Ema pulled her hand out of Fuuto's grip, jumping to her feet and knocking her chair over in the process.
"Tell me what happened," she demanded an answer, but she didn't bother to wait until I had found the words to describe what had happened. In a flurry of movement, she hurried after the insufferable boy, the soles of her shoes slapping on the white floorboards. Hesitantly, I reached for the sleeve of her over-sized coat to stop her, but she sidestepped me, and my fingers merely brushed past the fabric.
"Leave her," Fuuto said, conceding defeat a bit too easily. Thus, we both watched as the door fell shut behind Ema, neither of us moving a muscle. Two metal bells chimed as the door closed, the sound ringing in my ears.
Suddenly, it was just the two of us. Fuuto let his head drop on the tabletop, twisting his neck to be able to look at me sideways.
"That went well," he puffed.
"Did he know about your plan?" I asked him tentatively. Fuuto snorted, which was an answer in and of itself.
"No."
"I think he got the wrong idea," I disclosed, a smile tugging on the corners of my mouth.
"Idiot," Fuuto huffed.
"Hey, it's your fault that everything went South," I protested. "I think you're the idiot."
The idiot reached for his bag, which was slung over the back of his chair, taking the black recorder.
Carefully, I set the saucers and cups on the table aside to give Fuuto an empty spot to place the device.
"Since I'm the idiot, why don't you come up with a plan?" he teased me, lazily playing with the tape recorder with one hand.
Staring down at the boy who lay splayed on the table with his chest, I couldn't help a fond smile. I took a pink notebook and a pen from my bag, which I placed on the free edge of the table, almost knocking an empty coffee cup over in the process.
A deep silence settled in the shop as I pondered over why Fuuto's plans were so incredibly miserable. Absentmindedly, I tapped with the back of my pen on an empty sheet, wishing that I would draw up blanks.
Instead, I found many reasons to condemn Fuuto's plans – all of them connected to my infatuation with him.
Above us, a chandelier made of glass shards reflected the light, casting rainbows on the empty page in my notebook. Admittedly, there were more issues with his schemes, but I wasn't sure whether I wanted to divulge those. Notwithstanding these issues, I knew with a chilling certainty, that were his attempts aimed at me, they would have worked.
The lady had disappeared in the back of the shop, something I noticed when I looked at the pictures that covered the wall behind the counter. The art-deco frames contained pictures of iconic buildings in Paris. Although the atmosphere was peaceful, I couldn't relax.
"[Y/N]-chan?" he called my name.
"Hmm?" I turned back to Fuuto, giving a start when our gazes met and locked. Before, the side of his face had rested on his arms, but now he had propped up his chin.
Time ticked away as we stared at each other, making me feel stupid and causing me no small bit of anxiety. Furthermore, every minute that passed meant that Fuuto could decipher my expression, which probably didn't hide any of my feelings.
Moreover, I felt my cheeks heat up under his attention, regardless of how fake his keen interest was. Unwilling to reveal how affected I was, I started looking for clues in his expression to figure out what Fuuto wanted from me. Upon the realisation that he was staring at me with a blank expression, I frowned.
"What's wrong?" I asked him, pressing for an answer.
"Which song did you like best?"
We both looked at the tape recorder on the table, which balanced precariously in Fuuto's loose grip.
"If I say 'all of them', what will happen?" I asked him, amusement making my voice oddly melodic.
He grinned, letting the tape recorder fall on its side. In a reflex, I reached for the falling recorder, my fingers ending up intertwined with Fuuto's, the recorder safely captured between the palms of our hands.
Shockwaves travelled through my fingertips, a blush spreading on my face again. Fuuto didn't withdraw his fingers, but his faltering grin betrayed that this development perturbed him equally.
Nervously, I swallowed, my gaze fixed on our fingers. Although we were holding hands, our position wasn't reminiscent of how Fuuto had held Ema's hand earlier today. This time, however, Fuuto wasn't putting up a fake front, which was a realisation I treasured. However, this was accidental too, instigated by me rather than him. To keep my mood from plummeting, I affirmed that Fuuto hadn't pulled his hand away, despite having had the chance to do so.
When Fuuto spoke again, his grip tightened imperceptibly. "Aren't you greedy?"
I love you, was the only response that popped up in my mind. Wisely, I kept my lips sealed together until the overwhelming urge to blurt these three words passed.
"Can't I be greedy?" I taunted, wondering where Fuuto had placed line and when I would cross said line.
"I guess you can," Fuuto muttered, seemingly lost in thought.
Which settled that matter, because Fuuto pulled me to my feet using our interlaced fingers.
The notebook and pen clattered on the floor, followed by the thud of the tape recorder falling over on the red tablecloth.
"I'll sing those songs for you, and you'll help me make my plan bulletproof in return," Fuuto suggested.
Overjoyed at the prospect of a solo concert, I nodded vigorously. A smile graced Fuuto's lips, but I couldn't discern the feelings behind that smile.
Back when we had first met, we could communicate with a glance. Nowadays, I even needed a manual for Fuuto's spoken words. The more invested I became in Fuuto, the less I understood what was going on in his mind. Before, we may not have needed words, but now I had to ask: "Where are we going?"
"My house," Fuuto said.
Ah.
The distance that used to be between us had disappeared, and I couldn't help but feel melancholy. Ever since Fuuto had elbowed me between the shoulder blades, things had changed at an alarming rate. A mere five weeks in, I was going over to his house to listen to him sing. Maybe, this impromptu concert was payback rather than a profession of undying love, but he was going to sing just for me nevertheless.
We ended up paying for Ema and Fuuto's friend too since both hadn't returned anymore and neither had bothered to pay before they ran off. As we both collected our coats and packed our bags, a tranquil silence settled around us. In whispers, we argued over how we would divide the bill; a fight I won to our surprise.
When Fuuto gave in and agreed to split the bill equally, his expression was filled with disbelief, as if the realisation that he had given me my way finally settled.
Sticking out my tongue briefly, I excavated my wallet from the mess in my bag.
To compensate for his loss, Fuuto stole my bag from me as soon as we stepped outside, something that was a real relief. Without the bag, I could move faster, but Fuuto strolled, so I didn't have to hurry.
He was so kind to me, and I didn't know what had changed.
"Thank you," I said, pointing at the bags he was carrying with my chin.
"You're welcome."
In companionable silence, we walked to Sunshine Residence, a place I had visited countless times before. Today, however, the familiarity was unsettling, reminding me of Ema and the schedule in the bag Fuuto was carrying.
Screw the schedule, I thought, feeling like quite the rebel.
Asahina Ukyo observed us from the driveway when we passed through the gates, his expression one of bemusement. He leaned on the rooftop of his expensive sportscar, his briefcase laying on the gravel, forgotten.
Fuuto ignored his older brother, and I nodded once in his direction before hurrying after Fuuto, who had suddenly picked up his pace. Fortunately, we managed to make it to Fuuto's room without running into any other the other brothers.
Asahina Ukyo was reliable and seemed like someone who would mind his own business. Hopefully, my first impression was right, because I didn't even dare to think about the consequences when what we were doing was brought to light.
A small voice inside of me used that opportunity to question for the first time what I feared. A legitimate question that I couldn't answer. So far, Ema had shown little interest in the strange developments between I and Fuuto. She hadn't even asked why Fuuto and I had arrived at the café together.
Sighing, I decided to investigate the subject more closely when I was alone. Now, it was time to listen to Fuuto.
For the first time, I saw shyness in his expression as he took his guitar from the corner of his room and sat down on the thick carpet that covered the floor in his bedroom.
The room was pristine; all the furniture, the blankets, and even the curtains were white. Closets lined the wall, containing all Fuuto's possessions because I didn't see anything scattered on the floor.
Not wanting to come off as rude or overly curious, I sat down as well with my gaze fixed on Fuuto.
"I did promise this," he muttered, almost like he was convincing himself that this was a good idea.
Which it was because as soon as he started singing, I couldn't look away anymore.
I love you; these three words echoed in my body and mind as I listened to Fuuto. I struggled to contain them within my mouth. They were words with a charged meaning, but the feeling that welled up in me was equally before and radically different from the worship I had felt for Asakura.
My reverence and love for Fuuto made me feel dizzy.
A light knock on the door made Fuuto fall silent during the fifth song.
Startled, we stared at the door which was opened by Asahina Masaomi.
His goofy grin fell when he discovered me in the room, an eyebrow quirking up instead. This time, Fuuto didn't give any outward signs that could tell me how he felt about this situation.
"Is something the matter?" he asked Masaomi who regained his composure after listening to the question.
"Your manager called earlier today," he said, "wanted to know whether you had thought about the new songs. I guess I have an answer already."
He laughed shortly at his joke before turning his attention to me.
"What do you think about the new songs?" he asked me with an amused glint in his eyes. The oldest brother was here for some entertainment, I realised, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
"I love them," I avowed, emphasizing every syllable. The feelings that I had kept bottled up were audible in these words, although they weren't the words I wanted to say, nor was Masaomi the person I wanted to address.
Swiftly, I turned to Fuuto, wishing that I had the perfect words to convey what I felt. To my surprise, Fuuto was already looking at me with a satisfied expression which disappeared as soon as he noticed me studying him.
"Every single song you have written has become my favourite song. But these are special. Whether it's intentional or not, I heard them first, and that makes them so much more special to me. These songs are important to me – all of them are, but these even more so," I prattled. "I mean you sang them."
Although I was rambling, Fuuto listened intently, nodding once when I finished talking.
"Thank you," he said, an expression of gratitude that caught me off guard.
Speechless by the turn events had taken, I gave him a smile that couldn't possibly convey how thankful I was for all he did for me.
Masaomi cleared his throat, "I'll leave you to your songs," he decided.
When the door closed behind him, Fuuto bent his head over his guitar again, locks of honey-coloured hair obscuring his expression.
He started singing the fifth song from the beginning again.