[Fuuto]: No.
[Y/N]: Care to share what parts weren't fake, then?
[Fuuto]: I want you to know that I regret making you cry.
[Y/N]: Thank you for apologising. I don't hold it against you since it started our partnership as schemers, but I'm happy that you apologised nevertheless.
[Fuuto]: You do try to reach the character limit for each of your texts, don't you? Did the notion of replying with an OK ever occur to you?
[Y/N]: Is that bad thing?
[Fuuto]: Not when you sound flustered.
If he kept raising my hopes only to bring me down again, I would end up with ground powder for a heart.
[Fuuto]: I got side-tracked, but I wanted to warn you. The tabloids will write about tonight, and they'll probably make something up that suits their tastes. I don't think they'll uncover your identity, but I wanted to warn you anyway.
[Y/N]: Says the one who accuses me of writing a wall of text. I understand, Fuuto. If that's the price that I'll pay for being on television, then so be it. Besides you said regretted making me cry.
[Fuuto]: Don't make me regret saying all that cheesy stuff.
[Y/N]: But you'll always regret making me cry more, right?
I loved teasing him because his embarrassment told me that he cared – just a little.
[Fuuto]: [Y/N]-chan! Perhaps you should fear my wrath more than the tabloids.
[Y/N]: I'll be waiting. When will you be home again?
[Fuuto]: Monday night. So, that won't mess with our plans for the date on Tuesday.
[Y/N]: Do you want to review our plans for Tuesday?
[Fuuto]: Is there something you would like to do?
[Y/N]: You should be asking these questions to Ema. What does it matter whether I like it or not? At this rate, you're going to miss that one chance you need to convince Ema. It's less than two weeks to the ball, Fuuto. Twelve days to be precise. Maybe, you should go on a date with Ema alone. I don't think my meddling had had a positive effect at all.
[Fuuto]: You're going, [Y/N]. Otherwise, there'll be consequences.
[Y/N]: And may I know what consequences you have in mind? Ema already has a lot of strange ideas in her head, besides she didn't dump Mahoko either when she confessed her love to you. I think Ema has stopped caring because she has something that concerns her more. Either way; your argument is void.
[Fuuto]: Maybe, I should give you a proposal that you can't resist, then.
[Y/N]: Go ahead, I'm curious to be given a proposal I can't resist.
Impress your number one fan, please.
[Fuuto]: You're the most unreasonable person I have ever met, [Y/N].
[Y/N]: Stop flattering me.
[Fuuto]: Is there something you want to have?
I chuckled bitterly, thinking of a dozen things that I wanted Fuuto to give me. Alas, they weren't things he could give away to me.
Sighing, I stared at the last text, trying to come up with something acceptable.
[Fuuto]: I'll sing that song you like so much for you again. You only have to accompany me on Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Friday too. Also, I would like you to be on standby during the last date on the day of the closing event.
[Y/N]: Has anyone ever called you greedy? What if I refuse?
[Fuuto]: What I want, I take. I won't take no for an answer. If I must, I'll drag you along.
[Y/N]: How typical. I'll be there.
[Fuuto]: That's better.
Maybe, it was better for him, but for me, it only meant having to witness the boy I liked to ask out my best friend.
[Fuuto]: I would like you to know that I do regret making you cry, but you can't tell anyone else, okay? It's a secret.
[Y/N]: A secret the entire nation knows.
Why did he put so much emphasis on such a small detail? Furthermore, how could he continue to call this a secret?
[Fuuto]: It's the thought that counts, besides if you think that's what I meant to do, you're sorely mistaken.
I put my phone away to sleep but ended up staring at the posters that covered the ceiling. "Asahina Fuuto," I breathed, "I love you so much, and you don't love me. Meanwhile, I can't understand the things you need me to see."
Although the tabloids did have a field day, no one suspected that the girl who had made Fuuto cave in using tears was a normal girl like me. The guesses ranged from the lead singer of a famous idol unit to the newest recruits at his agency.
With a faint smile, I scanned the forums dedicated to Fuuto. All recent posts were theories on the mysterious girl. Only a few people remembered that Fuuto had referred to the concert in Osaka, so the culprit had to have a matching schedule.
This publicity stunt boosted the presales for the CD to unknown levels according to insiders. Naturally, I had already pre-ordered one CD to add to my collection.
When my phone rang, I could immediately accept Ema's call.
"Hey, what's up?" I whispered.
"Why are you whispering?" Ema asked me, her voice low too.
"Because I'm in the hospital. Why are you whispering?"
"An automatic reaction?" Ema guessed. "But that doesn't matter. Yuusuke has a question for you."
That was a special occasion.
"Then, I'll try to answer his question," I said playfully.
"Fuuto told us this morning that he had done the punishment. Can you confirm that?" Yuusuke asked me.
"You mean to ask me whether he told me a secret?" I asked him in confusion.
"Yes," Yuusuke said.
"I don't think he has said anything to me," I began slowly, but then inspiration struck. "Wait," I gushed, disbelief filling me. "I think he did, though."
If he had told me a secret, even if I couldn't understand what he had meant with his words, then he liked me.
"Okay. Thank you for sharing this with us," Yuusuke thanked me.
"You're welcome," I said before Ema took the phone back.
"What did Fuuto say?" she asked.
"The same thing he said on television. That he regretted making me cry," I revealed, my voice dropping a few tones lower to keep possible eavesdroppers at bay.
A nurse entered the waiting room, calling my name.
"Hey, I have to go, but I'll speak to you later, Ema," I said before I hang up.
Doctor Masume was waiting for me, his gaze flicking to the doorway after I had entered, aimed too high to be meant for me.
"He isn't with me today," I said, the idea that people expected Fuuto to be by my side making me feel giddy.
Awkwardly, the doctor cleared his throat before he gave a single nod.
"I can be short: you're allowed to walk again. However, before you think everything is nice and dandy, this is going to require some caution and rehabilitation. We have already arranged an appointment with the in-house physical therapist."
"That's good news," I prattled enthusiastically, "just in time for the culture fair."
Doctor Masume's expression darkened in response.
"The fact that you're allowed full weight-bearing doesn't mean that you can walk again."
"Really?" I asked, lifting to my feet from the wheelchair.
Needles of pain shot through my leg, making me reconsider immediately. Falling back into the wheelchair, I leaned over my knees to clutch my heel, which hurt exceptionally.
"The physical therapist will provide you with crutches or a walking cane," the doctor said.
"I see," I muttered dejectedly. Going back to crutches would be a nightmare. Walking was going to be a nightmare too.
I was allowed to keep the wheelchair for now – and to be completely honest, I would have been stranded in the doctor's office if they had taken the wheelchair away.
The design of the hospital took the struggles of disabled people into account, so navigating through the hospital in my wheelchair was a fresh breath of air after the trouble I had faced on so many occasions out in public.
Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long until my appointment with the physical therapist started. She was a kind lady who moved through the details at a dizzying pace.
"So, these are the prescribed exercises, love. By the way, you'll have to hand in the wheelchair at the front desk of this department. We have also arranged a walking cane for you."
"Ah, thank you," I said, accepting the folder with exercises.
I felt scared about walking again. My ankle still ached, a constant reminder of how much putting weight on my ankle had hurt. Notwithstanding my initial enthusiasm, I couldn't imagine walking. My ankle looked and felt so fragile that I was frightened of touching the limb.
Slowly, I made my way to the desk, where I had to lift to my feet again. This time, however, I had a crutch to support me. The walking cane proved to be a crutch, not unlike the ones I had used before.
Cautiously, I tried to move, keeping my healed ankle hovering above the floor. After a few steps, the muscles in both legs started to tremble. Due to the exertion, my ankle was under more pressure than I wanted.
I would never be able to walk normally again, would I?
While I hobbled towards the exit of the hospital at a snail's pace, I worked myself up into a panicked frenzy.
Coming up with doom scenarios worked as a motivation to keep to moving until it didn't. Defeated, I flopped down on a bench, wanting to hear a familiar voice more than anything.
Without thinking it through, I dialled Fuuto's number.
"[Y/N]-chan?" he asked me, concern lacing his voice. "Why are you calling me?"
"No reason," I said, "I just wanted to hear your voice."
Listening to Fuuto was calming, his voice melodic even when he didn't sing.
"Where're you?" he asked me.
"Huh? Oh, I'm on my way home, but I decided to take a little break," I explained.
"Where're you?" he pressed more urgently. "Don't pretend that everything is alright when your voice trembles, [Y/N]."
"I'm at the hospital," I answered, too tired to bother arguing.
Fuuto gasped audibly. "No one told me that," he scoffed. "What happened?"
"Today was the last follow-up appointment, and the doctor said I'm allowed to walk again," I explained.
"You mean full weight-bearing?"
"Uh, yes, that," I verified, wondering where Fuuto had learnt such a technical term.
"I'm on my way," he said, "don't move."
Torn between telling him that I was in no position to move and assuring him that I would be fine, I sighed deeply.
"Thank you," I said, the words carrying all the weight I had intended to give them. "I would feel better with you here."
"I'm so sorry," he apologised. "This's all my fault."
"Are you still in Tokyo?" I asked him, faintly recalling that he was supposed to have a concert in Sendai tonight, which wasn't very close to Tokyo.
"Yes, I'm still here," he answered brusquely.
His short reply made alarm bells ring in my mind. In the background, I heard a mechanical female voice announce flight information, the low droning of conversations drowning out the exact words.
"You're about to board a plane, aren't you?" I asked him, suspicion lacing his voice. "Your domestic flight is leaving soon, isn't it?"
"Don't stress over those details," Fuuto said offhandedly.
Then, he hung up, leaving me dumbstruck on a bench in front of the hospital.
"Oh dear," I whispered, trying to suppress the big grin that would split my face in two if I allowed it to form.
Maybe, he did like me. I couldn't deny the fact that he still pursued Ema, but I felt like I made a chance too. Then I remembered that Mahoko had had the same feeling, but Fuuto's cruel words had crushed her feelings.
Pondering what I should do, I waited until I spotted Fuuto running in my direction. Once he reached me, he stopped, leaning on his knees and panting.
"What did they say?" he heaved, struggling to both talk and breathe.
"I have to do these exercises and should use this cane to walk," I summarised.
"I'll take you home," Fuuto said, taking one of my arms and slinging it over his shoulder. My hand dangled over his collarbone while the crook of my elbow rested against his neck. Due to this position, our sides touched as Fuuto lifted me in the air to set me on my feet.
The contact ran over our entire sides and burnt through my clothes. With a soft gasp, I looked at Fuuto, but his face was so much closer than I had expected. He placed his left hand on my waist, pressing me further into him, and I turned in goo.
Fortunately, he carried my weight because my knees felt weak.
Patiently, he led me to the parking lot, where a cab stood parked in the curb.
I hazarded one glance in Fuuto's direction, seeing that his eyes were on me too.
He used his free right hand to move a few locks of hair from my forehead. His eyes fixed on me in a way that made goosebumps erupt all over my body. His eyes were dark, an unfamiliar intensity in the brown depth.
Suppressing the shiver that would give my dazed and affected state away, I kept staring. Hunger, I reckoned, the strange look in his eyes was hunger. And it made me feel strangely lightheaded, hot knots forming in my stomach that were unlike the butterflies I expected.
"Fuuto?" I whispered weakly, cursing the tremor in my voice.
In a millisecond the spell broke, and Fuuto dropped his hand again.
"I just wanted to check something," he clarified gruffly.
"Oh," I sighed, regretting that I had disrupted the moment.
Fuuto opened the door for me and helped me sit on the backseat. Then he sat down next to me, so close that our knees brushed. His perception of personal space had reversed.
Letting him sit so close to me was a bad idea, but I couldn't bring myself to shuffle away. I had already become used to the familiar pattern in which I would beat myself up over enjoying the false affection he displayed towards me. Maybe everything was a lie to manipulate me, but I had no proof to refute the hopes that he would like me too.
I liked him so much. So, the answer was simple: if Mahoko could muster the courage to confess, then so could I. Silently, I vowed that if Fuuto failed to win Ema over, I would declare my love.
"I can only take you home," Fuuto said with one glance at his phone, which he then put away in a pocket in his black jeans resolutely.
"I hope I didn't mess with your schedule too much," I worried, reaching for my smartphone to check what time it was. "You have an important concert in Sendai tonight after all."
"About yesterday," Fuuto said suddenly, broaching a subject that could better be left untouched.
"No one discovered my identity, so everything is fine," I told him decisively.
"You were so occupied with reminding me of what I said, that I didn't have the time to remind you of the things you said," he drawled, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Laughing uncertainly, I tried to recall how much damage I had caused to the emotional distance I pretended to have between us. Fuuto leaned closer to me, forgoing the fact that our knees were already touching and thus were already too close. With one hand pressed against the back of my seat and the other next to my thigh, he invaded my personal space even further.
"So, you're Asahina Fuuto's fan?" he murmured, keeping his voice low so that the driver wouldn't overhear.
"You preferred it that way, didn't you?" I reasoned, sounding more than a little sassy.
"I do," he conceded, which probably counted as another secret Fuuto shared with me.
Shyly, I kept my gaze on my entangled fingers which rested on my lap. With only a few centimetres between our noses, I didn't dare look at Fuuto directly. Furthermore, I could have suddenly developed a severe case of bad breath, which would be an incredible turnoff.
"You were very supportive of my career choices yesterday, [Y/N]-chan," he teased me.
"That's why you think I'm a treasure," I quipped.
With an amused snort, Fuuto fell back in his seat, giving me enough space to breathe.
"You act rather shy for someone with such a sharp tongue," he judged.
"I want to insult you too, but I'm still too grateful to find the right words," I grumbled.
Fuuto observed me for a long moment before he turned to the window. We were quiet until the cab came to a stop in front of my home.
Fuuto left the car first, walking over to my side to help me get out of the metal contraption. As he leaned forward to grab me, his phone fell from his pocket. The screen switched on as it hit my knees. Swiftly, I reached for his smartphone before it could fall on the floor.
Then I noticed that he had 37 missed calls.
Dumbly, I handed Fuuto his phone. Acting as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, Fuuto lifted me from the car, putting me back on my feet. Using both Fuuto and the walking cane, I managed to reach the front door.
"Thank you," I said, "I don't know how to thank you properly for all the things you do for me."
"I'm only compensating for the injury I caused," Fuuto rebutted before he left me.