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Hitoya stared down at the heart-shaped card, the teacher’s lecture an annoying buzz in the background. He tossed and turned the pink piece of paper over and over again under his desk, rereading the words etched into the heart with blue ink.
The card wasn’t signed.
“Psst— Hitoya!” An irritating voice whispered beside him.
Hitoya clutched the card tight, his gaze flicking over to his classmate. “What?” he muttered back.
The teacher’s back was turned as he sprawled chalk over the blackboard in an attempt to explain whatever it was Hitoya had tuned out. Normally, Hitoya would be paying careful attention to the lesson being taught (he wouldn’t want to fall behind after all), but his thoughts were occupied by a stupid piece of paper looping like a hit song on the radio.
“Did you get a valentine?” The classmate pointed unsubtly at the card.
Hitoya fought the urge to roll his eyes. There was no need for any of his classmates to be curious; plenty of them had received gifts today.
“No,” he said flatly. “Shut up, I’m trying to focus.”
“What does it say?”
“Nothing.”
He already had the contents of the card memorized. Not like it was difficult to remember, the message was short enough: I admire you a lot. You’re hardworking and kind. Happy Valentine’s Day, Hitoya.
The card was clearly homemade, the heart being a little uneven and the cheap construction paper being a dead giveaway when Hitoya first found it in his locker that morning, but even so, Hitoya couldn’t make sense of why anyone would write something like that to him.
“Ohhh,” his classmate dragged the sound out, a cheeky grin spreading across the guy’s face. “You’re gonna confess to someone then?”
A few heads turned.
Heat crept up Hitoya’s neck. “No!”
“Mr. Amaguni,” the teacher suddenly gained consciousness apparently and was looking expectantly at Hitoya,“Is there an issue?”
Hitoya gritted his teeth. “N-no, sir.”
“Hitoya’s gonna give someone a valentine, sir!”
Hitoya snapped his head around. “That’s not true! Don’t make up lies!”
“What? Hitoya, who is it for?” someone asked excitedly.
“Is it the girl in class B?”
“Nah it can’t be her,” another chimed in.
“Is it a confession, Hitoya?”
How many times were people going to ask him that?
“It’s not a confession!” Hitoya groaned, trying to ignore the unpleasant heat he felt consuming his face.
The bell rang, signaling the start of lunch. Still, his classmates lingered, their attention continuing to be occupied on the folded paper in Hitoya’s hand.
“Someone you admire, then?”
Hitoya’s grip on the card tightened until the paper crinkled.
“It must be for Jinguji, right?”
.
Now.
There are two things Hitoya couldn’t stand. The first is when people don’t know how to mind their own business. The second? Jinguji Jakurai.
“Jakurai?” Hitoya’s voice rasped.
The seconds drag by in renewed silence; the teacher hurriedly leaves the room with a muttered “see you tomorrow” as the class quiets down significantly at Hitoya’s outburst. More than a few gazes drifted to the back of the classroom, where Jakurai sat.
“Ah,” Jakurai said mildly, noticing the sudden spotlight on him.
Hitoya decided he was done with all these baseless accusations. He shoved his chair back so hard it screeched, the sound cutting through the room like a knife.
“Jakurai!” Hitoya shouted, slamming his hands down on the other boy’s desk.
Jakurai looked up from his desk, blinking in surprise. “Yes?”
“Are you enjoying this, Jakurai?”
“What do you mean, Hitoya?”
Then he smiled all calm and polite– something he does when he expresses pity.
Hitoya could’ve sworn he felt his eye twitch. “Don’t act dumb!” he seethed, gesturing vaguely at the room.
Jakurai glanced around, noticing his classmate’s stares. “Oh,” he said. “Is it distracting?”
“What?” Hitoya gawked in disbelief. “That is not the point!”
Jakurai tilted his head to the side, looking thoughtful. “Would you prefer to speak outside?”
“Don’t change the subject, Jakurai, that is so unnecessary.”
“He wasn’t even changing the subject though,” someone whispered, barely audible.
Another replied with a hush, “Just leave it be, Hitoya always takes things too personally with Jinguji.”
Hitoya opted to ignore their incorrect judgements entirely. Instead, focusing on the way Jakurai pretended to look confused.
“Oh, I’m not trying to change the subject, Hitoya,” Jakurai tried to explain. “I thought maybe you would prefer to discuss matters in private.”
“There is nothing to discuss!” Hitoya yelled. “Stop trying to avoid the issue here!”
Remaining perfectly calm, Jakurai studied Hitoya’s face. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
So, he’s still joking around, huh?
“Of course you don’t,” Hitoya muttered. Louder, he added, “Don’t you dare expect anything from me, Jakurai!”
“Expect anything?” Jakurai echoed with a frown.
Hitoya glared. “I’m not giving you a valentine,” he said firmly, like he was laying down a legal boundary.
Jakurai blinked. “Oh,” he murmured. He shook his head gently, that infuriating softness returning. “That’s quite alright. I didn’t expect anything in return, Hitoya.” He stood up slowly, his hand stabilizing the desk Hitoya had previously abused.
What is he talking about? This has nothing to do with anything!
“What are you talking about, Jakurai? Are you fucking with me?” he demanded.
Jakurai looked down at him– Hitoya hated that– and something shifted in his expression.
“...Did you think the card was from someone else?”
Hitoya’s silence was enough of an answer as he processed the implications of Jakurai’s words.
Jakurai’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Oh dear. I didn’t sign it, did I?”
The blood roared in Hitoya’s ears. No response came out of his mouth, feeling feverish all of a sudden, and the bustling murmurs of his classmates weren’t much comfort either.
“It must’ve slipped my mind,” Jakurai said apologetically.
“You– you did that on purpose!” Hitoya lashed out, his face burning with the twisted feeling of humiliation. “You think you’re so smart, messing with people like that!?”
“No, I didn’t mean–” Jakurai tried to start.
“Don’t lie to me!” Hitoya cut in. “You think I don’t notice your pity?”
Hitoya didn’t wait for an answer. He stormed out of the room, pointedly ignoring the way several of his classmates burst into laughter the second he left. The rattling that came from Hitoya slamming the sliding door was deafening.
Jakurai stood there for a moment, stunned, hand half-raised like he’d been about to say something else.
“…I see,” he murmured softly.
He sat back down, staring at the desk in front of him, thinking.
“…Perhaps chocolates would have explained it better.”
–
Stupid Jakurai.
Hitoya paced, fuming. I don’t want anything in return. Yeah, right. Hitoya knew Jakurai was making fun of him. He doesn’t want anything in return? That just meant Hitoya had to give him a card back– that would catch Jakurai off guard for sure! Maybe then Jakurai will get a taste of his own medicine. Yes. Hitoya liked this plan. Dare he say, it was genius.
It was this determination that allowed Hitoya to spend the first half of the lunch period cutting out the most perfectly shaped heart he could muster– as long as it was better looking than Jakurai’s sorry excuse of a heart– out of a ripped out sheet of notebook paper. It took him a few tries, and Hitoya hated wasting so much paper, but eventually Hitoya was satisfied with the flimsy, blank heart.
The rest of the lunch period was spent staring at it.
The heart stared back at him. Empty.
Hitoya scowled, picking up a pen.
He didn’t really think about what he would write on it. He told himself he shouldn’t care about what he wrote, that it didn’t matter and that this was actually really stupid and this was just to get everyone to shut up about the whole situation. And it was all for the satisfaction of seeing that dumb look on Jakurai’s face gone for even just a fraction of a second.
None of that stopped his hand from gripping the pen hard enough to make his fingers ache.
He wrote fast and messy, like if he didn’t look at the words, they wouldn’t count.
Here. Happy Valentine’s.
He stared at it. Then, glaring at nothing in particular, he shoved it into his pocket and went to find Jakurai.
–
Jakurai wasn’t normally difficult to find. Today, though, he apparently decided to spend his lunch hour not at his desk.
Of course, Hitoya thought to himself. Running away.
Hitoya knew Jakurai was messing with him! He must’ve predicted that Hitoya was going to get his revenge and got all scared and went to hide. What a coward. Jakurai can’t even face him properly!
Not that it mattered much. Hitoya would find him before the hour was up, that was a promise. Hitoya had already taken the time to scour the halls for Jakurai with no avail; he may be hiding, but it wasn’t like he could have left the premise entirely.
He wouldn’t be hiding out in another classroom, would he? It’s not like Hitoya kept tabs on Jakurai or anything, but it was clear the guy didn’t have many friends– or any for that matter.
Hitoya was his friend, though. He thinks.
It’s not like he isn’t friends with Jakurai. Jakurai was just frustrating sometimes.
He stomped down the corridor. There’s only one other place Jakurai could be at this time. Hitoya’s confidence in that is absolute, at least. Yet a new trickle of uncertainty pokes fun at his head.
For a brief moment, Hitoya considers if he truly wants to get back at Jakurai for embarrassing him.
That moment passed.
–
The thing is that Hitoya can be, when the moment calls for, a very mindful person.
Especially when it comes to situations that happen to take place in quiet places such as the library. Jakurai was, exactly where Hitoya had thought he’d be, sitting quietly at one of the tables working on… something. Is he studying for exams?
Hitoya felt his pride falter; his hand that fished the card out of his pocket felt clammy and warm all of a sudden.
Was he nervous?
There’s no way. Jakurai was just getting in his head!
Reminding himself of how Jakurai ruined Hitoya’s peace for the day was enough for Hitoya to disregard any awareness for Jakurai’s own. Hitoya could try to be quiet about it, though. It would be the respectful thing to do for anyone else who happened to be studying.
Hitoya wasted no time making quick, triumphant strides over to where Jakurai sat.
He planted the paper heart down firmly on top of Jakurai’s array of papers. “There,” Hitoya declared in a low voice. “Now you can stop looking so smug.”
Jakurai looked up, startled. “…Is this for me?”
“No,” Hitoya snapped automatically. He adjusted his tone. “I mean– yeah. Obviously! Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
Jakurai picked it up carefully, like it was something fragile. He read it once. And then he read it again.
He glanced up at Hitoya with a sudden smile. It wasn’t that typical polite smile that Hitoya had grown accustomed to, no. It was bright and happy and Hitoya didn’t like the flip his stomach did in response.
“Thank you,” Jakurai said warmly. “I’ll cherish this.” His eyes met Hitoya’s own.
Hitoya recoiled like he’d been burned. “What is wrong with you?” His voice cracked with the sudden increase in volume. “Why are you always like this?!”
Well, he never promised he’d be quiet, right?
Jakurai blinked. “I’m unsure what you mean, Hitoya,” he wondered aloud. “Like… grateful?”
“It’s just a card!” Hitoya fulminated, stepping back like Jakurai’s sunny smile was contagious. “You don’t have to act like it means something important!”
“But it does,” Jakurai said simply and his smile was revoltingly genuine.
Hitoya stared at him.
“You’re a pain,” he muttered, turning away. “Now, we’re even!”
He fled the library at a near-run, ears burning, heart pounding rapidly inside his chest.
Jakurai watched him go, the lined paper heart still in his hands, thumb brushing over the messy handwriting. He smiled to himself, wide and unguarded.
This wasn’t the same feeling as before. Earlier, it had been admiration. Hitoya was his friend, of course Jakurai had wanted to show his appreciation.
He truly hadn’t expected anything in return.
But Hitoya had gone out of his way to do so anyway– on such short notice too. It made Jakurai’s chest feel warm in a new way.
He isn’t quite sure what to name it.