The morning after their first kiss was… awkward.
But not in the bad way.
It was the kind of awkward that came with half-smiles and blushes that crept in before you could hide them. That nervous, fluttering space between familiarity and something new. A space they had both stepped into, together, without a map.
Sunlight spilled through the curtains, casting soft gold on the wooden floor of the apartment. The scent of brewed coffee mingled with the faint trace of citrus soap, still lingering from Miyako's morning shower. There was quiet comfortable, humming, maybe a little too quiet.
Miyako sat at the edge of the couch, brushing her damp hair with one hand and scrolling through her phone with the other. Her movements were slow, distracted. Every now and then, she paused staring at nothing, lips twitching into a shy smile she quickly smothered.
Haruki stood in the kitchenette, stirring his coffee absentmindedly, watching the steam curl from the cup. His hand trembled just slightly when he lifted it to his lips, eyes flickering toward her and then away as if he'd been caught doing something scandalous.
Neither of them said anything. Not yet.
Maybe they were both afraid to break it to speak it aloud and shatter whatever delicate, blooming thing had taken root between them. Or maybe they just didn't have the words for it yet.
Miyako flopped back onto the couch, her phone resting flat on her stomach.
"Do we need to update our relationship status or something?"
Her voice was casual, teasing even, but there was a nervous lilt beneath it like she was dipping her toe into uncharted waters.
Haruki looked up from the sink, brows raising slightly. "We have a relationship status?"
She shrugged, twirling her hair around one finger. "Well, our classmates still think we're fake-married. Kazuki probably thinks I seduced you with fireworks. And Mina's… trying to pretend she's fine."
His jaw tightened just a little. "I haven't talked to her since…"
"I know," she said gently. "It's okay. She probably just needs space."
A beat.
Then another.
"Do you… regret it?" she asked, her voice smaller this time.
Haruki turned fully to face her. His fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.
"No," he said, firm and simple. No hesitation.
She exhaled long and shaky like she hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath.
"Good," she said. "Because if you did, I was going to pretend it never happened and emotionally blackmail you with takoyaki until you cried."
Haruki blinked. "That's… terrifying."
She grinned, finally. "Welcome to being my boyfriend."
He opened his mouth, clearly about to respond but then paused, caught off guard by the word. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face.
She caught it. Her smile faltered, just a little.
"Wait… am I not allowed to call you that yet?"
"I mean…" He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in a spot on the floor. "We never really said anything official."
"Oh." Miyako's voice dropped a note. Not sad, but quieter. Guarded. "Right. No labels."
The silence between them shifted, stretched taut like a string on the verge of snapping. But neither of them touched it.
Not yet.
School that day was painfully, excruciatingly normal.
No grand public announcement. No slow-motion hallway montage. No whispers. No judgment. No fireworks.
And weirdly enough, that made everything feel more surreal.
Miyako sat with her friends at lunch, her laughter just a little too loud, her eyes glancing toward Haruki's table more often than usual. She fiddled with her chopsticks, drawing invisible patterns on the bento box she barely touched.
Meanwhile, Haruki tried to focus on his notes, but the words blurred together. He found himself writing her name in the margins instead of formulas. He shook his head and erased it, only to start again five minutes later.
Riku, naturally, noticed.
As Haruki rose from the table to toss his trash, Riku followed him, leaning close like he was sharing a top-secret mission.
"You kissed her, didn't you?"
Haruki choked on his drink. "What how"
Riku smirked. "You're glowing."
"I don't glow."
"You do now. Like… a flickering lightbulb that finally figured out it wants to stay on."
Haruki stared at him. "That doesn't make sense."
"It does to me. And more importantly, it makes sense to Miyako. You know she hasn't looked away from you all day, right?"
"She hasn't wait, she has?"
"Dude," Riku said, shaking his head. "You're so far gone, it's kind of beautiful."
Haruki sighed, cheeks warming. "I just… I don't know what we are yet."
Riku clapped him on the back. "Then ask her. Or better yet, tell her. Before someone else does."
That evening, the apartment was quiet again.
Haruki sat on his bed, textbooks open but forgotten. The dim orange of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the walls. His thoughts were a mess spiraling through memories of her smile, the feel of her hand in his, the taste of the kiss they still hadn't talked about.
He didn't hear her footsteps.
Not until she was already standing in the doorway.
Miyako held something in her hand a small, square piece of paper, folded once down the middle. Her hair was slightly messy, strands tucked behind her ear. Her hoodie hung loosely off one shoulder.
"Hey," she said softly.
He looked up. "Hey."
"I, um… I found something in my notebook. Something I wrote before we… before that night."
He watched her cross the room and hand him the paper.
"I wanted to give it to you, but I didn't have the nerve," she said, sitting on the edge of his bed.
He unfolded it slowly, heart thudding in his chest.
I don't know what we are.
But when I'm with you, I don't feel like I have to pretend.
And maybe that's enough for now.
Haruki read it once. Then again. Then looked up at her.
Her eyes were on the floor, not daring to meet his.
"Miyako," he said.
She looked up.
"I think I want to call you my girlfriend," he said. "Not because we have to. Not because it makes anything official. But because… I want to."
Her breath caught. Her lips parted slightly in surprise.
"But only if you call me your boyfriend."
There was a heartbeat of silence.
Then another.
And then her face broke into the biggest grin he'd ever seen.
"Deal," she said, her voice a little breathless.
Relief. Joy. Laughter.
All at once.
She launched forward and hugged him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck. He held her tightly, forehead resting against hers.
And just like that, something shifted.
The silence they'd been afraid of wasn't silence anymore.
It was comfort.
No labels forced on them. No expectations from others. Just… them.
Miyako and Haruki.
No definitions. No blueprints. No need to rush.
Just a boy and a girl choosing each other.
And that finally felt like enough.