Chapter 5: Playing Cupid
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Misaki's head thumped loudly against the lunchroom table. She let out a long, tired groan as her shoulders slumped uselessly at her sides.
While none of the other students in the noisy cafeteria took notice, Keiichi Sumi—who was sitting across from her—glanced up from his bento.
"Again?" he asked sympathetically.
She nodded in agreement, her eyes scrunched shut. The smooth plaster of the table felt cool against her cheek as she slowly exhaled, wisps of brown hair fluttering against her forehead as she did so.
The older student continued, "This makes, what, the fifth one this week?"
"The sixth, actually," Misaki corrected miserably. "Haru-san has been sending them every day so far, and my apartment is flooded with flowers now! Which reminds me, I need to ask him where the hell he got my address from in the first place…"
Haru-san, of course, was really Haruhiko Usami. Sumi had borrowed her phone once and—noticing the new name on her contacts list—had shot her a knowing smile and asked if "Haru" was the weird guy he'd found her complaining about a while ago. Misaki nervously agreed that it was, indeed, the same person, which made Sumi become curious of her edgy behavior. After some prodding, she eventually obliged to answer his urging inquiries.
Due to Haruhiko's social rank and possible connections, Misaki had felt it necessary to protect his identity and from then on referred to "her stalker" with the sort-of pseudonym. It was a split-second decision, really. It wasn't that she didn't trust her senpai—he had been her sole confidant during the past week or so, after all—but it never hurt to be safe, right?
However, at the moment, that particular detail was irrelevant. She was more concerned about the startling influx of flowers that Haruhiko was persistently sending her day after day.
Each bouquet was different from the last—something she'd noticed out of pure coincidence, she might insist if asked. They came in a myriad of colors and assortments, in straw baskets and delicate glass vases and sparkling wrapping paper, adorned with velvety ribbons of every size. Misaki didn't know much about the art of flower arrangement, but she had to admit that they were all quite beautiful.
However, within the time span of a few days, the deliveries had proven to become a bit… much. At the beginning, after finding a consistent number of the bouquets on her desk each day, Misaki'd assumed that Haruhiko would only send them on weekends when she had work. Marukawa was the only mutual place between them besides the café, so it made sense to think that way, right?
So, imagine her surprise when she'd returned to her apartment from classes that following Monday to discover a delivery woman bearing a basket brimming with flowers waiting for her. Despite the girl's confusion, the deliverer had cheerfully handed the basket off to her, saying, "From a Mister Haruhiko Usami! He also said to tell you that he loves you. Oh, how romantic!"
It had been an awkward moment when she'd retreated into her room and hastily closed the door on the gushing woman, at the same time wondering how on earth Haruhiko knew where she lived. The basket had then been added to the ever-growing pile of flowers on her table that would soon overflow and populate the majority of space in her tiny apartment.
Another thing Misaki had soon noticed was that each bouquet, no matter what the arrangement, somehow incorporated roses. More often than not, they were red roses—the popular symbol for love.
Her face flushed at the very thought of that fact.
"Creepy, yet somehow endearing," Sumi noted airily, waving his chopsticks in one hand as he spoke. He then smiled at her in amusement. "You certainly pick up the most colorful of characters, Misaki-chan."
