#dailykot

 Satowa had expected nothing in return. In that moment, she only remembers seeing red—when Chika bowed his head. She thought a hug was simple enough, something she could explain away later easily—it was a white lie, she was having a sunstroke, whatever works.

 But when forced to confess, Satowa had never fathomed his arms wrapping around her, head softly lying against her shoulder. She had never fathomed a reply—the same as hers, with a wide grin across his face—only the day after. 

 But the progression of events had led to Satowa wanting something more the day after that, like a monkey in an experiment being psychologically wired to demand more candy.

 She sighs, resting her head between her knees. Because nothing came. The next day, the day after the next. Even almost two weeks later, they were perfectly normal around each other. Something had changed in Chika, though. He'd become more... mature. His usually fiery eyes were more relaxed, a laid back light in them that watched her carefully, every hour of everyday. 

 Unsurprisingly, she wasn't the only girl to notice this change. Fifty percent of the school population now saw him, more than ever, as a boy put through horrible circumstances that he never deserved. Some of them cried and bought him lunches and chocolates as an apology for treating him like a criminal. 

 She was happy for him, when he shyly took their bargain. She really was. 

 Until it somehow turned into an 'everyday-is-valentines-day' fiesta and Chika's locker was exploding with gifts round the clock. That was a bit much.

 And Satowa had predicted him to yell at them to stop—for Christ's sake—throwing food his way as if he were a dying fish. The old Chika would do that. 

New Chika, however, simply pursed his lips, chucked the contents of his locker into a bag and offered it to everyone in the club later, insisting they take it home and not eat it here so as to not hurt anyone that the intended recipient wasn't the one taking them.

Satowa never accepts any, feeling a little jaded. “I don’t like sweet things,” is her excuse.

He'd told her he loved her back and for a while, she thought he did. But her confidence began to falter, now that the small smiles usually sent her way were public property. 

Maybe he really did love her as a friend and she misunderstood his kindness.

She buries her head deeper into her knees, groaning in irritation. The sound of jingling keys makes her raise her head in relief. Hiro-senpai you savior—

"What...." He eyes her, confused.

 "Uh...” Oh, great. Of all the people. "Locked my keys in the room." she smiles awkwardly.

 "The other pair?"

 "Hiro-senpai has it. She isn't in."

 She eyes her watch. Quarter past Seven. Judging by the breathless huffing, he was returning from an evening run. He wipes the sweat off his brow in a way Satowa thinks Kudou doesn't know is so scandalous.

 "Have you seen the practice room downstairs?"

 She would have, if her brain wasn't so full of him.

 "Wanna check it out now? Since you have time to kill?"

 "Why?" She hadn't meant to ask that out loud, but now that it was out of her mouth, she was curious.

 He furrows his brows. "Aren't you supposed to ask me where at this point?"

 "No," She reiterates, "I'm more interested in why."

 Instead of answering her directly, he rattles the keys in her face. "I'd booked it an hour ago. Thought I'd ask glasses, but he's out so..."

 Ah, so that’s where Hiro was. Satowa squints, repeating, "So?"

 "So," he ruffles his hair. "Accompany me?"

 She didn’t need to be told twice.

 While Chika busies himself in laying down the Kotos, something he insisted to do for her whenever he was around because 'You weigh half of it and I'd know since I've carried you before.'

 (She'd never understood how he suddenly was completely comfortable saying the weirdest things.) 

 "No, really," She tries, again. "Why?"

 He barely looks over his shoulder to shoot her a sheepish glare, playing with the hem of the Koto cover, and staying rooted to his spot. 

 “In case you decided to come with somebody else.”

 "Somebody else..." She narrows her eyes. "Hiro-senpai?"

 He scratches his neck, mumbling, "That guy's here..."

 "I'm going to need more description than that."

 "The flashy guy," he waves it off, as if he doesn't want to say it. "The one from Ichiei. The one that..." He exhales loudly. "The one that hugged you."

 She frowns, a little offended, "I'm pretty sure I can defend myself with a kick to the groin. I don't need you to protect me."

 "What? No? No!" He defends. "It's not that he'd do anything to you. If anything, I know how much your kicks hurt. I just...” He releases an exhausted sigh. "I don't think you realizes how much attention your—" He scans her frame and averts his gaze, panicked. “you gather."

 "I gather attention?” She looks appalled. "Yes, because I'm the person girls are flocking around like felines high on catnip."

 He quirks an eyebrow. "Does it bother you?"

 She's silent for a second. Then, "No." 

 "Are you sure?"

 "Positive."

 "I hope you know you look pissed."

 "That's just my face."

 His lips twitch into a teasing grin but he ultimately drops the topic. 

 Satowa hmphs as he lays the Koto before her. She places her fingers gingerly over the strings, humming a familiar tune.

 "That's not 'I'."

 "No, it's not, " She replies, lightly thrumming the notes. “It’s a piece I play when I don't feel great."

 "So you are pissed."

 She rolls her eyes.

 “At me?" He hazards a guess. 

 "Yes,” She glares at him, pressing down on the first note to drown both their voices out. "And no."

 When music fills the air, Chika sits before her in comfortable silence, listening to her express whatever it was she wanted to. The piece is a high pitched screech in comparison to Satowa's usual delicate notes, bordering between a sacrificial satanic ceremony organ and a frustrated banshee wail. 

It helps her channel all her grievances in one place, in a matter of minutes. At some point she forgets Chika is in the room but it doesn't matter because he's in every thought she has. 

His voice. His smell. His skin.

Somewhere in between, it transforms her music, into a soft vibrato of a ballroom waltz, like the push and pull of hands and mingling of bodies. She lets the sound calm her nerves. Remind her focus right now should be music and nothing else, like it has always been. One up or down should change nothing between them. 

She was dealing with it for all this time, she could sustain another few years if Satowa put her mind to it. 

"That...”  His voice cuts through her thoughts. "That sounded pained."

She nods.

"Uh... Are you okay?"

There were many answers to this question. She had done a lot of thinking in the past few days of how to approach the topic of... them. Even saying that sounded strange to her ears. 

He edges closer. "Hou—"

"No," She replies. Then a heartbeat later, "No. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

She nods her denial.

"Okay. Okay, that’s fine.”  He says, perplexed. "Let's begin with what's bothering you?"

Mostly you. 

When she doesn't reply, he does actually come closer to where she sits.

"I can't help you if you won't talk to me, Houzuki."

She looks at him over wet eyelashes, horrified at how her emotions were really out of control today. She swipes a hand across her eyes and avoids his concerned gaze. 

"I have a lot of things to think about." And you being unaware of my feelings or actively ignoring them really isn't helping. 

"That's a good start. Things like...?"

"Like how you're so casually avoiding everything that happened a mere two weeks ago." Before her mind catches up with her mouth, the words have been said and all she can do is slam a hand flush against her lips and hope to disappear into oblivion. 

The idea of Seppuku sounded very tempting right about now.

"I'm not."

"Not what?" She asks. 

"Not avoiding what happened that day,” He purses his lips. "I can't even if I want to."

She suddenly feels a whole lot more vulnerable, kneading fists into her lap. Oh great, she'd made everything even more awkward than it already was. He wasn't even looking at her. 

"Actually forget what I just said. I'm tired—" This is exactly why I needed alone time. "—with nationals coming and all."

"That's why I didn't mention it." He mumbles. 

"Mention what."

"That day... The confession..... Us. With nationals coming up, you'd want to focus on this. I know how passionate you are,”  His gaze softens. "I've always loved that about you."

The word sends a pleasant tingle down her spine. Us. We. Him and me. Love—

"You mean as a friend?"

"What?"

"Love me,” She repeats robotically. "As a friend."

He raises a brow, amused. "Why does everyone keep asking me that?" He sighs, “Tetsuki, Glasses. Gosh, even Isaki." 

Satowa chokes on air. "I-Isaki-san knows?" 

"You're lucky you didn't have to answer her questions." His expression looks genuinely pained.

Satowa giggles at the image of Chika smothered by Isaki's bear hugs. His grin widens near impossibly at her. "It's been a while since you smiled normally at me. I've missed it."

"You've had your fair share of beautiful smiles, I think." The visual of girls batting their eyelashes at him turns her mouth sour. Chika is beautiful. She doesn't deserve him. "Enough for at least a decade."

"They aren't you.”

"No. They're better than me."

He looks at her, mouth hanging open like his jaw had unscrewed itself. "Do you genuinely believe that?"

She does. Satowa belonged from a boring world. She lived a mundane life; eating, practicing, sleeping, waking up, practicing, repeat. And Chika contrasted her completely, all wide amber eyes with an adventurous gleam in them.

She loved them so much, it was driving her crazy. And lately her obsession had gotten worse, not that she'd ever admit to it. 

"Did I make you feel that way..?" She wants to wipe the hurt off his face. Satowa rises off the floor, dusting her skirt off. 

I don't deserve you. 

"Don't pity me. I didn't want to push my feelings on you, either way. You saying I love you back there really saved me from the embarrassment. Thank you."

His jaw goes slack. His gaze remained glued to the floor as if it would turn to lava any minute.

He collects himself with a deep breath. "What about my behavior made you think I don't return your feelings?"

She doesn't understand the question. Because though Satowa had basically confessed her undying love and desire to stay by his side forever, she had not for once considered him feeling the same. 

So she shrugs, awkwardly. "I'm not worth the effort."

When his gaze lifts off the floor to meet hers, a chill runs up her spine. He looks conflicted, rubbing his neck in consideration . And somehow that makes her want to kiss him so bad her toes curl into themselves.

"You're not... worth the effort...” He reiterates, incredulous.

"Look I'm sorry for how things turned out,” She says, frantically trying to defuse the situation. "I can be a bullhead and say unnecessary things and this wasn't one of my brightest moments. So let's just forget this ever happened? Yeah?"

"How about no?” He replies, blankly. "I want to know what about that day and what the fuck about my confession made you think I haven't been in love with you for the longest time?"

"Look again, no need to—"

"No, you listen," He says, hovering dangerously close to her face, face dark with anger. “I meant what I said that day. I love you. Dammit—I ran back all the way because I was jealous out of my mind with scenarios of someone else finding you play, plus this room is soundproof and they could take advantage of that—like some petty idiot and here you are—"

"You what?” She asks, stunned. 

"—convincing me not to love you after you confessed first, by the way. You said you loved me—"

"Kudou...”

"No. Shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, hot with anger. Well, hot in more ways than one. "You taught me that there was good in me, that I was redeemable in some way. Even though I've hurt people. I nearly killed Grandpa. "

"You know you didn't do it.” She consoles. 

 "Not until you came around, no. “He shakes his head. “Not until that day when you told me you wanted me to be happy, to not be hurt, to cherish me. Did the thought never cross your mind that maybe I felt the same?"

 She stares at him, blinking. No. It really hadn't because what really was lovable about her? She was a taciturn, obsessed Koto player that cared little outside of her small world.

Why would he—why would anyone love her?

"Oh my God,” He whispers. "You really didn't."

Satowa doesn't reply, she just feels small in front of his large frame towering over her.

"Th-that's because there's nothing you could see in me worth your while! I'm average looking at best, good at nothing except the instrument I've played since I was born. I haven't been on dates, I haven't...k-kissed... "

"Houzu—"

"I'm boring and dull and there's so many better people you could be spending time with because you're amazing and you're way too good looking to be wasting your time on me—"

"Houzuki listen to m—"

"And all these feelings you're feeling are temporary, just because I saved you. Maybe you're grateful for what I said—"

"Satowa."

She stills, both to the deep tone of his voice and the hand gripping her wrist firmly. Her vision goes all blurry; she can't really see him or anything around them, only feel his thumb stroking her palm in a continuous rhythm. 

"I'm sorry,” He says, finally. "I'm sorry I had no idea you've been feeling insecure this whole time. God, I really have my head way up my ass like Tetsuki says."

She laughs despite herself. She feels his hold tighten. 

"I never could imagine for a second that someone as perfect as you could feel this way."

“P-perfect?” 

"You've always been so balanced and confident, I thought I was the only one weighing my self-worth against your standards. I never felt enough for you because you're... You know, you; beautiful, brilliant, talented... I've been so stupid."

She purses her lips. "I'm really not what you make me out to be."

"Maybe. Maybe not. But does it really matter?" She looks up though her eyes felt like she'd doused them in vinegar. "You said you love me. And I definitely love you—no questions asked. Is that not enough for us both?"

"I....” She whispers. "You're right.... It should be."

He releases a long sigh. "So we've finally reached a conclusion?"

"I think.”

"That we may feel mutually undeserving but we still love each other and there's nothing we can do about that?"

"That sounds very embarrassing,” She hides her blush. "But yes."

"Okay. Good. Finally. "

The fingers curled around her wrist make Satowa feel something in the pit of her stomach, pulsating within as he draws closer into her space.

He wraps an arm around her waist, the other leaving her wrist to explore all the other places they could be. Up her arm, her shoulder, the crook of her neck, the flowing strands of her hair.

Satowa's lids drop, mouth opening in a small exhale. "What was that about the soundproof room?"

It's like her words flip a switch.

Instantly, he dives down to capture her lips, pulling her into him. She's so small in his arms, feeling the full height of him as if for the first time. Sensing her discomfort, he puts hands under her thighs, grabbing as she hops off the floor and into his grasp, ankles hooking behind his waist.

 "Jesus," he whispers, kissing down her neck like he'd devour her. "How are you so beautiful?"

She throws her head back, letting him nip at her skin. She'll be bruised by tomorrow, but nothing Hiro’s concealer can't hide. "I'm not..." She arches her back when his hands wander a little lower.

"Let me show you," he drawls, kissing her jaw up to her lips. "Let me show you just how beautiful you are to me."

Satowa's suddenly too warm in her blouse, holding her breath as the buttons fall open and his hands traverse inside, tracing the lines of her body. His palms are warm, thumb stroking the underside of her breast, raising goose bumps wherever he touches.

Her arms circle around his neck to sink into his hair, drawing him closer. Kudou walks them to a mahogany desk in the room, putting her carefully down as if she were spun of glass.

He breaks away to look into her eyes tentatively. Satowa whines, scrunching her face to appear as displeased as she feels. He laughs, pinching her nose. His finger moves over her features, swiping against her lips, her chin, her throat, her breast, her stomach.

Satowa's breath hitches in her throat.

Kudou looks at her through hooded eyelids. "Tell me to stop and I will," he says, turning his palm downward, pushing under the belt of her skirt. The expanse of his hand is the entire size of her waist; God, he's so large it's doing things to her. Satowa closes her eyes.

He cups her cheek with the other hand, gently lifting her chin to his gaze. “I need an answer."

She opens her mouth, tried to give him a verbal answer. When one finger touches her swollen lips, she can only manage a strangled moan before nodding furiously.

He goes painfully slow. So slow, that Satowa has to move herself to let him know she's strong enough to handle it. He doesn't relent.

"Kudou," she groans, opening her legs wider for him. "God, please I'm going to lose it."

Sensing her urgency, he puts another finger in. Satowa gasps, arching her back till she almost hits the desk. Kudou catches her in time, cradling her head softly.

He pumps slowly, letting the rhythm build within her. It's too much stimulation for her and Satowa bites back the sound threatening to rip its way out her throat.

He drags her arm away, shaking his head solemnly at her. "I want to hear you." He quickens his pace, drawing a shocked gasp from the girl. "I want to know what I'm doing to you."

"Please, please I'm —" Satowa throws her arm out like a child, begging for him to hold her. She doesn't know what she's feeling, but it’s strong, like a jug full to the brim. Like a chalice that's about to spill.

He responds immediately, wrapping one arm around her waist and holding her to his chest. The other hand goes faster and faster till Satowa bends, throwing her head back with a scream.

"Yes, yes. I'm so—" She's barely making any sense. "I don't know—I feel—yes, there, right there—" She pushes down on his fingers herself, feeling them touch a place that has her mouth hang open wordlessly.

Taking the cue, he searches for it and presses, deeper into her than before and Satowa screams, muscles rippling under her skin. She clenches her teeth, letting the wave send her body in a frenzy. It's over in a flash.

Satowa slumps in his arms, head thudding loudly against his chest. She's still for a moment.

"Hey." Kudou breaks the silence, wrapping an arm around her tighter. "You okay?"

She exhales, slowly blinking her eyes open to his worried gaze. Satowa taps on his shoulder, dragging him to her.

"Kiss." She commands like a petulant child. He replies, grinning, slowly rolling her lips into his mouth, rubbing her back in a motion that almost lulls her to sleep. 

"You're so beautiful," he says, playing with the strands of her hair that fall over his shirt. "The prettiest."

Satowa flushes, swatting at his hand before noticing something hard touch her core. She shudders on instinct, looking up at his sheepish gaze.

"We should...uhh...” Satowa offers vaguely, though she really doesn't know what to do.

"I'll...take care of it later." He replies, embarrassed.

"But we could—" He puts a finger over her lips, wincing in pain as she moves over him.

"Not yet," he groans, reaching down to kiss her desperately. "Today was just for you. I wanted you to see the depth of my feelings. Just what I want to do to you."

Her eyes darken again, she yanks him down by his collar, kissing a chain up his throat. He gulps.

"Then teach me next time," she touches the tent forming in his jeans. He whimpers, rubbing instinctively into her palm. "So I can understand what I want to do."

He nods frantically before moving away from her to breathe. It takes them both a moment to gather themselves before they decide to move. He helps Satowa off the table. Her feet wobble uncontrollably, an uncomfortable space forming between her legs. She grunts, smoothing the pleats of her skirt.

"Wanna play something?" Kudou gestures to the Koto, tapping at his watch. “We have another half hour left."

Though she'd love to just go up to her room and shower, Satowa can't deny the excitement in his eyes. She smiles. "Fifteen minutes."

His grin is the widest she's seen since the day he confessed.

They spend more of their time fooling around rather than really playing, not that Satowa minds.

Satowa doesn't really like sweet things, she concludes, unless it comes wrapped like a Christmas present under a tree in the form of a bright haired, bright smiled boy.