𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒 & 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 | 𝐎𝐍𝐄

√ || claude • what if i told you i love you? [1/2]

"I'll just wash this and then we can go, alright?" You say to Claude, and disappeared inside of your apartment.

***

You have never been so pressured with walking in your whole life. It was frustrating, suddenly losing almost all your ability to walk properly. Claude, on the other hand, acted like nothing was out of the ordinary; as his hands were tucked neatly behind the pocket of his pants, as if on a casual stroll, and his eyes skimmed over the names of breakfast and brunch places, in search for a specific one.

"(Y/N)?" Claude suddenly called, "can I ask you something?"

You shrugged, giving him a short glance. "Sure."

"Do you think my life's boring?"

You were a little surprised at the question that left his lips. As far as you knew, was that he wasn't the type to ask those kinds of things. He was more of the kind where you ask him questions like those instead, and he'll answer.

"W-Well, um," you began, stammering the more the thought of Claude staring at you, waiting for an answer surfaced in your mind.

"That actually depends on you, on what you think of your life is,"  you said, shooting him a small glance to see if he was looking. "Like, for me, I think you have a normal life. Not too boring, not too wild — like, yeah, something like that." You rambled gingerly, afraid to offend his feelings.

You cursed yourself for seeming so shy and silly around him, knowing that you had to be subtle or else things will get too suspicious. Claude was a good friend, and it'd be a shame to lose him over you not being able to control your hormones around him—

"How about you? Is your life boring?" He asks, looking at you with curious eyes.

"I wouldn't say boring, to be honest," you smiled, letting a chuckle escape your lips. "More like unfortunate."

"Oh? How come?"

You looked at Claude, unable to hide the sadness in your eyes, but you still mustered a smile, and said, "I have HCM, you see,"

"That's short for Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy."

Claude looked surprised. His wide eyes looked at you expectantly, as if he was asking for more information.

"It's a pretty fatal condition, and it sucks, because I can't enjoy theme parks because, well, it won't do me any good," you explained, "it's hereditary — runs in the side of my dad. And soon enough, if I'm lucky, I'll have to replace this—" you pointed towards your chest, "— with a new one."

Your companion bore a long sigh. "That's really sad to hear," he said.

You smiled, feeling another wave of butterflies roar in your stomach. "That's why I try to make everyday the best day for me," you said, trying to be optimistic.

"Because people diagnosed with HCM tend to have a shorter life span. And that's just kinda sad, you know? You don't get enough time to enjoy everything the world has to offer."

Claude smiled. "And sometimes, the ones who don't deserve such a long life lives up to a whopping 90 years. Pretty ironic, don't you think?" He said soberly.

"Definitely. It's not fair," you agreed, heaving out a sigh afterwards.

You two reached a humble-looking brunch place with plants all around it. You looked at Claude in questioning way, clearly confused on wether it was a plant shop or a restaurant.

"Their pancakes are the best," Claude says, giving you one of his rare smiles in order to reassure you. And it did — more than it should, actually, if it weren't for you getting distracted by nearly letting out a moan-ish sound that would've brought you enough embarrassment to die from.