A. A. A. A. A. B. A. A.

Since I’m used to seeing only one letter on my test papers, the sudden intrusion of a new one is sharply disconcerting. I can’t help staring at it, wondering if maybe I’m seeing things.

“What’s that?” Jason comes out of his study to join me at the dining room and peers over my shoulder. “Midterms?”

I nod.

He straightens with a smile. “Good job, hon.”

I smile back, but inside I’m thinking he’s exactly right. I did a good job – not a great one. I need all As if I want the last slot at the student exchange program the state’s educational department is offering. Which reminds me---

The application papers are a little crumpled when I finally pull them out of my bag, and my chest squeezes in anxiety. I hear Japanese locals can be very meticulous when it comes to reviewing submissions. What if they turn me down because my papers have ugly little creases here and there?

Jumping to my feet, I decide not to leave anything to chance.

Kelly catches me on my way to the laundry and raises a brow. “This is new.”

“Very funny, Mom.” But I don’t really blame her for being surprised. The last time I tried washing my own clothes – and that was only because I didn’t have time to get to the cleaners and get my cosplay kimono dry-cleaned in time for an anime convention – it had ended very badly, with dark streaks staining the floral patterns of my costume because I had accidentally tossed a black dress in the washer with it.

“I’m going to iron these.” I show her my application papers.

“Oh. What you’re looking for isn’t in the laundry room. I stored the iron in the tool closet at the back of the house.”

“Got it. Thanks, Mom.” I’m about to turn when she calls my name. “What is it?”

“How are things with Yuki?” Her voice is quiet and concerned.

“He’s…coping.” I bite my lip. “He tells me things will work out, but…”

Kelly ruffles my head. “You’re worried about him.”

“I never thought his mom could do something so horrible,” I confess shakily. “I get it that she’s no longer happy with Yuki’s dad, but she could’ve just left him.” It would still have broken Akito-san’s heart, but at least it wouldn’t have destroyed him completely. Instead, Sascha proved to me how little I understand the extent in which a person can be evil. She not only ran away with her lover, but she also took all of Akito Himura’s money and sold company secrets that left the board no choice but to fire him.

“How could she have done that, Mom? And what about Yuki? She’s his son, but every time I see them together, all she does is hurt him. Can a mother really care so little for her own child?”

“Oh, hon.” My mom pulls me into her arms. “The fact that you’re asking just shows me how young you are.” Pulling away, she tells me quietly, “Love is always a choice. Everything about it is a choice. Who you love, how much or how little you love, until when – it’s all a choice. Sascha made her choice, a devastatingly cruel one – but she’s not the first woman to do it, and she won’t be the last.”

“I hope Hell chooses to love her then,” I mutter.

“KC!”

I grimace. “Sorry, Mom. But I’m just so angry…and I feel so helpless.” I only have to close my eyes and

Kelly gives my hand a squeeze. “Don’t be. You made a choice, too. You chose to love him and stand by him, and that means a lot to Yuki.”

I know that, but it’s not enough.

It’s not enough.

And as the days pass, the words keep pounding my brain.

It’s not enough.

Timetables start to take over my life, and I find myself counting the minutes I spend on everything I do. I need to find a way to cut my studying time in half and still score an A. I need to find a way to squeeze in another part-time job. I need to…

I need to…

I need to…

There are so many things I need to do, but I just can’t. I’m only eighteen, and no matter how much I want to help Yuki, what’s there for me to do? I can’t help his dad pay off their debts. I can’t stop them from selling their house, can’t stop them from moving back to Japan.

I wish Yuki could tell me what I can do to help, but every time I ask him. he only smiles and kisses me. Don’t worry about me. It’s all he keeps saying, like it’s the only thing he can say without breaking my heart and telling me that there’s nothing I can do.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing

And suddenly I can’t breathe.

The world starts to spin as I fall.

I CAN’T BREATHE.

Dimly, I hear Kelly crying out, but it’s a distant sound, drowned out by the way my lungs are desperately heaving for air. I clutch my throat. I have the most ridiculous urge to puncture a hole in it---

I CAN’T BREATHE.

My dad carries me to the car. Kelly’s sobbing as she pleads for me to breathe.

Oh, Mom. I want to.

But I don’t know what to breathe for anymore when nothing I do is making a difference.

* * *

Bookstores are a strange, wonderful sight in Tokyo. Since space is extremely limited in this city, a number of bookstores tend to expand vertically, and that’s why you end up with literary skyscrapers rather than bookshops sprawled several blocks wide. Kinokuniya’s branch in South Shinjuku has seven while Junkudo in Ikebukuro and Akihabara’s Shosen Tower have ten each. The one I’m in right now – Book Haven – isn’t as popular and is fairly new. But it does follow the same structure, with each floor dedicated to a particular type of merchandise or genre, and so I don’t have much trouble finding my target.

2nd Floor is the Reference Section, and I immediately start searching for the shelves where the newest I.T. books are. He’s always where the super techie books are, and even though several years have passed since we last visited a bookstore together, my instincts prove me right.

Yuki.

I catch a glimpse of him through the narrow gap of space between the books and its shelves. Just a brief, partial glimpse, but it’s still enough to have my heart ba-thumping like it used to.

He’s in jeans again, but this time matched with a thin checked jacket worn over a white shirt. He has a book in his hands, and his brows are slightly pleated as he reads whatever it is he’s reading. He turns around to walk out of the aisle, and I hurriedly move in parallel, not wanting to lose sight of him.

I hide behind one of the shelves when he pays at the cashier, and I count until five before I deem it safe to start following him again. I check the elevator first, but the display tells me that it’s still on standby. I quickly bend over the rails to check the escalator, but I don’t see him either.

Where could he possibly be?

I whirl around---

Yuki is standing right in front of me, and he does not look happy.

Oh, shite.

It’s been thirty-seven days since I last got this close to him. Not that I’ve been consciously counting. My point is that it’s been a really long time, and every second of it hadn’t been wasted. Because I had done what he asked.

I got out of his life. I also thought things through. And that’s why I’m here.

“Hisashiburi.” My voice comes out a croak.

Yuki’s beautiful face remains unsmiling. “Why are you following me?”

I start to answer, but then I notice the bookstore clerk behind me giving me a suspicious look. It’s obvious he heard what Yuki said just as it’s obvious he thinks I’m stalking Yuki. Turning red, I stammer to the clerk, “Sutōka ja nai.” I’m not a stalker. And honestly, I know Yuki’s the gorgeous one between us, but do I really look that desperate?

The bookstore clerk tells Yuki in Japanese, “If you’re having problems, please do not hesitate to let any of the staff know.”

Okaaaay. I guess that answers my question.

Yuki’s face is stony, but I’m not fooled.

“It’s not funny,” I grumble.

“I’m not laughing.”

“You so are, inside.”

He only shrugs, but the way his blue eyes is gleaming –

Oh, Yuki.

Is it too sappy if I say that the look in his eyes makes me want to cry buckets? I know it sounds mortifyingly cheesy, but you have to understand. That little light in his baby blues means the world to me. It used to be the way he looked at me all the time, and then we broke up, and I honestly thought I’d never see it again.

And yet here we are.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “Can we talk? Just talk,” I stress hastily, in case he thinks it’s some kind of emotional trap. When he still doesn’t speak, I take a deep breath. “Please?” It’s another gamble. I’ve never been the betting type, but I guess that’s just how love is. It makes you take all sorts of risks---

Yuki breathes hard.

Because if it pays off, the reward is always more than you can ever imagine---

“Fine.”

Like now.

“Thank you.” I’m proud at how casual my voice comes out. It’s the polar opposite with how my heart’s doing all kinds of somersaults inside of me, just like it used to, when we were going out. Yuki is stiff as he falls into step beside me, and when we get on the escalator he stays a good three feet away from me.

Oh, Yuki.

If he thinks the deliberate distance he’s placing between us would hurt me, he’s so, so wrong. It only confirms all my hopes – even the ones I can’t make myself speak out loud because they seem too good to be true.

“How did you know where to find me?”

I bite my lip. “Well…” I was hoping he wouldn't ask this, but I should’ve known better. Giving him a sheepish smile, I confess, “I asked Momo and she made Seiji ask you.” I check his expression worriedly. “Are you mad? If you are, please be mad with me and not Seiji---”

“I probably should be,” Yuki murmurs, “but I’m not. I know how persuasive Momo can be.”

I flash him a relieved smile. “Thank you.”

He steps back to let me get on the escalator first, and I feel his gaze on me as the stairs descend to the lower floor. It’s making me nervous for all kinds of reasons, but even so I wouldn’t trade it for the world. When we get off, I turn to face him but almost bump into his chest.

The contact is all too brief, but it’s enough to have my face burn as I rear back.

Yuki frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Umm, yes, I’m fine, sorry.” But it’s not exactly the truth. I am fine, but the feel of his chest has also sent my heart racing faster than ever now. I point to the café across the street. “How about we talk there?”

Yuki gives me a clipped nod. I’m thinking he remembered that he’s not supposed to be talking too much with me. He probably even thinks he’s successfully pushing me away with it, but he’s wrong. He’s so, so wrong, and I can barely contain my sheer happiness as we cross the street. He’s acting exactly the way I---

Yuki suddenly stops before we reach the café, and I stumble to a halt next to him.

“What is it?” I ask, startled.

“You skipped.” His voice is grim.

“I d-did not.” But it’s a lie. Now that he’s pointed it out, I realize that it’s true, and that my excitement has gotten so out of hand I had started skipping like a kid heading home after the last day of school.

Control, KC. And stick to the plan.

Pretending I don’t notice the grim expression on his face, I say, “We’re already here. Can’t we hash it out inside?”

Yuki doesn’t answer right away.

“Please?”

His gaze locks with mine.

Come on, Yuki. You know you want to do this. You know you do---

There’s another long moment, and then Yuki slowly nods.

---because you love me.

“T-Thank you.” This time around, I can’t just keep everything bottled up inside me and my voice becomes gruff with emotion. In the corner of my eye, I see him starting to frown again, and I quickly duck my head, not wanting him to see my face. One look at it and he’d know just how happy I am---

And that won’t do, or at least not just yet.

Looking around, I realize that the place is almost full, leaving us with two choices: the bar stools facing the windows, and the couch in the corner that could work as a tight squeeze for two.

My eyes light up. “Let’s sit---”

But Yuki’s already strolled towards the bar stools.

Blast it.

It’s disappointing, but I tell myself not to be greedy and take things one at a time.

Stick to the plan, you must. Too important to wing, this is.

I know my inner Yoda is right, but oh – is the fact that I just miss him so, so much a valid excuse? Every time I look at him, I have this urge to throw my arms around him.

Yuki raises a brow when I finally take my seat next to him. “What took you so long? Having second thoughts about talking?”

You wish.

Yuki blinks. “Excuse me?”

Oh, shite. Did I say that out loud?

“I said I, umm, took a piss.”

“A…piss?”

“Anyway.” I hurriedly change the subject. “What would you like to order? Since I invited you, it should be my treat---”

Yuki’s blue eyes are boring through me.

“Or not?” I do my best to sound like I’m second guessing myself, but actually he’s still doing the exact thing I predicted. It really is just like before. Yuki had always insisted on being the one to pay, and even after Sascha stealing the family fortune, he had made sure things wouldn’t change. He had started working after school instead, still wanting to be the one to take care of things.

“I’ll order for us,” Yuki says.

I nod obediently. “Okay.”

“So?” His tone is impatient. “What do you want?”

I blink at him. “You really don’t know?”

There’s a second of silence, and then he whips away without a word and stalks to the counter to line up. With his back to me, I’m able to feast my eyes on him. It’s what’s gotten me into trouble the first day we spoke, actually. I used to check his bum out all the time, and eventually it led to Yuki catching me fantasizing about him.

I look around, and I’m not surprised to see that most of the women inside the café are doing the same. I feel you, ladies, but that boy is mine.

When it’s Yuki’s turn at the counter, I strain my ears, doing my best to hear him over the faint jazz music playing in the background.

One green tea, tall. That’s for him.

One key lime cream and yogurt frappe. That’s for – wait. What? Is that really for me?

Yuki returns to our seats with our drinks in tow and I stare stonily when he sets my drink down in front of me. It’s a drink exclusive to Japan, and it’s all the things I hate: the sourness of lime, the blandness of yogurt, and the icy coldness of frappes.

I raise my gaze to his, saying darkly, “That’s not what I always ordered.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It’s exclusive to Japan,” I can’t help snarling.

“I see.”

“Do you really not remember what I’ve always ordered?” Vanilla latte, skinny, grande. Had he really forgotten?

“I guess.” His voice is bland.

My heart starts to shrivel, but I tell myself it’s too early to throw in the towel. So he’s forgotten a few little things. It doesn’t mean he stopped caring. It only means he’s on the road to having Alzheimer’s at an early age, but other than---

My gaze narrows when I notice the gleam in his eyes.

That can only mean one thing---

“You did it deliberately, didn’t you?” I say suspiciously. “You ordered something I’m liable to hate!”

Yuki blinks innocently. “I’d never do anything childish.”

“Ha!” But I’m not really angry because this still proves my point. He still remembers things about me, never mind if it’s only things that I dislike, and it’s still enough to make me rapidly blink my eyes when I feel them start to sing. You can cry later, KC, but not now. There’s still work to do, and I won’t be able to accomplish it if Yuki catches me bawling like a kid.

We reach for our drinks almost at the same time, and our actions mirror each other as we turn to face the windows before we start sipping on our drinks. The synchrony of our movements is a little eerie, even for me, and when I look at Yuki, his expression mirrors my disconcertment.

“C-Creepy, right?” I force out a laugh.

Yuki shrugs.

Riiiight. I keep forgetting that this Yuki doesn’t speak as much as the old one does. It’s still one of the few things that puzzle me, actually. “So…umm…” I clear my throat. “I’m just curious, and you totally don’t have to answer me or anything but---”

He cocks his head to the side when my voice trails off. “What is it?” It’s such a simple gesture, but it’s enough to make me lose my train of thought. Nostalgia hits me out of the blue---

Oh, Yuki.

I remember the day he first drove me home. He had just found out about my little secret, and we were talking about it, and he had looked at me the very same way he was looking at me now, his head cocked to the side.

Did you really fantasize about those other guys, too?

My heart slams hard against my chest at the memory.

But then I remember the other things we talked about that same day, and this time a giggle escapes me.

“Care to share the joke?” His tone is faintly exasperated, but there’s something else. Something that suspiciously sounds like affection, and oh, oh, oh, I just want to hug him so bad for it.

Oh, Yuki.

It takes everything in me not to throw myself at him. Patience, KC. Patience, and stick to the blasted plan!

“I just remembered something.” I clasp my hands primly on my lap, but all it’s really for is to make sure I don’t accidentally give in to my impulses and grab his beautiful face and smother it with kisses. “You remember the first time you drove me home and I tried to make you drink coffee?”

“Ah.”

“Do you still hate coffee?”

“There is nothing about it to like.”

Okay, that’s too much, and I start laughing. “Spoken just like a real man.” I pause. “Not!” Something else about that day comes back to me – a sixteen-year-old Yuki eyeing his coffee cup in disgust – and I can’t help laughing again.

Yuki’s lip curls. “It is not that funny.”

“It is,” I assure him, still chortling. “It so definitely is.”

He doesn’t say anything, but when he raises his cup for another sip, I see it. His lips…his beautiful lips…are doing its best to fight off a smile, and oh, it’s the most divinely beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in a long, long time.

A Danish philosopher once said that life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards. I stumbled across the quote a few weeks ago in between gobbling down strawberry mochi and sobbing over the happy-ever-after that my otome game heroine won for herself. But don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I wasn’t happy for my virtual twin, or that I was envious about it. It’s only that those words made me realize---

Everyone was right.

I didn’t believe Kelly when she told me there were things that were out of my control, didn’t believe her when she told me that I could love a person without loving myself less. And Yuki…when Yuki told me that he didn’t want my love, that he wouldn't want my love again, I hadn’t wanted to believe him either. But now I know he was right to feel that way.

They were all right.

Maybe it was because I was too young. Maybe it was because all the things that happened were too much. Maybe it was even destined, so I could be stronger when it was my mom who needed me. Maybe it’s none of those, maybe it’s all of those and more but now that I’m older and just a little wiser –

I realize that the reasons are immaterial.

What matters is that I now know how to love him without hurting either of us.

“So...” Yuki’s stiff voice cuts through my thoughts. “That was what you wanted to ask?”

“No, not that.” My voice becomes cautious. “And it’s really not my business---”

“If that’s the case, don’t ask it then.”

I make a face. “That’s actually it.”

Yuki appears bemused. “I beg your pardon?”

“Why have you changed so much?” I blurt out. “You were our high school’s angel. That’s what they literally called you, remember? I mean, I know you were faking it, but no one else did, and you were very careful…”

When my voice trails off, Yuki says smoothly, “I’m certain you can guess why.”

Oh.

Another memory comes to me, but this time it’s not as pleasant. It’s Yuki, telling me how he once caught his mother cheating on his dad, and how – even after telling Akito-san what he saw – the latter had believed in his wife’s lies instead. Sascha had said that Yuki was making up stories because he was jealous of his own mother, and Akito had fallen for it, hook, line, and bloody sinker.

Yuki had never trusted anyone after that, had turned himself into a model son just so Sascha would never find any of his weaknesses.

But now that Sascha’s gone, her true colors exposed---

“Was Akito-san shocked by your transformation?” I ask tentatively.

“I can’t say.” Yuki’s tone is bland. “I’m not certain he’s noticed any changes. He’s been very busy lately.” He pauses. “You know about it?”

I nod. “My friend Vivi told me about you---” I stop then correct myself. “Actually, she was telling me about this “resident bad boy” and how his father’s become a billionaire overnight, and at that time I didn’t know she was talking about you.” I laugh nervously. “What a coincidence, right?”

Yuki responds by taking another sip of his tea.

Riiiiight. I should remember that this is the new and real Yuki now. No cocky one-liners, no last words, no---

“Is that all you wanted to talk to me then?” Yuki’s tone is extremely polite, and because I know him, I recognize the signs. It’s his way of telling me I’m wasting his time, and if I don’t mind, he’d like to go now, thank you very much.

I lift my chin. Sorry, Yuki, but that’s not part of the plan.

His blue eyes narrow when I smile at him widely, saying, “Actually, it’s not.” My hands start to sweat and I quickly hide them under the bar. “The reason I wanted to talk to you is…” I take a deep breath. Here we go.

I jump off the bar and give him a deep bow. “Mōshiwake arimasen deshita.” I am deeply sorry. When I straighten, the first thing I see is Yuki’s stunned expression, and I manage a smile despite the way my lips are trembling. “Because you were right. I loved you to the point of madness, and while that sounds good on paper…it was downright ugly in real life. So…” My voice falters, and I drag air into my lungs.

Who knew those words would make me feel like I’ve run for miles?

Yuki is still staring at me. “What exactly are you saying?”

Oh. I’ve forgotten how good he is at reading between the lines.

“Well…” Do I go around in circles or do I give it to him straight?

His phone suddenly vibrates against the counter, and I can’t help it. My gaze swerves to it the same time his does, and we both see the photo of a girl flash on the screen.

It’s the same girl he threatened to shag in front of me thirty-seven days ago.

Ah.

That makes things a lot easier.

Straight it is then.

As Yuki starts to answer the call, I say baldly, “First, I’d like us to be friends---”

His eyes widen.

“And after that, I’d like to become your girlfriend again---”

A shrieking sound comes out from the phone, but Yuki and I both ignore it.

“And if I have to seduce you to make that happen, well, so be it.”

Yuki’s phone slips out of his fingers.

Take that, Girl He Won’t Ever Shag Again.