An Echo of You and I

Fandom: Persona 5

Word count:2497

Rating:T

Summary: When Akira wakes up, all he can see is an expanse of gray desolate world stretching far into the horizon. A pulsing echo tugs at his heart—a single thought sent to his mind: I’ll come back to you. Come hell or high water, he means to keep that promise. And so he rises to feet and follows that guiding light.

Note: This is a piece I wrote for Blood Oath: A Persona 5 Soulmates Zine.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

Let’s make a promise, she said.

It was not unusual for them to make promises—silly promises they sometimes took as jest. But her voice was firm, her fingers tightening around his. Akira looked to his side and saw Ann staring upward, her gaze hard as she beheld the sea of stars spreading as far as the eye could see. In a voice so quiet that the wind could barely pick it up, her pursed lips parted.

“Let’s promise to meet again. However long it takes. However far apart we are. Someday. Somewhere.”

Around the wrists of their linked hands hung matching red bracelets—ones she’d bought from a traveling merchant who’d recently come to town. The sturdiest thread in all the land, he’d said. So that, should they be separated, they would still be connected.

Akira brushed his thumb over her knuckles. Once upon a time, he’d dreamed of putting a ring there. “Come hell or high water, I’ll come back to you, Ann,” he said. “I promise.” And like a seal, he brought her hand to his face and pressed his lips to her fingers. High above, a star streaked across the heavens, leaving a trail of flaming blue in its wake.

***

Before his eyes stretched an expanse of desolate world. Hard cracked earth melded with the bleak, empty sky. Akira dragged one heavy foot in front of the other, his movement sluggish and slow. How long had he been here? How far had he gone? The world had neither sun nor moon, no light or darkness. The passing of time was but a fever dream, one he’d begun to wonder if it ever existed.

At times, a pulsing echo would spread across the land, coming from the ground or the sky or within his very self. His blood would thrum, like the steady rhythm of a beating heart, sending a single thought to his mind: I’ll come back to you, I promise. But his muscles screamed, his weary bones begged for rest. Akira gritted his teeth and forced himself to move.

Just a little longer, he thought, a little farther; home is just beyond that distant crest.

But the crest never grew closer. The notion of home slowly slipped from his mind. And maybe… maybe he was trapped. Punished. Doomed to never leave this obscure plane. And because of what? He couldn’t remember.

Tripping over a non-existent pebble, Akira’s legs gave away and he collapsed onto the ground. His blood pulsed—the traces of a familiar voice whispering, Getup. But his energy was spent. Darkness crept from the edges of his vision. And just as his eyelids began to close in what he welcomed as a deep slumber, light flashed, bright and warm and making his skin tingle like a newborn baby.

Colors exploded into his mind—images, flitting and fluttering like the flapping of wings of birds taking flight. Of different times and different places, different people with different faces. Sometimes so vague he could barely grasp what was happening, other times so vivid it was as though he was experiencing them himself. And there he was, searching—always searching—but never finding.

Where are you? Where are you? I’m here. But where are you?

Somewhere beyond the void of his mind, his bracelet pulsed. The sturdiest of red threads, now tattered and dirty and gray. Its glow had dimmed, its faint pulse a feeble attempt to make him move. “Get up,” it said. “She’s out there. She’s waiting.”

Who was to know? Who was to know if he’d find her at all?

The thought settled. Whatever strength he’d possessed ebbed away. Akira drew a lungful of breath, and as he surrendered himself into the void, the last vestiges of the echo sputtered out.

***

There was a reason the North Star was used in navigation. Its nearly fixed location due north had helped countless travelers and vagabonds find their way when all seemed lost. Such was what Akira told Ann as they lay on a quiet, grassy hill a short walk away from the city. Her eyes sparkled as they followed the direction of his finger, to where a small gleaming light hung high on the star-painted sky.

“I like that star,” she said. “Can it be my star?”

“What do you mean? It’s everyone’s star.”

“Yes, but it’ll always lead you home, right? So, my star.”

Akira couldn’t comprehend that logic, but the way her smile lit up her face made his stomach flip and flop. He would do anything to protect it. So he nodded, then watched her smile grow.

“If you’re ever lost or couldn’t find your way, just look up at the sky and find my star. You’ll find your way home.”

***

It was an odd sensation—the way consciousness returned. One moment, Akira was stuck in limbo as the remnants of his dream faded; the next, he realized he was staring at the backs of his eyelids. Dread crept into his heart—that he was back, and he had been denied his eternal slumber. But a twittering of birds filled his senses, then a crawling heat on his skin and brightness just beyond his sight. When Akira finally opened his eyes, what greeted him froze him into place.

Bright endless blue stretched as far as the eye could see. No sign of the hazy gray sky. Nothing to say of the endless wasteland. Above him, boughs of a great maple tree provided an all-encompassing shade, and beyond them were puffs of silvery clouds drifting past in a breeze that felt cool and ticklish.

Where was he?

Akira pushed himself off the ground, bones creaking and muscles straining. All around him, greens spread in a mixture of plains and rolling hills. Was this another one of those visions? Was he still in another dream? The questions came in quick successions, when suddenly, footsteps approached from behind. He leaped around, hand going to his hip on instinct for a sword that wasn’t there. But the face that stared back at him stopped him short.

“You’re awake.”

Blue eyes twinkled between voluminous golden hair. The face was sharper, the bones more prominent. A foreigner, one might say, and yet he could not deny the familiarity he felt. And her voice… His tears came unbidden; Akira choked on a lump at the back of his throat.

“Ann,” he croaked. Home. He was home.

Ann’s eyes widened, then after a heartbeat, a tiny smile graced her lips—very much like the one he remembered, and yet…

“Ah, yes, you would know me by that name.”

He blinked. What do you mean? He wanted to say, but his throat was too parched. He could only manage broken grunts and groans.

Ann’s features warmed. She turned around and, nodding for him to follow, said, “Come.”

She led him down the hillslope to a lone little cottage in the valley. Up a short flight of stairs and past a single wooden door, he entered a cozy interior with a table and chairs next to a bubbling pot of what appeared to be stew above a fire. Ann—or, the woman appearing like Ann—moved to the cupboards and reached for a bowl.

“Care for stew?” she asked. She didn’t wait for his answer before she ladled a spoonful or two of the steaming gruel into the ceramic bowl.

Akira watched her set it down on the table before placing a matching spoon beside it. Then, she went back to the water pitcher on the counter and poured him a glass. Crystal clear, the water seemed to sparkle even without the sun hitting the glass.

“Drink.”

It was too good, too much. Fate had never been this kind to him.

“Is this a dream?” he asked.

The woman stared at him before directing her gaze to the water. “Almost a thousand years have passed since the last time you spoke. Drink, lest your throat hurt even more.”

A thousand…

“Who are you?”

“I am who you say I am.”

“But…” He swallowed past the dryness. “You said you’re not her.”

“I am her—or, a fragment of her that still lives in your mind.”

Maybe it was the fatigue, or the hunger and dehydration. The woman was not making any sense. A thousand years he’d journeyed with not so much as human contact. This brief interaction had drained him of what energy had prompted him to follow her. She seemed to notice it, because then she pulled a chair and asked him to sit.

A part of him struggled against it, but his feet moved on their own accord, and before he knew it, he’d settled on the wooden chair, the glass of sparkling water in his hand. Drink, the woman said.

Itwas the fatigue. No water had ever looked this appetizing in all his life. It glistened as though diamonds were sprinkled all around it.

Drink, she said, so you can meet her again.

And against his better judgment, he did.

***

The stars were never in their favor; it had taken him long to realize that. Not when they branded his father a traitor and stripped him of his title. Not when they executed him and he and his mother had to flee the city. And when his squire came to him with the gravest of news, Akira’s faith that Fate would someday be kinder to him crumbled away.

“They’re persecuting them, my lord—the Takamaki Family.”

It didn’t take long for him to grab his sword and grab his horse, riding past raging rivers and dark, overgrown forests to where the city he once called home stood at the foot of a mountain. The smoke blasted his senses just as he neared the Takamaki manor, his horse rearing at the sight of the blazing inferno.

Ann!came the gut-wrenching thought screaming in his mind.

Akira leaped off his horse and rushed into the masses. The air reeked of the stench of burning flesh. All around him, servants of the House lay on the ground, coughing and wheezing and moaning their wounds. But none of them were the Lord and Lady of the Takamaki household. None of them were Ann.

“Lord Akira?” a voice called over the clamor. A familiar face peeked from beneath a familiar helmet. One of the guards carrying a limping elderly man emerged from the gate.

“Hiro!” Akira ran toward him, helped him as they set the man down on the ground. “Hiro, what happened?”

“They’ve taken His Lordship, my lord. He’s in custody.”

“On what charges!?”

“The same ones they charged the late Lord Kurusu with.”

It didn’t make any sense. Whatever foul play had happened behind those doors, Akira had thought they had specifically targeted his father. Hence why, when he and his mother fled, they had cut off all ties with their close relations. Except… he had made that promise, and they had still exchanged letters. Had those people found them?

Akira made to bolt into the flames, but Hiro caught his arm.

“Don’t, my lord, lest you want them to find you inside and drop more charges onto His Lordship. Your being here already endangers yourlifeand House Takamaki.”

Akira gritted his teeth. “But Ann—”

Hiro’s grip on his arm tightened, so hard that it grounded Akira and cleared the desperation from his mind. He was not, however, prepared for Hiro’s grim expression.

“The Young Mistress is missing.”

It was like a bomb that robbed him of all reason.

“What…?”How?

No one knew. After Lord Takamaki’s arrest, no matter how futile it was, Ann had been doing everything she could to prove her father’s innocence, even as the situation grew more despondent each day. But one day, she’d come out of her room, looking excited, and said she’d found a lead. She’d left for the town, but never came back.

“We’ve scoured the entire city and surrounding areas, but nothing.” Hiro pursed his lips. “Not even a body.”

Akira curled his hands, nails digging deep into his skin to keep him sane.

“So, please, my lord, find her.”

If this had started from their letters… If he had caused this tragedy…

No, he would not let himself think that. Ann was out there, alone and cold in the wilderness, with no knowledge of navigation safe for the North Star he’d told her when they were children.

Come hell or high water, he’d find her. He’d promised.

***

Akira gasped, tears spilling from his eyes as he gazed at the murky haze of his desolate sky. The vision had dissipated, but the scorching heat was still fresh in his mind, the smoke suffocating his lungs. And Hiro’s grip…

Find her.

“Have you remembered?”

Her voice. How much he’d missed her voice.

A sob escaped him; Akira shuddered as he took a breath. “Is this my punishment?” he asked. “Because I failed her?” High and low, for miles across, he’d searched for her. Into the deepest oceans, over the highest mountain. But nothing. Not even a body or a trace of blood. As though she’d disappeared. As though she’d never existed. The stars had never been in their favor.

“Of course not,” came the voice’s reply. “It wasn’t your fault. It never was. You were only caught in life’s events. And maybe Fate had not dealt you the best odds, but you were so fixated on your guilt, you’d let yourself believe that is what Fate decreed. But nothing is farther from the truth than that. The stars have always been in your favor, Akira. You need only know where to look.”

“What do you mean?”

A single pulse echoed from his wrist. Akira peered at his bracelet, red and glimmering in faint light.

“I am the bond which binds you. As long as I am here, know that you are still connected. Look, the clouds part.”

He didn’t believe it, yet he found himself raising his gaze nonetheless. And there, indeed, the haze dispersed, and beyond stretched the blanket of blue and black. A single star shone, twinkling in the darkness.

If you’re ever lost, just look up at the sky and find my star.

Could he dare to hope? After an eternity of this desolate place, walking countless lifetimes without finding her, could he hold out and hope once more?

The star sparkled in the distance, and.in his mind, he could see her face light up with that brilliant beam. Akira! she’d call him. His bracelet pulsed, sending strength he had thought long lost to him. A hand, warm and gentle, enveloped his.

“Get up.”

For the first time, Akira felt a smile breaking through his lips. Slow, but sure. He pushed himself off the ground, fighting against the fatigue weighing down his bones. The star glinted in the distance, promising him that this time, he would find his home.

“It might have taken me a thousand years, but come hell or high water, I’ll come back to you,” he whispered to himself. “I promise you, Ann.”

~ END ~

A Flower Just For You

Fandom: Persona 5

Word Count:2988

Rating:G

Summary: Ann has been receiving flowers in her shoe locker for the past few weeks and she couldn’t help but hope that they’re from Ren.

Note: This is a piece I wrote for @thezinearcana, focusing on love confessions and flower languages.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

Ann froze at the sight of a single white flower in her shoe locker that afternoon. This was the third time she had received it, and like its predecessors, it had neither name nor note attached to it.

A pair of familiar voices rose above the hum of conversation at the school’s entrance hall. They sounded close—too close—and before she could think, Ann slammed her locker shut so hard the people around her jumped in surprise. She hoped they hadn’t noticed. But as her heart thundered in her chest, Ann noticed they’d gone quiet.

The silence was deafening.

“What’s wrong, Ann?” Ryuji asked.

“Nothing—” Ann half-turned, one hand still on her locker. But her voice sounded unnaturally high, and she barely stopped herself from grimacing.

Ryuji broke into a grin. “You’re hiding something,” he said, stalking towards her with hands in his pockets, his grin grew wide at her obvious discomfort. “A love letter?”

A joke. It was a joke. But the thought hit too close that Ann was caught between a stutter and a scoff. She willed her face not to go red even as her pulse picked up its speed. “Are you stupid?”

“Then what’s—”

“Ryuji,” Ren called from the other end of the locker, where he was changing his indoor shoes for his outdoor ones. “Ogikubo.”

A single word. That was all it took to make Ryuji huff and shuffle toward his own locker. “Aren’t you curious?” she heard him say. Ren only shrugged.

Her heart still drummed in her ears when Ren closed his locker and turned around. Ann didn’t realize she was staring until their eyes met. He offered her a smile that pulled at her heartstrings and Ann hoped her face didn’t betray her emotions.

“See you tomorrow,” he said with a wave of his hand before nudging Ryuji on the shoulder and nodded toward the doorway. Ryuji looked back only to give her a small nod of farewell, then joined his friend who had gone out ahead of him.

***

“Maybe it really is from Ren,” Shiho said on the phone later that night. Her friend was the only one who knew about the flowers.

Ann scoffed, turning to her side on her bed. “Haven’t we ruled him out of the potential suspects?”

“Don’t call them suspects,” Shiho said, laughing.

Ann shrugged. “They could be a mistake. Or even a prank.” She could imagine it—Ryuji coming up with such an elaborate joke. Though maybe he wouldn’t have thought of using flowers?

“Then why do you keep bringing them home?”

On instinct, Ann looked up at her desk, where three white flowers stood in a glass vase a little to the corner by the window, where they would get a lot of sunlight in the day. The corners of her lips quirked up. Dark green leaves beneath layers of voluminous white petals. Like a rose, but not exactly a rose. Beautiful.

Whydid she bring them home? Because she felt sorry? With no name and no note, Ann couldn’t know for sure they were for her. She couldn’t return them nor could she give them to their true recipients.

“Anyway,” she went on, “It couldn’t be Ren. He wasn’t even interested in it.”

Shiho’s voice seemed to be caught between a sigh and a laugh. “If he’s not the least bit interested, that can mean two things: either he’s not interested in you, or he’s the one who sent it to you.”

“Or he’s just being respectful.”

Shiho sighed. “Ann—” she began, but whatever she was going to say was cut short, because Ann could hear a distant voice calling for her friend and Shiho answered it with a, “Be right there, Mom!” She had to leave. “Don’t think too much about it, Ann,” she said.

The call ended. Ann stared at the blank screen for several silent moments before letting the phone fall onto her bed. A soft sigh escaped her lips. Maybe Shiho was right. It’s not that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind but admitting it could mean her loss. They had only known each other for several months, but they were friends and they were comrades. She knew for sure Ren had never seen her like that.

As though summoned by her thoughts, her phone beeped. She looked to see a text notification from Ren and paused, staring at the name for a few more moments before the realization finally hit her and she sat up straight, her heartbeat skyrocketing.

‘You owe me one.’

Ann stared at the message, then carefully typed, ‘What do you mean?’

His reply came not even a minute later. ‘The love letter.’

Her heart constricted. It was one thing when Ryuji said it, but when those words came from Ren—

‘It’s not a love letter!’

‘Then what is it?’

It’s…

Ann paused, then deleted the word. What could she say? That they were flowers? That was the same as admitting the love letter.

‘What,’she paused, then braced herself as she added, ‘Are you jealous?’

‘Pfft! Jealous? Me?’

The reply didn’t come as quick as before, but still, her heart stung. See, she wanted to tell Shiho. It couldn’t be from Ren. Ann wanted to laugh at herself for even thinking otherwise.

However, just as Ann was typing her reply, another message came. ‘Do you want me to be?’

Ann’s fingers jerked to a stop. She waited a moment, then another, but Ren didn’t say anything else, and neither did she.

Ann didn’t know what to say. Her brain had stopped working at all the implications his question could have and it made her heart race. She could just picture it—him lying on his bed in the cluttered attic that was his room, holding his phone up above his head, waiting for her reply.

She almost told herself to throw the phone and forget the conversation ever existed. She almost convinced herself that he was joking, that she was thinking too much and she should hurry and say something before he thought she was taking things too seriously and he’d feel bad and she’d be embarrassed and—

Her phone beeped again. Ann looked at the screen. A new message had appeared. ‘Sorry, that was a joke.’

That was a joke. She should have known. But her jaws were tense, and her fingers clutched her phone so tight her knuckles went white. Ann drew a breath and loosened her muscles, gulping air past the lump in her throat.

It was a joke.

But why did her heart clench so painfully?

***

The idea came to her in the middle of the night. If she didn’t know who it’s from, Ann could just catch the culprit in the act. She set out to stake out her locker the next day. She’d hide behind the wall around the corner, with bread on one hand and her phone on the other, scrolling through it while occasionally glancing up to spot if anyone had gotten near her shoe locker at all.

No one appeared during lunch break. She decided she could extend her mission to the hours after school, but even then, no one went anywhere near her locker or lingered long enough to have slipped something inside. They couldn’t have put the flower inside in the early mornings, could they? Ann would have found the flowers when she came to school. But all this while, she had only found them after school was over.

“You’re here early,” Ren said one morning before class started. Outside, clouds that had gathered since early morning had broken and rain was drizzling. With her head on her table, the hum of conversation in the background, complete with a chill in the air and the fact that she had woken up an hour earlier, had lulled her into sleep, woken up only by the sound of Ren’s voice and the scrap of chair against tile.

Ann gave a noncommittal grunt as she sat up straight and stifled a yawn.

“Didn’t get enough sleep?”

She didn’t. She couldn’t get her mind off the flowers that she only fell asleep after midnight. Shiho had said Ann was being too obsessed. “Doesn’t it make your heart flutter, though?” her friend had asked last night.

It did. Her heart fluttered every time she saw them, thinking that someone out there thought of her enough to give her flowers. No one had done that before. Yet that’s exactly why she hated it.

“What happened with the love letter?” Ren suddenly asked.

Her eyes ablaze, Ann whipped her head around and hissed, “It’s not a love letter!”

“Sorry.” Ren raised his hands and backed away, as far as the back of his seat allowed him. “Just that you’ve been hanging around your locker a lot recently—” He paused, his gray eyes narrowing. “Don’t tell me—did you stake out your locker this morning?”

Ann pursed her lips and looked away. She heard a quiet snort and glared up at him. “Sorry,” Ren muttered, averting his gaze, finding purchase at something on his lap.

Ann stared at him for a couple moments before leaning her back against the window.

“It’s not a love letter,” she began, her voice soft. Gaze locked on the cuticles of her nails, she fisted her hands and braced herself. “It’s a flower. That time you saw me was the third.”

She waited for the snort, or the laughter, or any sort of teasing remark or jibe. But none of them came. Only silence. And silence was worse, because it spoke more volume than if he had pestered her like Ryuji.

Ann sneaked a glance from the corner of her eyes and found a perfectly schooled poker face. She scowled. “Forget it—”

“But isn’t that good?” Ren asked just as she turned around to face forward again. Ann’s fingers twitched. That confirmed it, then: Ren wasn’t interested in her at all. The flowers were definitely not from him.

She grabbed her books from her bag. Class would start soon.

“I guess it’s not.” She felt his eyes on the back of her head, but Ann didn’t feel like meeting them.

“You’re not happy with them?” There was a quietness to his voice that made her pause, that made her think twice again and again that maybe she was wrong and Shiho was right, no matter how many times Ann was proven right.

Ann sighed. No more.

“I am,” she quietly said.

“Then…?”

Ann let the question hang. The bell rang not a moment later and everyone took their seats. All throughout class, Ann would feel his eyes on her, a lingering glance when her name was called, or a look when she stood up to get something for lunch. He never said anything. She never gave him the chance to.

***

After school, the dark clouds plaguing the day finally parted. Ann didn’t feel like scouting her locker anymore, so she headed home, without much thought of it. Maybe Shiho was right. She should just be happy for receiving the flowers. But if they weren’t from Ren, Ann saw no point in getting happy over it anymore.

Light glistened on the trees and the puddles on the pavement. On her way to the subway, she noticed a little store just off to the side, with potted flowers and plants at the front. Ann stopped in front of it. The lingering scent of rain made the flowers smell stronger and sweeter, and before she knew it, her feet had already led her past the boxes and through the door at the center.

A bell jingled overhead. A woman in a blue shirt looked up from the cash register counter with a smile. “Can I help you?” the florist asked.

Ann looked around. More flowers lined the walls in pots or vases or stacked on shelves—roses, lilies, and hydrangeas to name a few. The florist came over to her just as Ann’s eyes fell on a vase of white flowers—the same ones she now kept in her room.

“What are those?” she asked.

The florist followed her line of sight and a bright smile spread across her face. “Gardenias,” she said. “Beautiful, aren’t they?” She plucked a few and held them out to Ann. “They’re lovely and elegant, perfect to give someone you love.”

Someone you love.

Ann smelled the flowers. A sweet fragrance filled her nose. Yes, these were the same ones. Gardenias.

“Did you know?” the florist went on. “These flowers also mean secret love.” That took her off guard. The florist met her surprised look with a knowing smile. “Long ago, when people used flowers to convey messages, they would often give gardenias whenever they wanted to express their love but still remain anonymous. Romantic, isn’t it?”

It was. And it was too similar with her own situation that it rendered Ann speechless.

“It’s been gaining popularity, too,” the florist added. No wonder, if she had told that story to every customer who came here.

Then again, maybe Ann shouldn’t have been surprised. Whoever had given her those flowers had probably fallen into the florist’s marketing ploy. She felt sorry for the guy. Not only did she have to turn him down, he would have spent his money in vain.

The store bell jingled again, and the florist looked up. “Ah! Amamiya-kun!”

Ann froze as the florist left her side. “Another gardenia?” she asked her new customer. “Or are you finally getting her a bouquet?”

The laughter that followed was indeed Ren’s. Ann couldn’t bring herself to turn around. All sorts of thoughts occupied her mind, trying to figure out what brought Ren to a small florist like this. But then he said, “Another gardenia, please,” and Ann stopped thinking.

The florist chuckled. “Send her some bouquet some time. She’d love it.” A shuffle of feet—the florist headed towards her, where the gardenias were.

A soft laugh. “Yeah, well…” Ren’s voice trailed off. Ann felt the moment his eyes found her. She could almost hear his intake of breath, caught on a secret she shouldn’t know. The silence seemed to stretch for a lifetime, and when he finally spoke her name, his voice quiet and hesitant, it was as though a spell was lifted.

She really shouldn’t have come here.

Placing the flowers on the nearest surface she could find, Ann kept her head down as she quickly made her way out, thanking the confused florist on her way. She ducked past Ren without looking up, then, once she was outside, sprinted as fast as she could to wherever her feet carried her.

Her face burned. Her heart raced. Blood pumped in her veins as she pushed herself farther and farther away from the flower shop at the side of the road.

“Ann!” came the dreaded voice, strained and out of breath. Ren pulled her to a stop, hand gripping her arm. “Ann, wait, let me explain—”

A glimpse of a scene, in middle school. A boy told her he liked her due to a dare between friends.

“Was it a joke?”

“What?”

She didn’t care what the flowers meant anymore. She only wished they were genuine, and not an effort to mess with her feelings. Because she liked him. She liked Ren.

“Was it a joke to you?”

Ann waited for an answer, but it never came. Maybe she was right. Maybe it wasa joke. Who was she kidding? There was no way Ren would—

“Did you think it was a joke?”

She had expected him to scoff, and to smirk, to let go of her arm and said sorry, my friends made me to.But his voice was devoid of any emotions, and it struck her harder than any jeer he could have thrown at her.

His grip around her arm tightened for a fraction of a second, before he let her go, and sighed. Ann finally looked up, and the look on Ren’s face was enough to break her heart.

“I didn’t want you to know,” he began to say. “I didn’t think you needed to. You looked so happy when you first got it, I thought it was okay if I stayed anonymous.” He paused, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head as he looked away, eyes finding purchase on a tree or a passing cloud.

Ann let his words sink in, feeling the knots slowly unravel in her mind. The tinge of red on his ears and his refusal to meet her eyes spoke loudly enough. Ren was being true.

Ann swallowed past a lump in her throat. “Then, if it’s not a joke, what is it?”

A self-deprecating laugh, a small awkward smile. “Do you really have to ask?”

She didn’t, apparently. Even without the words, Ren’s feelings were loud and clear. From the way he’d smile at her in such a soft and gentle way, to the way he’d look at her as though she was the only girl in the world. He had listened to her and given her his full attention. It would be a lie if Ann hadn’t felt some sort of deeper connection in her time knowing him.

And yet, it was for that precise reason that it had hurt her all the more when she thought he might have been playing with her feelings.

“I’m sorry if they were a burden,” he quietly said. “I didn’t mean to.”

And Ann believed him. Because if there was one thing she knew about Ren was that Ren would never do anything to upset his friends.

“Don’t you know why they made me happy?” she asked. He finally looked at her, and her face broke into a small smile. “The only reason I was happy, Ren, was because I hoped they were from you.” The dumbfounded look on his face was the most endearing thing she had ever seen. “I wanted it to be you.”

~ END ~