Mihoshi crossed his arms behind his head, and said, “Isn’t it exhausting to be lying all the time? You gotta pretend to be this goody-two-shoes when you're secretly hating every interaction. You can barely sneak off to smoke, and you gotta make sure no one notices anything, you gotta focus on your act. I would have keeled over if I had to lie like that everyday.”

“Which is why I'm glad you're here.” Sora snaked an arm around Mihoshi’s waist, pulling him close. “Everyone’s always trying to butter me up in some way. Either because of my family, or my face. I can’t exactly push them away, or my parents will find out. So I have to be polite. It’s exhausting. But I don't have to watch my words or put up a nice-guy act with you. You’d never lie to me.”

“Huh? So you're just gonna treat me like trash?”

“There's no way I would do that.” Sora chuckled. “You're too precious.”

Mihoshi flickered his gaze at Sora again, but this time, a hint of pink dusted his cheeks. The warmth seeping from Sora's hand on his waist spread to the rest of his body in gentle waves. He relaxed his arms, letting them fall to his sides. Sora leaned closer till they were pressed together; their hearts beating in accordance.

Alone together in the empty classroom, Mihoshi became hyperaware of Sora’s presence. With their faces right next to each other, Mihoshi could only look into the deep darkness of Sora’s eyes.

Thump! Thump!

His heart raged.

He leaned in, eyelids fluttering in the heat rising from his cheeks. He could see Sora’s long eyelashes, the flicker of his gaze, the slight blush on his cheeks, and savoring all of these, Mihoshi touched their lips together.

The kiss lasted only a second. Mihoshi backed away, unable to look at Sora. The heat that encapsulated his face reached all the way to the tips of his ears.

Although it felt like a long moment of quiet, only three seconds passed before Sora reached his hand out to cup Mihoshi’s face, drawing him in, and pressing their lips together again.

This time, the kiss was firm, bearing the weight of their unspoken feelings. Sora shifted so that he was kneeling between Mihoshi’s legs, trapping Mihoshi against the wall as their lips sealed one another. They parted for breath, but it was only for a split second before Sora devoured him again. Unwillingly, Mihoshi moaned into the kiss and fisted his hands in Sora’s shirt.

Wet smacking sounds disturbed the silence of the empty classroom.

After what felt like forever, Mihoshi pushed Sora away, gasping for air. Cheeks flushed red, heat surrounded them. Skinship was normal between friends, but the way their bodies were currently so close to each other felt far more intimate than ever.

The kiss left Mihoshi flustered. His shoulders rose and fell, his spine tingled, and his lower abdomen burned with need. Every teenage boy knew what it was. But the fact that his desire for Sora was now laid bare washed him with embarrassment.

“Why do you hesitate?”

The question startled Mihoshi, and he turned his face, making direct eye contact with Sora.

“What do you mean?” Mihoshi feigned ignorance.

Sora crumpled his eyebrows. “You’re doing it again.”

Mihoshi looked away. “It's just…I can't help it. Next to you, I don't feel…worthy. I don't have anything. Not the brains or the looks. The only thing I have going is aikido and there are way more people who are better than me. So I don't know…how I could…stand next to you…”

Sora scoffed. “What makes you think that? Am I not obvious enough? Do I have to spell it out for you?”

“I don't understand. Why me?”

Sora cupped Mihoshi's cheek, making eye contact. “Look. There are lots of people here. Lots of smart, rich, good-looking people. They're a cut above the rest, they’re capable of achieving great things. But I don't care about them. At the end of the day, the one I want by my side is you, Mihoshi.”

The words were spoken with a strong conviction that left no room for doubt.

Mihoshi wanted to believe in it, wanted to believe that such a fantasy could exist. He cast his eyes down, biting his lips.

Seeing this hesitation, Sora leaned in and placed a kiss on Mihoshi's forehead.

“We’re gonna have our secondary trait test soon. We’ll know.”

Mihoshi clamped his mouth shut. It was obvious that Sora was an alpha with his extraordinarily good looks, extensive intelligence, and amazing physical attributes. On the other hand, Mihoshi was…average.

Sora tightened his grip around Mihoshi’s waist. “Maybe you’re an omega.”

At that, Mihoshi raised an incredulous brow.

“Do you know about Fated Pairs?” Sora asked, a twinkle in his eyes. “An alpha and omega, destined to be together like the red thread of fate. Against all odds, no words are needed for them to recognize each other. They simply know by instinct, by their pheromones. Isn’t it such a romantic thing?”

“What are you getting at…?” Mihoshi asked hesitantly, a tickle crawled in his belly.

Sora’s eyes smiled like crescent moons. “I feel like we’re destined to be together. You’re my Fated Pair.”

The tickling sensation in Mihoshi’s belly erupted into fluttering butterflies. Heat spread across his cheeks. His wide eyes quivered, his lips sealed in a straight line. The sound of his heartbeat echoed against the orange sky of the approaching dusk, growing louder by the second.

“Don’t you believe me?” Sora leaned in closer. “From the day we ran into each other, I felt a strange sensation inside. I’ve never felt it before, not with anyone. Being with you feels comfortable, natural, like I could do anything. Being with you…feels right. We haven’t manifested yet, but I know…”

Mihoshi kept his gaze on Sora. The charming eyes. The captivating smile. The slight tint of pink on his cheeks.

What if Sora was right?

What if they truly were a Fated Pair?

Then maybe, it would give Mihoshi the justification for this throbbing feeling in his heart.

***

A constant ringing woke Mihoshi from his fitful sleep.

His futon covered the entire floor space of his tiny studio apartment located a fifteen-minute walk from kabuki-cho. Several old buildings occupied the surrounding area, some housing illegal residents or dangerous individuals. In this place where people struggled to survive, no one cared about such legalities. The silent vow to turn a blind eye made living here bearable.

Unlike the house Mihoshi used to live in, the thin walls looked a hundred years old. The bathroom was too cramped even for a single person. There wasn't any space for a kitchen, so Mihoshi usually ate at work or grabbed something from the convenience store. He didn't have much material possession. Everything he owned could fit in a bag.

Sunlight filtered in from the rattling windows, a sight he had grown unaccustomed to because his days and nights weren't the same with regular people's.

Mihoshi blinked a few times to wipe away the sleep, kicked the blanket off him, and rolled over to grab the ringing phone next to his pillow. Without checking the caller ID, he answered, “Hello…?”

— “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

A mellow, deep voice sounded from the other end of the line. Mihoshi's heart skipped a beat and he jolted up, clutching the phone close to his ear.

“Sora?”

— “Did you sleep well?”

“What? Uh? Yes?” Mihoshi stuttered and quickly checked the time on the phone. 11:45am. He had closed his eyes for about six hours, but barely slept for a few hours because of his jumpy nerves.

The memories of last night flashed in his mind. The pink and purple lights, the heated atmosphere, the closeness of Sora hugging him and whispering in his ear. It wasn't a dream. After six years apart, they were in front of each other again, picking up where they left off.

The mountain of lies he built were now right behind him.

“But I don't have to watch my words or put up a nice-guy act with you. You’d never lie to me.”

How could he have slept well?

— “Are you free today?”

“Ah?” Mihoshi stammered.

Technically, he didn't have to go to work till the evening. But running on so little sleep wasn't ideal, especially if he had to be prepared for any incidents later on. He really should spend the day in bed, but he couldn't find the words to explain to Sora.

It never used to be like this. Back in high school, they had no trouble being honest and straightforward with each other, as though they had been friends for much longer. Sora was comfortable with Mihoshi and therefore, easily opened up to him. Mihoshi, on the other hand, admired Sora and earnestly wanted to share everything.

And yet, Mihoshi found himself unable to speak up, his confidence and courage strangled and buried by guilt and regret.

A disgusting sense of anxiety crumpled his stomach. This shouldn't go on. This couldn't go on.

Breathing in, Mihoshi asked, “How…how do you have my number?”

There was silence on the other end for a while.

Then, Sora’s voice hit Mihoshi square in the chest.

— “I’ve never deleted your number.”