"I don't know," I whine, staring down at my phone. "Do you think she'll respond? Oh god, what if she's blocked my number and the text doesn't reach her at all?"

Senpai laughs, setting a tray of snacks down on the living room table. "That is highly improbable Rubi, considering the fact that Irina doesn't even know how to properly press send without accidentally adding about a dozen emojis to her text, much less block contacts on her phone," she points out, lowering herself onto the tatami mats beside me.

I smile, thinking of all the clowns and whales that often pop up in my chats with her, unexplained. "You're right," I sigh, and Senpai shifts closer to me, drawing my hand away from my lips to spare the remainder of my nails from my relentless nibbling. "Let me see what you wrote," she says, and I pass the phone to her, eager to know what she thinks.

She immediately gags at the screen. "Rubi, how many words is this? When I left you here to come up with a good apology for Irina, I wasn't expecting you to spit out an entire essay!"

Crap, it's too long? "But I have so much to say-"

"And her eyes are probably going to accidentally skip past half of it while skimming through to the end," she says, selecting the entire body of my message with a sigh and hitting delete before a protest can even leave my mouth. I lean forward on my knees and snatch my phone back from her hands, grumbling as I clutch it protectively to my chest.

"Why don't you just ask to meet up?" she suggests. "Won't it be easier to tell her all of this in person?"

It would, it really would, but... "Senpai, she's avoiding me. Why would she agree to that?"

She's about to open her mouth to answer when we hear the main door click open, followed by the rustle of lightly conversing voices and the shuffle of approaching footsteps. Seconds later, Akito and his father emerge into the hallway outside, grocery bags in tow, hair windswept and cheeks pink from the cold, their eyes flying open in identically startled expressions when they notice me sitting inside.

I quickly say hello to Mr. Kai, politely bowing my head in greeting as he stops by the door. I used to see him every so often back when he still lived here with Senpai, but it's been over a year now since we last bumped into each other. He seems to remember me, however, and my heart flutters happily as he gives me a little nod in response, smiling softly before he pries the grocery bags from Akito's fingers and ushers him inside, walking ahead.

Akito slowly steps into the room, his arms stiff at his sides.

"Hey," I say quietly, a twinge in my chest. "You're finally back."

He nods, takes another careful step forward, and lowers his head a little, swirling gaze directed at the ground. "I'm sorry," he mumbles. I lock eyes with Senpai, and she smiles. Ah.

I turn back to him and simply say, "What for?"

His eyes snap up to mine, pupils swimming with regret. "I won't do it again," he whispers, and it's all I need to hear, so I grab his hand and tug him down onto the mats with us. Kurumi-senpai fills him in on what we've been doing, and moments later, I'm sitting with my phone held before my face, Senpai and Akito peering at the screen from over my shoulder on either side of me.

Breathing nervously, I let my thumbs push away at the blinking cursor.

Hey, it's Rubi. How are you?

If it's okay with you, I'd like to meet up sometime soon. There's something I need to tell you.

I stare uncertainly at the screen, until Akito lets his hand rest on my shoulder, silently encouraging. I turn around to look at his face, his eyes meeting mine, and something about the warm sparks of sincerity that I see in them pushes me to be brave. Senpai touches my shaking hand to steady me, and returning my gaze to my phone, I hit send.

Akito stands up. "I'm going to go help Papa in the kitchen. You'll be staying for dinner, I presume?" he asks me.

"Oh, um." My eyes dart to Senpai.

"She's staying," Senpai answers on my behalf. "Make sure to bring out the extra dishes from the storage cabinet."

At that, a small smile shines the light on Akito's face, and it's suddenly like he was never gone at all. "Alright."

When he leaves the room, I set my phone down on the table and turn towards Senpai, attempting to momentarily silence the anxiety. "They're getting along well, then?" I ask, remembering the air of comfort that seemed to hug Akito and his father when they first returned together.

Senpai nods happily. "I can hardly believe it. They even went out and bought some seeds and gardening tools for our yard today. It's great." She smiles, eyes flicking down to the floor, before she whispers with quiet amazement, "I think he's really going to stay with us this time, Rubi. I think we're really going to get to be a family again."

My chest swells, a rush of tears tickling my eyes, because this is what I've wanted for her for as long as I can remember. "You'll finally get to meet her tomorrow, right? His girlfriend? Are you excited?"

"Super excited." She laughs. "I really hope she likes me."

"Of course she will." The fact that she thinks it's even physically possible for anyone not to like her is a little funny to me. I'm about to remind her to give me a call to fill me in on the events of her family dinner tomorrow night, when my phone finally pings. I practically pounce on the table, scrambling to pick it up.

Irina Akiyama (8.15pm) : 4.30 tomorroww , dango shop outside the station

"Yes!" Senpai exclaims once she catches a glimpse of the message, clapping her hands together, and seconds later, thundering footsteps echo in the hall. Akito appears in the doorway, his hair disheveled, a pink apron strung forgotten around his neck. He fixes me with expectant eyes. "Did...did Irina respond?"

"She..." I mumble, my brain only just catching up with the situation. "She did."

His face crumbles in a relieved smile.

I look down at my phone again, heart squeezing.

Thank you.

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There's a small plaza outside the railway station nearest to my highschool, lined with stalls advertising a variety of street food, that I've walked across almost everyday of my life. However, the wooden tables, the familiar signboards, the bustling carts - all the colors and sounds of the area blend together in a hazy spell today, like water spilled over a painting. My pulse jumps erratically as I wade through the small crowd, my legs knowing exactly where to go thanks to muscle memory, despite the panicked state of my mind.

In the span of a few minutes, I'm standing before Irina's favorite dango stall, and staying hidden in the crowd, I spot her sitting at our usual table, her arms crossed as she stares into the distance, eyes unfocused. I notice that as usual, her hair is partitioned in two braids that fall down her front, and my hands automatically come up to tug at my own twin tails, a little self conscious.

I wonder if she'll notice that I've worn my hair differently today.

I wonder if she'll like it.

The longer I watch her, the larger my heart grows, now too big for the confines of my ribcage, and I never knew that hope...could hurt like this. All I have to do now is cross this small distance between us and apologize to her, and if Irina chooses to forgive me, I could really have everything I've ever wanted. The realisation is so heavy that it makes it hard for me to breathe, a tangle of emotions coming together in a tight knot in my chest.

I know without a doubt that Irina will treasure her time with me, treat every moment together with me like it counts. She always has, and yet, it's been so sickeningly hard for me to believe that I could ever be important to someone like her, my heart numb from the pain I felt each time one of my classmates walked past me over the years, failing to recognize me. Eighteen years of being forgotten. Eighteen years of being chosen last. Eighteen years' worth of tears drying away to acceptance.

For so long, it's evaded me that I've never truly been alone, that after every exhausting day at school, I had the train to return to, the seat by Irina's side that she's always saved for me no matter what. Everytime I needed it, she was there to lend me an ear and patiently listen to anything I had to say, to lend me her shoulder any time it looked like I was going to doze off, to lend me her company, when nobody else seemed to want to.

And after everything that she's done for me, every ache that she's helped soothe simply by being around, I still somehow blindly assumed that she was going to abandon me someday, all because I failed to understand that the red strings of fate are simply invitations that one can choose whether or not to accept, not barriers; and it really bites.

Guilt consumes me when I think about the way I've turned her down, over and over, let her feel like her words weren't enough for me, like she wasn't enough, when deep down, I've known all along that nobody else could love her like I do, care for her like I would. I've been so busy digging myself deeper and deeper into this hollow of self pity. Did I ever stop to think about her at all?

But the second that despair flashes it's claws in my chest, reaching for my heart, I begin it fight it.

It doesn't matter what happens today, because even if Irina tells me that she isn't ready to accept my apology, I'm not just going to give up. I'm not just going to accept it. I'm going to continue to try hard to win her back, because despite all the stupid things that I've so stubbornly believed all my life, even I'm not enough of an idiot to make the same mistake twice.

Irina's eyes unintentionally glide my way then, a flicker of something like surprise crossing her features as she takes me in, and chest rising and falling with determination, I start in her direction.

She chooses to remain seated, her gaze silently locked on me, unmoving, and although I've got it all written out in my head - my apology, although I've rehearsed it several times already, I feel the sentences start to unravel the closer that I get to her, my throat tightening up more and more with each step that I take until all I can manage to think is Irina, Irina, Irina

Please.

Will you forgive me?

Stopping before her, I open my mouth, gasping for the words as I attempt to put my apology together again. Deep down, I know what I want to say. But my skipping heart and my stuttering breath simply don't seem to have the strength to push it all out.

Irina regards me, her expression unreadable. "Sit down," she orders after a moment, and I'm unable to do anything but nod, taking the chair beside her.

"Give me your hand," she says next, and I frown slightly, perplexed. When I don't immediately do as she asks, she reaches into my lap and draws my hand out from underneath the table, setting it down before her. I watch, unsure of what to expect as she slips her fingers into the pocket of her skirt, coming up with a small piece of red yarn. I blink as she wordlessly knots one end of the thread to my pinky, releasing my hand to move and tie the other end to hers.

"There," she says once she's done, lifting her finger into the air, and I stare at the flimsy red thread that pulls my hand up after hers, the thin pieces of fibre that hold it together fraying at the sides.

"This is what you wanted, right? Problem solved." I let my eyes dart across her face, the air clogging my throat. "I bought this from a craft store near here, and it's a bit short but...it'll have to do," she says, a little stubborn. My breath hitches, a flood of love crashing into me. "See, now you no longer have a reason to turn me away." God, Irina. "This thread isn't fueled by any sort of astral magic that allows it to stretch or be invisible, inconveniently enough, but I suppose that just means that you'll be stuck to me forever, and if I'm being completely honest, I have no problem with-"

Propping one hand onto the table for support, I lean forward and kiss her flush on the mouth. Irina stiffens, and I slowly pull away, looking into her eyes.

"You okay?" I whisper.

"Yeah, I...I just..." She goes still for a second, emotions flashing across her face too quickly to follow. "I just wasn't expecting...Rubi?" she asks softly, her brows drawing together.

I smile a little. "Irina...I don't need this," I say, yanking the piece of string off our fingers and tossing it onto the table. "I..." I search her lap for her hand and slide my palm against it. "I asked to meet up today because I want to apologize to you. I like you, okay? I like you so much. And...and I feel so terrible about everything that I said to you that day. I've been so stupid, but now...I really do believe that...if you'll be my girlfriend, that we're going to get to be together for a long long time. And it doesn't matter even if you do get sick of me someday, because I'm going to keep fighting for-"

Irina takes advantage of our locked hands to yank hard at my arm, pulling me into her, and I'm cut off mid-sentence by another kiss.

Her free hand comes up to cradle my jaw, the warm brush of her lips sending a shiver trickling down my back, and I make a confused noise of protest in my throat, because...damn you Irina, I wasn't done talking. But then our noses bump together a little as she tilts her head the other way, her mouth firmer against mine, and it feels kind of nice, so I decide to let it go, heart pressing up against my lungs as I squeeze my eyes shut.

She lowers her hands to hold on to my elbows, and I feel the tickle of her exhale, my body warm all over. When she pulls back to look at me, I blush furiously, floundering as the words to my speech begin to slip away from me all over again. "I...w-well..."

Irina's lips twirl in a coy smile as she examines me. "You were saying?"

Oh, screw it. I push forward, and once again, peck her softly on the lips, catching her off guard. She immediately blushes, her hand coming up to hover over her mouth as soon as I withdraw from her, almost like she means to touch the kiss to make sure it was really there. I sit back, regarding her with something like awe. "Huh. So you can get flustered too."

She cuts me an annoyed glance, the flush spreading to her ears. "I can't help it, alright? I'm not used to this at all. I never thought that you'd be the one to kiss me first. I-" My knee bumps hers as, without warning, I move in to kiss her again, and before I can overthink it, I slowly run my tongue along her bottom lip this time. Her entire body freezes, and I laugh a little at the stunned look in her wide eyes as I break away, my heart beating wildly in my ears.

"You do remember that we're in public, right?" she grumbles, visibly bothered.

I shrug, smiling nonchalantly. "A little PDA never hurt anyone." She gapes at me.

"You're awfully confident today," she notes, frowning.

"You don't like it?"

"Of course I like it." She sighs. "A little too much, probably." I laugh again, and she makes a frustrated noise in her throat, letting her fingers glide down my forearms to take my hands in a tight grip. "But I'm not going to let you win," she mutters, unyielding as she tugs me forward till her face is all I can see.

"Oh, this is a game?" I ask playfully. "In that case, I have four points already, and you only have one."

"Not for long." She pushes her hands up against mine, entwining our fingers together and leaning closer to gently touch my forehead to hers. "You look cute today," she whispers into the space between us, sighing softly, and my heart staggers, swelling even bigger than it was before, a warm flush crawling up by neck. "Irina," I gasp. "I still need to finish my apology."

"Don't want your apology," she mumbles. "I want something else." Something else, huh? There's a part of me that doesn't want to be one upped, so I bend forward to surprise her again, but Irina simply closes her eyes this time, quietly leaning into the kiss, and I forget all about where we are or why we're here, my head swimming. "Irina," I say, and we kiss once, twice, again and again and again, everything we feel for each other condensed into a single touch, and her lips are rubbery and warm and...wow, I really really like this, don't I?

We break apart after a while, our noses brushing as Irina's eyes flicker open, and I suddenly feel all sweaty and shy, like she's looking at me for the first time. "We should probably...one more time," she says, softly bumping our lips together, before she draws back, her hand slipping past my ear to stroke my jaw, a hint of a smile on her face. "Mm. One more time," she breathes, kissing me again, and then a second time, and a third, and stomach squirming with butterflies, I laugh a little against her mouth.

She sighs happily as she sits back, her thumb gently smoothing over my knuckles, smiling at me so tenderly that it makes my heart squeeze, my legs liquefying underneath her gaze.

"Rubi?" she asks tentatively.

"Yeah?" I answer, voice cracking.

"This might be the best day of my life," she says honestly, and I choke out a laugh.

"Don't be silly," I mumble, embarrassed.

"Really," she insists, cheeks tinged a light pink.

I glance away from her. "Mine too," I mumble, and she immediately goes quiet.

"God, Rubi," she grumbles after a moment, troubled. "I'm really not sure if I'll ever really get used to this."

I want to take advantage of the direction the conversation has steered in to make a flirtatious remark, but my chest is so full from the impossibility of the moment that I simply end up blurting, "You um, you will."

"And you're going to make sure of that?" she teases.

"N-No, well...yes, but..." I stutter, flustered, and a triumphant smile takes over Irina's face. Holy heck, she's cute.

I kind of want to kiss her again.

Cushioned by a soft silence, I let my eyes rove across her bright face, the graze of her touch and the warmth from her lips lingering in my memories, and a realization crashes into me like a boulder, electricity sparking in the nerves of my brain. I have no reason to hold back. I stare at her, breathing hard.

For the first time in my life, I can kiss her if I want to.

I lean forward again, pushing off my chair a little to reach her mouth, kissing her hard. "I like you so much," I admit, sitting back down, and a sheen flashes across her eyes. "Yeah," she says quietly. "Me too."

I can kiss her if I want to

and it's so wonderful.

"So..." I say, a little awkward, the embarrassment from my actions finally catching up to me. "Do you want to go and get some dango now? Or...or we can do something else, because it would...it would be our first date, so..."

"Dango sounds great," she says, nodding. "Let's go." She pulls me to my feet, her fingers curling tightly around mine, steering me through the crowd that has gradually started to thicken into the evening, and I feel a little shell-shocked as we walk, staring at our interlocked hands, because it's kind of unbelievable that I know what it feels like to kiss Irina now, to touch her face, hold her hand like this, and the happiness beats down on me, forcing me to breathe in larger gulps of air.

Once we arrive at the stall, Irina leans across the counter to peek into the small kitchen inside. "Mr. Kimura?" she calls, and the owner approaches us, grinning brightly as he flings a dishcloth onto his shoulder. "I see you brought Rubi along today. So, what'll it be?" he asks, and Irina looks at me once, a suspicious glint in her eyes. "You don't happen to have a couples' discount, do you?" she asks him, and a delighted smile immediately crosses over his face.

I blush, swatting weakly at her hand, exasperated. "Good for you, kiddo. About damn time I'd say," the owner pleasantly exclaims, shrugging off Irina's stubborn glare to pat her on the head, and I laugh at the unlikely scene before me. He smiles at me warmly before dissappearing into the kitchen to bring us our dango, and once we take our places at the counter, he tells me to take good care of Irina, because, as he puts it, she's really hopeless when it comes to the affairs of the heart.

Once we finish our rice dumplings and break away onto the main street, I look up at Irina. "You told Mr. Kimura about me?"

She simply nods. "He's very kind, he let me vent to him about my feelings for you for years."

"Oh," I mumble, gaze falling to the ground, my cheeks hot from the embarrassment, and Irina smiles at me, idly twirling her finger around my ponytail. "I'd love it if you wore your hair like this everyday," she says softly.

"You like it?" I ask, eyes flickering up to hers.

"Yeah," she replies, her hand dropping down to tug at my fingers. "I really do. I really really do. Don't ever take them off." An embarrassed smile plays at my lips as I grab her hand, our palms slotting together.

"Rubi," she says.

"Yeah?"

"I'm a little afraid that I might be dreaming."

Oh man, Irina really can be too much sometimes. "Maybe you are," I answer gleefully.

"It's possible," she agrees. "I dream about you quite a lot, after all."

I look up at her in surprise, then blush, averting my eyes back to the floor. She laughs, a sound as sweet and clear as honey water. "That made your heart race, didn't it? Do I get a point?" she asks eagerly, and I groan, my face hot.

"Okay fine," I eventually grumble, giving in begrudgingly, and she touches her smiling mouth to the back of my hand, earning herself yet another point.

We continue our little game as we walk home, stealing kisses at each turn, and inspite of my head start, I'm starting to see that it's a little hopeless for me, but I'm giddy and light-headed from being able to do and say everything that my aching heart has begged me not to for years, and I find that I don't really mind losing all that much.

There's a part of me that's a little sad when I think about how I could have gotten to walk by her side while holding her hand all this time, if I had just realised the truth about my life sooner. When I think about how I could have brought her home with me after school everyday if I wanted to, how my life could have always been this wonderful, how I've wasted so much time, but then I glance up at Irina again, and she looks back at me, smiling curiously, and I know.

She's not going to go anywhere.

It's going to be okay.

When we get home, we say hi to Mom and bolt right up the stairs to my room, agreeing to hold off on telling her about us because I know that Mom is going to make us pose for about a million pictures in the living room to commemorate the day once she knows, and neither of us has the patience for it right now.

When Irina finally steps into my bedroom, she turns around, cheeks reddening as her eyes take on a serious look. "Okay. Enough playing around."

I smile, shut the door behind me, and fall into her arms.

END OF CHAPTER

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A/N:

That was the first kiss I've ever written and boy did it take me a long time to get it right (｡ŏ﹏ŏ) To think I have to write another one.