(Day Seven – Evening, Continued)
The room was quiet.
My words hung between us, fragile and trembling, like the last petal clinging to a cherry blossom in the wind.
Sakura didn't move. She didn't speak.
She just stared.
I felt my heart hammering against my ribs, each beat louder than the last.
I was terrified.
What if I had read things wrong? What if all the teasing, the closeness, and the gentle touches had just been her way of comforting a friend?
I couldn't bear the thought of ruining this.
But just as I was about to retreat, Sakura finally moved.
She reached out, her hand warm as it covered mine.
Her grip was soft – trembling, but steady enough to keep me grounded.
"You don't have to look so scared," she whispered, her eyes searching mine.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words caught in my throat.
And then, softly – like she was handling something delicate – she leaned in.
Her forehead brushed against mine, and I felt the warmth of her breath ghosting across my lips.
"I've been waiting for you to say that," she murmured.
I froze, eyes wide. "What?"
Sakura pulled back just enough for me to see the softness in her gaze – the affection that had been there all along, hidden beneath layers of teasing and playfulness.
Her hand lingered against my cheek, thumb tracing small, absentminded circles across my skin.
"Yuki… I've liked you for a long time," she admitted, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "Even before all of this."
Before?
My chest tightened. "But… how? I didn't even—"
Sakura smiled faintly, shaking her head. "You wouldn't have noticed. You were always so caught up in your own world, blending into the background."
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze drifting to the floor for a moment before returning to meet mine.
"I used to see you on campus," she continued. "Before you even knew who I was. You'd sit by the library windows, staring outside like you wanted to disappear."
My heart skipped.
I remembered those days – afternoons spent alone, watching the world from the sidelines, wishing I could somehow be different.
"And then," Sakura continued softly, "when I started working in the lab and saw you there too… I don't know. I thought you were cute."
My face burned. "You thought I was cute back then?"
Sakura grinned. "I've always thought you were cute, Yuki. Even before the formula decided to work its magic."
I lowered my head, heat rushing to my cheeks. I felt like I was going to melt into the couch.
She giggled, leaning closer until her shoulder brushed against mine.
"You think you're the only one with a confession to make?" she teased. "I was just waiting for you to catch up."
I swallowed hard, barely able to process her words.
"But… I've changed," I said quietly, glancing down at my lap. "I'm not… the same anymore. You're not just dealing with the Yuki from before. I'm… I'm becoming someone else."
Sakura's hand slid down to lace with mine, squeezing gently.
"And I like that someone else too," she said firmly. "Boy, girl… none of that matters to me."
I glanced up, meeting her gaze.
She was completely serious.
I could see it in her eyes – the certainty, the acceptance.
"I'm someone who loves people for who they are," she continued, tilting her head with a soft smile. "And I love you, Yuki. Whether you're the quiet boy who sat at the back of the class or the girl who's just starting to figure herself out."
The room felt impossibly warm, and I wasn't sure if it was from Sakura's words or the way she was holding me like I might disappear if she let go.
I bit my lip, trying to blink away the slight sting behind my eyes.
"You're really okay with this?" I whispered.
Sakura nodded. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
I couldn't hold it in anymore.
A quiet laugh bubbled up from my chest – breathless, a little shaky, but full of relief.
"Thank you," I whispered, leaning into her touch.
She didn't let go.
Instead, she pulled me closer, resting her forehead against mine again.
For a moment, we just stayed like that – wrapped in the quiet, the setting sun casting soft shadows around us.
And as her fingers brushed against my cheek, I felt the weight in my chest slowly begin to lift.
I wasn't alone in this.
I never had been.
And maybe – just maybe – that was all I needed to hear.