the movie, first.”

The words flowed out smoothly, as if he had rehearsed them beforehand.

Since Natsuki was also postponing her confession for a similar reason, it looked like she couldn’t say anything. She tilted her head and made a humming noise, as if contemplating over Haruki’s words.

And then, as if she’d come up with the answer, her face suddenly lit up.

After knowing her for so long, Haruki knew she was about to say something outrageous.

He could only brace himself to take the explosive statements to follow.

“In that case, why not try doing a confession rehearsal?”

Just as he’d expected, a completely unpredictable proposal had come hurling at him from some impossible angle.

He had no idea how she’d even come to that conclusion.

It was a pretty big jump to suggest a confession rehearsal just because he couldn’t confess.

Unable to find the words, Haruki could only muster the simplest response.

“….What?”

“I don’t mean with the girl you like, but….”

“Oh, you mean with you?”

“Yeah! When I tried actually confessing, even if it ended up being just practice in the end, I was really nervous. And after I told him I liked him….”

Natsuki stopped mid-sentence and placed a hand on top of her cardigan, where her heart was.

Haruki couldn’t help but hold his breath at the look of inexplicable happiness on her face.

“I’m thinking of confessing to him for real next time.”

“…Really? Good for you.”

Haruki answered before he even had time to think about it.

He had been greatly disappointment when he’d heard about how Natsuki’s confession to Yuu had ended up as a rehearsal. And to make things worse, Yuu now mistakenly assumed that Natsuki planned to actually confess to someone else. It was enough to make Haruki think that it would’ve been better if Natsuki had just played the confession off as a joke.

‘To be honest, I still kind of think that way….’

But right now, he felt like the answer could be found in the expression Natsuki had on her face.

“Why do people fall in love?”

He was sure of it now, the answer to his question—

‘Come to think of it, isn’t this the first time I’ve ever confessed to anyone?’

His heartbeat quickened the moment he realized that.

He knew it was just a rehearsal, but his nerves showed no sign of subsiding.

‘....Sheesh, who knew I was such a coward?’

It was pathetic, but once he admitted that, he felt a little more relaxed.

As Haruki mumbled to himself to practice for the confession, he saw Natsuki quietly moving away.

She was probably trying to be considerate and give him some space.

‘I appreciate the thought, but it’s only having a negative effect right now.’

“Sorry to make you wait. I’m ready now, so whenever you are too.”

As Haruki hurriedly called out to her, he wanted to laugh at how cornered he sounded.

Natsuki froze in surprise.

“Ah, okay….”

One step at a time, Haruki closed the distance between them.

Natsuki must have found the tense atmosphere too much for her, and was looking down now.

“….Hey—”

He had only said one word so far, but his voice was already trembling.

He could feel heat gathered in his face, and pain in his chest.

She must have caught his nerves, because her face was also bright red.

‘Crap, what was I supposed to say again?’

His mind had turned blank, and he couldn’t recall the lines he’d just practiced.

The only words that remained were unmistakably his true feelings.

“You might be misunderstanding something, but she’s not the one I like…”

No, now he was just making excuses.

He was joking about it to himself now, but it was something that had always bothered him.

Miou had started acting strangely after the meeting in the art preparation room.

When she had texted him saying that she couldn’t walk home with him for a while, maybe she had also been trying to tell him that she didn’t want to go home with him.

“Haruki, you shouldn’t base everything on your own standards.”

Although he didn’t remember from when exactly, Haruki suddenly remembered Souta telling him that once before.

He didn’t understand what Souta had meant at the time, but he felt like now, he did.

During the meeting, Haruki said something some pretty harsh things to Miou.

He had been trying to encourage her, but maybe he had only managed to push her away.

‘....That’s really how I thought it was.’

But at the time, he refused to believe that he had messed up.

All because he thought that he was the one who understood Miou the most.

But even so.

Even if that were the case, that didn’t change Haruki’s feelings for her.

He would make sure he conveyed them clearly, and take a fresh step forward.

“I like you!”

As soon as he finished saying this, they heard the door shake with a loud rattle.

Startled, Natsuki and Haruki turned around, but they didn’t see anyone there.

“….Guess it was just the wind.”

“Probably.”

The moment they had finished with the confession rehearsal, there had been a sudden, mysterious loud noise. His heart was pounding so fast, he thought it might explode. Worried, he placed a hand over his chest.

He glanced up to look at Natsuki, and saw that she was making the exact same pose as him. It was like looking in a mirror.

She seemed to have realized this too, as as soon as they made eye contact, they both burst out laughing at the same time.

“Damn, I never thought confessing was so nerve-wracking.”

“Ah, come to think of it, Haruki, is this your first time confessing?”

“Yeah. I’m usually the one that’s always being confessed to.”

“What? Well if you say so~”

The atmosphere from earlier had completely disappeared, and Natsuki sounded like herself again.

As Haruki laughed, he glanced in the direction of the hallway.

‘Mochita…. and Hayasaka?’

His eyes widened as he recognized their retreating figures.

Had they overheard the confession rehearsal just now? They hadn’t taken it the wrong way, right?

It bothered him, but since he wasn’t sure if it was really them or not, he didn’t go after them.

‘Even if they did overhear, I’ll just clear up any misunderstandings later.’

At the time, Haruki had yet to realize that he’d made another misjudgement.

You shouldn’t base everything on your own standards.

It would be a long time before Haruki realized the true meaning behind Souta’s warning—

❀　❁　❀　❁　❀

It was fall now, and with each passing day, the nights grew longer.

Lately, the sunset would come so quickly, it was hard to stop by anywhere on the way home.

In just less than an hour, the sun would completely set.

‘At this rate, it’ll be dark out by the time Miou reaches her house.’

He had to bring it up soon.

But it had been so long since they’d spent time together like this, part of him couldn’t help but want to prolong it for even just a few more seconds.

He snuck a glance at Miou sitting beside him, and saw that she was silently watching the sunset.

‘Damn, I wish I’d brought my camera.’

The view from the top of the steps was one of Haruki’s favorites. It was perfect for just passing the time, and he had taken numerous shots here so far.

However, he had yet to get a single shot of Miou.

He was a bit embarrassed to do so, and more importantly, she didn’t seem to like being photographed, either.

There had been a time that he’d pointed the camera at her as a joke, and she had turned bright red and been on the brink of tears.

“Huh? What, you don’t like having your picture taken, Miou?”

“Well, not exactly…. I just think there are better things to take pictures of!”

Since she refused so insistently, Haruki had turned the camera away.

He knew how shy and reserved she was.

That what why he found her reaction so cute, but now, seeing how she’d refused in that self-depreciating way, he regretted not trying harder to convince her.

Don’t say there are better things to take pictures of.

It’s you, specifically, that I wanted to take a picture of.

Even if he’d said that, Miou probably wouldn’t change her mind so easily.

But it was important, more than he could ever know, to tell her in his own words what he thought, and how he felt.

‘....In the end, it’s these small incidents that just keep piling up.’

The results for the film contest would be announced next week.

He decided to go to the art room again and talk to Miou before the results came out.

He wanted to come out and tell her his feelings, on his own terms.

It had been a while since either of them had said a word.

Making up his mind, Haruki took a deep breath and turned to face Miou again.

“H-Haruki-kun, do you have a crush on anyone?”

The timing with which Miou popped this question was impeccable.

Having been thrown off guard, Haruki found himself short of breath.

“Ah, no, I mean, um….”

Miou, being Miou, seemed to be struggling to find the right words as she frantically waved both hands in front of her face.

She must have brought up the topic on a whim, and was feeling embarrassed now that she’d realized what she had just asked.

‘Come to think of it, we’ve never talked about this kind of thing before, huh.’

He was surprised at the suddenness of it all, but this was actually a good opportunity.

Haruki pulled himself back together and opened his mouth to speak again.

“I do.”

His voice came out a lot clearer than he had thought it would.

He was certain that it had been loud enough for Miou to hear, then.

Ignoring his noisy heartbeat, Haruki quietly checked her reaction.

Miou lifted her face with awkward movements, her eyes shining as if trying to tell him something.

‘Ah, this isn’t good.’

If she said something to him first, he just knew he’d lose his nerve.

It was just a hunch he had, making him reflexively look down.

“I do have a crush.”

He said once more, to be clear.

He heard her gasp beside him, and then speak in a quiet voice.

“Ah…. I see.”

That was Miou’s only response.

He waited a bit, but the silence dragged on. All he could hear was his noisy heartbeat.

‘Why won’t she say anything….?’

Doubt, anticipation, anxiety.

All these different feelings swirled around, running amok as if to tear him apart from the inside.

Haruki suppressed the urge to give into his emotions and scream, and instead asked nonchalantly,

“What about you?”

This time, he heard Miou gasp even more clearly than the last.

He glanced at her without turning his head, only moving his eyes, but Miou had her face turned away, and he couldn’t see what kind of expression she was making.

He looked down, and saw their hands that were just a small distance apart.

‘....About ten centimeters, huh.’

The space between them was about the size of a fist. If he spread out his hand, he could just touch Miou’s fingertips.

He knew this, but he couldn’t even lift a single finger.

‘You’re telling me I can’t even move a mere ten centimeters….?!’

“I do.”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure what she had just said.

He blinked several times, and gradually, the circuits in his brain began to function again.

He had asked if she had a crush on anyone, and Miou had answered that she did.

That was all, plain and simple, and to Haruki, it was like some conclusive truth.

‘So she does like someone.’

He repeated this silently to himself as if to confirm it, and felt a pain run through him, like his heart was being crushed.

It became hard to breathe, and his vision blurred.

Meanwhile, Miou stood up, and picked up her bag that she’d left lying on the ground.

‘Wait…. Don’t go…. Don’t go….!’

He called after her desperately in his head, but his throat only emitted silent whistling noises.

Was this really his body?

He couldn’t speak, and he couldn’t reach out to grab her arm.

All he could do was sit on the steps, and watch as Miou left.

Her soft hair and skirt danced in the wind as she descended the stairs with light footsteps.

When she got to the fourth step, she finally turned around.

“Oh, I just remembered I had something to do, so I’ll be going home now.”

“….Okay, see you later, then.”

When Miou spoke to him, he replied half-unconsciously.

By the time he heard his own voice echo in his eardrums, an intense regret was closing in on him.

‘Damn…. I’m not just a coward, but an idiot, too.’

This had been his last chance.

He knew this, and yet he’d run away from it all, choosing to take the safe way out.

Miou gave a small nod, and didn’t say anything else.

It must have been an urgent errand, or perhaps because she didn’t want to be here, that made her all but run away.

The reality of this plunged deeply into his heart at a sharp angle.

“It isn’t me?!”

Once Miou was completely out of sight, he spread out his arms and legs and fell backwards.

The autumn wind cooled down his burning cheeks.

The blurry sunset he saw was so beautiful it was almost infuriating.

❀　❁　❀　❁　❀

“Huh? Miou-chan?!”

She heard a voice call her from behind, carried along by the chilly wind.

‘....It’s…. Akari-chan.’

She had been running this whole time, so she must have been spacing out due to a lack of oxygen.

Miou slowly blinked her eyes, feeling somehow detached from reality.

Blink, blink.

She opened and closed her eyes to try and regulate her rapid heartbeat.

Suddenly, she felt something hot forming at the corner of her eyes, and hurriedly rubbed them away with the back of her hand.

‘No, I can’t cry….’

Even as she told herself this, her vision began to blur over.

If she couldn’t turn around, she should at least give some sort of reply.

Or was it better if she kept going, pretending she hadn’t heard her?

As Miou tried to decide, she heard footsteps approaching her.

“Miou-chan, let’s go home toge–”

Miou was drawn in by her soft voice and clear eyes.

The moment they made eye contact, Akari gasped, and furrowed her delicate eyebrows.

‘I guess she saw me crying….’

Unable to hold them back any longer, Miou’s tears finally spilled forth.

“It isn’t…. m-me….”

As Miou stuttered in a tearful voice, Akari listened quietly.

Comforted by the warm hand wrapped kindly behind her back, Miou continued between sobs,

“He said that he has someone he likes already….”

“Mm-hm.”

“I was the only who thought….”

Thinking back on it now, Haruki hadn’t said anything definitive.

But for some reason, she felt like she had some idea.

If Haruki had someone he liked, maybe it was her.

Haruki was so outgoing, and could get along with anyone right off the bat.

But at the same time, there was a part of him that didn’t let anyone come near.

Because of the clear boundaries he set for himself, that made him sensitive to the boundaries that others wanted to set. That was how he was able to maintain good relationships with people without making anyone uncomfortable.

‘But Haruki-kun doesn’t talk with other girls much.’

Miou realized this after she’d started going home together with Haruki, but he only ever talked about other guys. It was rare that he would even mention a girl’s name.

If Haruki ever talked to any girls, it was usually just his childhood friends, Natsuki or Miou.

Speaking of Natsuki, Haruki had been the one to encourage her to confess to Yuu.

If Haruki was interested in Natsuki romantically, he probably wouldn’t have done that.

Even if he were to support her feelings for Yuu, judging by his personality, he would make sure to confess his own feelings for her first. And only after hearing an answer from her would he decide what to do with his feelings and how to proceed from there.

In this way, Miou made these arbitrary speculations and hopeful observations to reassure herself.

But when she lined up at the realities that she had put together to suit her own needs, she realized there was no point.

She had been denying it all this time, but now, she finally felt able to acknowledge it.

For these past two years, Miou had been by Haruki’s side, but that was all.

She was happy to be beside him, and hadn’t put any effort in drawing his attention.

“But I don’t want to give up.”

Before she even realized, Miou said this in a clear voice.

Not “I can’t give up,” but “I don’t want to give up.”

Embarrassed by her own misunderstanding, Miou had run away from Haruki.

She felt like she couldn’t bear to face him again.

But even so, strong and definite feelings for him still remained at the bottom of her heart.

“....Yeah, I know.”

Akari’s words made her chest feel warmer than any other form of comfort would have.

She was still so ashamed, but her heart was slowly starting to feel less heavy.

“Come to think of it, I’ve got cake at home!”

“Huh?”

Miou lifted her face, surprised by the sudden change in topic.

Akari looked down at her, her eyes filled with a warm light. They were eyes that seemed to accept and acknowledge her as a whole, and she could feel her tears fading away.

“It’s a new menu item from the Hoshiya across the station! Do you want to try some?”

“Y-yeah~!”

If she wanted to respond to Akari’s sentiment, and be able to move forward, she couldn’t keep on crying.

Miou balled both of her hands into fists and firmly declared,

“I can allow myself to eat sweets just for today, can’t I?”

She would stuff herself with sweets with her dear friend.

Just for tonight, she wouldn’t hold back on seconds at dinner, either.

She would take a nice, long bath, and watch her favorite movie with a mug of hot chocolate.

She’d even stay up later than usual tonight, and once it was morning, she’d smile again.

Telling this to herself, she moved forward, one step at a time.

Miou then realized that Akari wasn’t walking beside her, and turned back around.

“Akari-chaaan?”

When she called, Akari hurriedly rubbed at her eyes.

Had something gotten in her eye? Or maybe—

“C’mon, let’s hurry! The cakes aren’t going to wait, you know?”

Miou decided not to ask about it, and called to her while waving her hand in the air.

Akari gave a small sigh, before soon flashing a brilliant smile.

“….Ahaha! Looks like we’ll have to race to my house, then.”

She looked up at the sky, and saw the moon glowing faintly in place of the sun.

Smiling at the thought of a clear, sunny day tomorrow, Miou raced down the hill.