Y/N's diary. 

He remembered seeing one of those when he visited. That was when he discovered it. 

The ravenette looked around the room as Y/N rushed out of the room to help her father with some cooking. Her mother wasn't there anymore to help with the cooking so often she had to help her father with cooking, but ge wished she didn't.

He wasn't sure what a girl's room is to be like. He has never been to a girl's bedroom, and in a sense, it was like a different world to him. Although he's been to her house multiple times, he never went to her room. That was her privacy. 

He's heard that girls' rooms were full of pink and dolls but that wasn't true. He was told  the room was to be full of pampered items that apparently girls received from her parents like a princess in a royal family, a large room with just as large as a bed and everything else would have been the same size in comparison. The room was supposed to smell "sugar and spice, and everything nice," but then again a blonde moran told him that. He also said that that was what girls were made of. He was also told a girl's bed was stuffed with stuffed animals while they had fairytale characters adorned on their sheets and blankets. A girl's room in his imagination had a wide window, and in them were pots and pots of roses and flowers that was the source of the room's scent. He expected scented candles to have lit the room like a medieval castle that dimly lit the room. Posters of cartoon female characters that other children would watch was what he thought he would have seen. 

However, it wasn't like that. Her room wasn't as big as a living room, and her bed was definitely not a Kings mattress. Her walls weren't of the pink, pasty color he imagined, rather, it was a sleek gray, with a touch of blue into it, and none of the surfaces were decorated, except for the coverage of shelves. Shelves stocked with books and some picture frames of the happy family. Pictures of frames, and even an individual picture with him and her.  Only a few chairs and a desk, along with a bed, which was tucked into a corner. Her bed only had a few plushies, one of which was a cat plush, which was a chubby tabby with a thick tail and soft cotton ears and green buttons for eyes. Smiling gently, he took the plush and toyed with it quite a bit, imaging it as a living cat. He petted its head gently and he imagined it would be purring, curling to his attention. He looked at the tag. 

"Hi! I'm your cat friend, Coffee!"

Coffee, huh?

He smiled satisfyingly, before laying down the plush and looking around the room more.

He looked over the desk. Some books were stacked against it, and some office supplies littered the wooden surface. What caught his attention was one of the titles of a book. 

"My Diary #2: 12/30/20XX-"

He picked it up, wondering what his friend's thoughts were like and what her life was like everyday. When did she ever write for a diary? He didn't remember any of this. But then again, why would his twelve-year old brain think about that. 

"Hey Sho! I'm back, sorry, I had to help my- Shota!" Y/N said as she peered through the door, snatching the book from his hands as he was about to open and read its content. 

"Y/N, what is that?" he asked. He obviously knew what it was, but what mattered was what it meant to Y/N. 

"It's just a diary, I swear! Please don't tell anybody please! Please, please, don't tell anyone! Please!"

"Fine..."he answered, but then thought of a sinister plan. "Only if you let me read it."

"Nooooo, please Sho! Please don't do this to me!" she pleaded, dropping on her knees as she sobbed dramatically. "I'll die if you tell anyone."

"I could still tell Nem and Zashi," he replied, smirking smugly. 

"Noooooo! Please! Anyone but them!"

"Okay, okay, fine. But... I get to read at least five pages of it."

"Errr... fine..." she said with flushed cheeks. Aizawa wondered why she would be so embarrassed of it. Was it that it was wrong to write a diary? Was it because of what she wrote?

Maybe it was both. 

"Why are you so embarrassed about it?"

"Huh? Oh... well... I guess people would make fun of me. And I... just write what I think, and it's really weird and stuff..."

He hummed in response, before tracing his fingers over the spine of the book, then, opening it to a random page of writing. 

"Only 5 pages, okay Sho! You promised!"

"I didn't promise anything."

"Shoooooooooo!" she whined desperately. "I'll be watching, if you pass five pages, I will take the book and then throw you out of the window!"

"I don't think you're strong enough to do that, but sure," he teased, then gazing down at the handwriting. 

It was neat and curvy, but little, taking only half of the lines. It was almost mesmerizing, like the kind of handwriting used in ancient and sacred spells that would be casted from sorcerers. It was enchanting and pulled him further, enticing him with its words as his eyes scanned the pages. 

His eyes widened at the new found information, and Y/N noticed, looking over his shoulder and also mimicking the same shocked reaction, taking the book, and shutting it. 

"Y/N... you l-like me?"

Flustered and humiliated, she stuttered out denials. "No, no, I don't! It was just a joke! Why would I like someone like you!"

The last words struck him as it sent a pang of pain into him. "Oh, okay," he said dejectedly. It stung and shot through his heart, his shoulders inflating as a dread was laid on top of him. Y/N realized her mistake. 

"That's, that's not what I meant! I'm so sorry! I meant, I don't like you in the same way, or... errr... I don't know how I feel about you..." she answered, fiddling with her fingers nervously as she waited for his statement. 

"Why don't we look at the diary if you don't know how you feel about me? Or how about that photo of you and I?"

"Okay, okay, fine! I like you! It's just... I want to wait until I'm older, like when I'm eighteen or something!" 

"Y/N... you should have said so..."

"Do you feel the same way?" Y/N questioned back. 

Grinning lightly, he leaned into her and pecked on the top of her head. "You have a cute cat by the way."

"O-oh t-t-thanks," she stuttered.

He would never forget the redness of those cheeks that day. 

He took a deep breath, before flipping over the cover, and scanning the words on the book. 

"Dear Diary,"