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V A L E N T I N E ' S D A Y
tadashi yamaguchi
i n s p o : "Aishiteru Game wo Owarasetai"
manga author: doumoto, yuuki
w a r n i n g s : none
c a t e g o r y : fluff
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"I love you," Yamaguchi chirps happily from the windowsill of the classroom which looks into the hallway.
From your seat nearest to it, you glance over and roll your eyes, "Nope. Still not embarrassed," you grin smugly as you fold your arms across your chest.
"I figured, but here's that drink you wanted," he smiles, handing you the beverage through the window. He would've stayed to chat a bit longer, but he heard his name being called down the hall and bid you a rushed goodbye.
"You guys are so weird."
From the seat beside you, your friend remarks about your strange, passing interaction with Yamaguchi— a boy you've made very clear to your friend over and over again, are not currently dating, just friends.
You shrug, returning to your workbook, "It's just a game."
"A weird one. No one just goes around saying 'I love you' casually like the two of you do. It's so weird."
"Not weird," you insist, "just a game we've been playing since we were kids and I'm determined to win."
"Remind me again what the purpose of this stupid game is?"
You put your pencil down and turn towards her, "We would always try to one-up each other as kids and Tadashi proposed the idea of trying to make the other embarrassed. So now we're taking turns saying 'I love you'. The first person to feel even remotely embarrassed loses. It's been four years. I'm not losing now."
She cocks an eyebrow at you with a sly grin, "But you actually do like him, right?"
"No I don't!"
"Your blushing cheeks suggest otherwise."
"I am not!"
"If Yamaguchi was still here, you'd lose in a heartbeat... which I assume, right now, is beating really fast."
"Shut up!" you exclaim, slamming a hand on your desktop rattling everything on its surface.
"What happens if he actually catches feelings for another girl?" she asks. "The game would end, right, with no winner so you would've wasted how many years trying to claim a pointless victory?"
You turn to look out the window where Yamaguchi once was, "If he likes another girl, so be it. I would still claim victory in the end because I'll be the last person to say 'I love you'."
"Because it'll be when you're confessing to him."
"Exactly— NO!" quickly, your head whips back with a fearful look in your eyes from your casual admittance to feelings you've tried to deny for a while for the sake of an arbitrary game that means more to you than the possibility of a relationship.
Your friend sits back in her seat, smug with herself as she folds her arms across her chest. "Caught."
"No... it's not like that," you weakly insist, your power from earlier is gone. It's more than obvious you're lying to yourself and your friend. "I mean, if I said I liked him and he didn't like me back, I would lose. No way I'll do that."
"Here's a crazy thought, what if he likes you back?"
"I doubt it. We're just childhood friends, that's all he sees me as."
"You've had so much practice saying 'I love you', just keep saying it to him and work up to the actual confession."
The gnawing anxiety of a true confession is eating you from inside out after having been suppressed for who knows how long— years. "I'm scared," you whisper, the fear written all over your face.
Your friend smiles, reaching to place a hand on your arm reassuringly, "You have no reason to be. Just make the next time you say it real and if he gets freaked out, take it back and say it's another joke. You have nothing to lose."
With a deep inhale, there's something you need to do to wipe that smug glow off your friend's face so she can see the truth as to why confessing is impossible. "Let's go," you say, taking the hand that's holding your arm.
You pull her up and march out of the classroom with her struggling to keep up behind you.
"Where are we going?" she calls, staring at the back of your head trying to glance around you.
"I'm at a deficit. It's my turn."
"Right now?!" she squeals, looking around as if expecting Yamaguchi to appear from thin air. "I thought you were scared?"
Determined, you head towards the staircase which leads to the second years' floor. "I'll show you why confessing is impossible."
Weaving through crowds of people during this lunch hour, you round the corner leading your friend by the wrist to see the exact person you've been looking for. Yamaguchi is sitting on the staircase with two of his other club members as they work together on a set of problems. At lunch, Yamaguchi typically sought help from a club member one year ahead so he could maintain his position in the honors section. As much as you would've liked to have been the person he sought extra help from, the lectures would never match up and he's doing work you won't be seeing for another two months.
Once you're close enough, you call out, "Tadashi!"
Yamaguchi lifts his head, along with the two others—Ennoshita and Kinoshita upon closer inspection— he's sitting with. Once he sees you, his smile immediately brightens as his face lights up, "Hey, what's up?"
You let go of your friend's wrist and fold your arms across your chest, looking at him with that same determination that brought you here. "I love you," you state clearly without hesitation.
"Woah," Ennoshita gasps in surprise at your sudden and bold confession. He turns his head to sneak peaks at Kinoshita and Yamaguchi. Kinoshita is equally, if not more, shocked and mirroring his exact expression.
Yamaguchi, unfazed, remains smiling, "I love you, too," he repeats back easily with a fond gaze in his eyes.
Kinoshita grasps at Ennoshita's jacket, jerking it excitedly as if to ask 'Are you seeing this?!'. Ennoshita frantically nods, fully entranced with the scene his juniors are creating.
You sigh, shaking your head, "I figured." With a look over your shoulder, "Let's go," you tell your friend and leave peacefully without another word exchanged between you and Yamaguchi. Not a single care to help Yamaguchi explain the circumstance you created; the only thing on your mind is returning to the classroom after having experienced another soul-crushing blow to your confidence.
Plopping back in your seat, your friend soon to follow, you ask, "So did you see that?" The clear disappointment staining your voice.
"Yeah..." she says hesitantly, "he smiled and looked like he meant it when he said it back to you."
"No," shaking your head, "that's just his usual, stupid friendly grin. He doesn't think of me that way."
"I think you're overthinking things. Guys are simple. The two of you have been playing this game for so long you've probably gone blind to the signs. I think he really does mean what he's saying to you. I don't think it's a game to him anymore."
"I think you're the blind one."
"Listen to me. Valentine's Day is next week. Confess for real this time."
You gesture towards the door, growing more irritable that she isn't understanding the point you tried to make, "I just confessed today."
"No. You know what I mean. End this game."
"I... can't," you slump over your desk, placing a cheek to the cold surface.
She smiles softly, "You're scared. Everyone is. But no one has ever had as much practice confessing to their actual crush in the way you have. You can do it." Placing a hand on your shoulder, she holds the other up in a fist. "And if he makes you cry, I'll still be here with ice cream and shitty romcom movies. It's a win-win situation either way."
You laugh, "Alright. I do like winning."
The passing days leading up to the fateful day are filled with endless toe-tapping and excess fidgeting in classes from the anxiety now being allowed to bloom in full. There were more confessions of course, and each ended in the exact same fashion. The only change being the increasing small details that would linger in your mind each time you and Yamaguchi would hang out in any capacity. Be it a passing greeting in the hallway and you'd notice that he rushed to get ready that morning because his hair was lying in a new, messy pattern. Or casually sitting in front of the gym playing card games to pass the time before his practice and you'd notice the slender shape of his fingers and some with tape from slight injury.
Those details are becoming more and more persistent and are taking up valuable space in your brain which you swear is clouding your judgment more than normal and the reason details about Yamaguchi are stealing importance.
The morning of Valentine's Day is a weekend and you sent Yamaguchi a message to meet up at his house in the afternoon because you're bored.
In seconds, he replies to you in agreement and that any time is fine.
It's all coming to an end. It's a scary realization that a four year long game will come to its fateful end by the conclusion of today. No matter what, you are determined to confess. Take it or leave it, it would be Yamaguchi's problem, you figure, to deal with and you would emerge as the victor regardless of what his response is. Also asking to meet up in his room is all a part of your plan as well. Should he break your heart then it will be his bedroom walls to be tainted with your sorrow for him to suffer with for as long as he shall live in that room.
A win-win situation.
It's small, but you did have a small gift prepared to give him if he accepts your confession. It is Valentine's Day, you rationalize, it's not creepy to have chocolates prepared; you weren't being overbearing.
"You never like coming to my room anymore. Why the sudden self-invite?" Yamaguchi asks, leading the way into his room after having gone down to get you at the door since his mom had gone out to buy groceries and locked the door behind her. Otherwise, you would have gladly let yourself in.
You shrug, following him inside the familiar room of light blue wall paint, "Felt like it, just want to see if you still have that childish stuffed animal near your bed," immediately eyeing the stuffed elephant plushie he's had since he won it at the town fair when you two were in primary school.
"Mr. Stuffles is not childish!" he retorts, picking up the stuffed animal lovingly, "he's a protector, guarding my room while I'm away."
Stunned, you blurt, "You're making this so much easier."
"Making what easier? Are you gonna prank me?! What's in your bag?"
"Something that may or may not be for you."
"I don't like the sound of that. Get her Mr. Stuffles!" Yamaguchi throws the stuffed elephant in your direction, bouncing off your arm and going in a new direction towards the floor.
"Stop it!" you playfully swat your arms, deflecting any other possible attacks to come.
"Really though," he says, suddenly sounding a bit more serious, "what's on your mind?"
You drop your eyes and wander around his room for a bit. Despite having not been inside for maybe a year or so, nothing really appears to have changed. Surprisingly, it's still clean and his books are neatly tucked and aligned in his book shelf. His school uniform is hanging on his closet door and the bed is made— that is the newest detail. Yamaguchi always hated making his bed. You weren't sure when he picked up the habit to actually make his bed, but it causes a slight pain in your chest to know that even though the two of you are closer than ever, there are still details about his life you were missing.
You walk over to his dresser where he keeps a lot of his more personal items, photographs. One catches your eye, "This is a picture of us on the swings at the park," you say, picking it up
Yamaguchi comes over and stands behind you, looking over your shoulder, "Oh that, yeah. Seems like so long ago when you were once cute."
"Hey! I'm still cute!" you defend as you glance back to look up and find him smiling.
Yamaguchi looks at you for a few moments before quietly saying, "You are. I love you."
You aren't sure why, but something in the way Yamaguchi said those words to you sounded differently than before. The feeling from your fingertips drains as the plummeting sensation in your stomach returns. With a cautious tone, you ask, "Hey... do you mean that?"
"Are you embarrassed?" he asks calmly.
You are, but admittance means losing, "No..."
"Then the game continues."
You turn to face him. Looking directly at him, unknowingly channeling that same energy you used to confess to him on the stairs at school last week, you blurt a bit too quickly, "I love you."
He laughs, teasing you back, "Noooope. Nothing."
"No. I mean it," you follow and watch as the smile fades from his face slowly. He's giving you the most sincere expression you've ever seen.
Several seconds of silence pass, Yamaguchi waiting since it seems you have more to say on the tip of your tongue. You inhale deeply, exhale just as sharply.
"Tadashi, I'm in love with you."
Nothing about the sincerity of his expression changes, but he asks for clarity, "You mean it?"
"Yes," you answer unafraid, the biggest hurdle has been tackled, but now to settle your petty pride, "are you embarrassed?" you ask out of routine.
"No," he answers without missing a beat, "because loving you isn't an embarrassment."
"Do you love me?"
A smile grows wide, teeth and all as he goofily gapes at you, "I've been in love with you for a while now. Thanks for noticing."
"But every time I asked you, you always said no."
"You asked if I was embarrassed by what you said and I answered honestly. I'm not— and never will be— embarrassed to love you."
You test your luck once again, "I love you."
Yamaguchi takes a step closer to you, still wearing the proud smile of his feelings, "I love you more."
"No, that's not possible," you tease, finally able to smile now that you feel immensely lighter with the weight of your confession now alleviated from your shoulders. "Is this going to become our new game?"
"Maybe." Without warning, he reaches out to pull you into his chest as he rests his chin on top of your head.
"You're just going to hug me out of nowhere?!" you whisper in shock, inhaling the familiarity of his scent now mixed with the fragrance of his deodorant not from the childhood they share.
"I've hugged you so many times before this." His voice sounds much louder when you listen to it against his chest. "You don't want me to?"
"You can..." agreeing as you relax further against him and recognizing the changes you hadn't before, like the rigidity of his muscles from the countless late nights at practice or the delicacy of how he held you in his arms as if you'd break if he squeezed you too tightly. It's been a while since the last hug you two shared, hugging is a taboo topic in middle school for some reason.
The blissful peace of the moment is broken as Yamaguchi whispers under his breath, "We've never kissed though."
"What?" you gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes wondering how he could suggest something like that.
He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, "Can I kiss you?"
"Isn't that moving a bit fast?"
"We've been saying 'I love you' to one another for the past four years. I think we're taking this very slowly."
He did have a logic to his reasoning, you ponder. It would be a lie to say the thought hadn't crossed your mind at least once or twice, or three times, four... more. You're just as curious as he is, but unwilling to appear too eager, you nod slowly, "Then, sure."
Yamaguchi smiles, placing a hand beneath your chin, brushing his thumb along your jaw and your cheek. That same gaze fondly taking you in earnestly, elated to have you in his arms like this, finally able to share moments like this with you after years of only being able to dream of things like this.
He gently tilts your chin up towards him and he bends his head down for his lips to brush against yours shyly before pulling back; the embarrassment had taken over him.
Your eyes open and you stare at him, bewildered, "You call that a kiss?" Giddy, watching the tips of his ears turn bright crimson.
Yamaguchi begins to stutter in defense, but quickly silences when you lift a hand to pull him back down by the front of his shirt. Your lips meet his once again and the heat of the moment which had been surrounding the two of you is now spreading against the soft skin of your lips. The tension in his body in response to the initial shock of your bold move melts and he places a hand at the base of your neck as he kisses you back forgetting all his shyness.
His hand travels up through your hair and the other holds you steady against the small of your back. It's a first kiss that could've fooled anyone the way the two of you conform perfectly to the curves of one another, giving and taking at all the right moments. Perhaps it's a skill that comes from knowing the other so well like the back of your hand.
You pull away first, ragged breaths matched by the heavy lids of your eyes drunk on the taste of him.
He's an equal mess. "I love you," he says breathlessly.