tell me something i don't know | oikawa tooru ✔

The Moment When An Outburst Occurs

Chapter 20-

     "We're hosting Hanako's birthday party at our beach house!"

      Nozomi sat on the stairs, her eyes glued onto the pages of a book. Her ears perched at the sound of her mother's voice from the kitchen beside her. Miura Yoshino was talking over the phone, probably with a business partner. Nevertheless, Nozomi's eyes stayed immersed into her book.

      "We'll have the party over a span of three days. We haven't been able to spend much time at our old beach house, oh how fun this will be!" Nozomi's mother chirped, elegantly smiling.

      "Well, the beach house itself really isn't far from our home. It only takes about an hour to get there."

      In truth, Nozomi didn't want to go. She remembered the last time they went to their beach house, which was years ago. She spent the majority of her time there in a pile of books.

     "So you'll come? Ah, thank you. I'll send you more information later on. Bye!" Her mother happily giggled, ending the call with a click. She turned towards Hanako, who sat in one of the seats by the dining table.

      "Now, we're going to have to buy you a splendid dress for this wonderful occasion! My beautiful daughter, turning twenty-two years old. Time really does fly by!" Miura Yoshino chuckled. Nozomi could see a definite happy expression on Hanako's face as she smiled back at their mother. It made Nozomi happy knowing Hanako was happy, which was something she would have never felt before.

      The grey-haired girl closed her book, raising herself up. She turned around, hand on the railing as she began to walk upstairs.

      "Oh, and Nozomi."

      The girl stopped in her tracks. She slowly turned her head, a calm expression painted on her features. She patiently waited for her mother's next words.

      Her mother cleared her throat. "I expect you to wear something decent as well. And at your sister's party I want you to behave, understand?"

      Nozomi silently nodded, resuming her actions as she continued to walk up the steps. She heard her mother sigh—not a pleasant one—as she retreated up the stairs into her room.

       She dropped on her bed, laying on her side as she clutched her book close against her chest. Shifting on her back, Nozomi re-opened her book, flipping back to her marked page. Her fingers traced over the small, black printed letters.

       Nozomi loved looking at those letters. She liked looking at the words of the book. Perhaps reading was what saved her; saved her from a future of nil.

        She also loved the smell of paper-back books. She liked the smell of hard-cover books too. She liked the smell of the off-white thin pages, the scent she would always smell when she was in the bookstore or the library.

       Her index finger stopped over a line, purposely separated from the paragraph above it, and the paragraph below it.

      I doubt they love me. Love is a term used when the word "like" seems too dull. If they don't even like me, then I doubt they will ever love me.

      Nozomi narrowed her eyes.

      What is love?

      Why are there so many different types of love?

      How do you know you love someone?

      How do you know someone loves you back?

      Nozomi rarely questions love. She rarely even thinks about the word itself. It was mainly because she never understood love. Any sort of love. But lately, things have changed. Things have been different.