Welcome to Heaven | ✓

44: Pocky

The path to school stretched for centuries.

Possibly due to the fact that my mind travelled with the clouds across the autumn sky, my senses were detached from the students scampering through the streets and the stunning red, orange, and yellow leaves adorning the trees and roads.

The commotion by the shoe lockers was unparalleled. As I exchanged my shoes, I paid attention to the squeals and giggles. Girls lined the walls, peeking out into the hallway and twittering in exaggerated awe. Had Nori arrived early? He habitually strolled into class at the bell to avoid the commotion that was sure to follow. They'd been apart from him for a month; this thrill about seeing him again was understandable.

At least, I was convinced of that until I passed by and spotted my best friend. I brightened straightaway.

"Miko—"

"I barely recognized you!"

I stilled in my tracks. Precisely because it wasn't Nori she was conversing with. In fact, Nori was nowhere to be found. Across from her, with an arm swung over his shoulder, stood an individual I wasn't familiar with. Regardless, the piercing stares, the frenzied enthusiasm—without a doubt, it was aimed at him.

"What happened to your glasses? Did they break?"

"I'm... wearing contacts."

"And your hair? Because of the summer heat?"

"That was part of it. But, um..."

"Miko, Miko." I poked her back, whispering, "Who're you talking to?"

"Who?" She swivelled, eyebrows taut, as if it were a stupid question.

When he stared at me with those deep-seated blue eyes, I fell in reverse. His glabrous, pallid complexion. Snow white hair dangling by his ears and nape. Soft, pink lips twisted into a minuscule smile. His lithe stature, and thin uniform.

A swirl of heat scorched my skin, and my pulse spiked.

If the term 'pretty boy' had a physical manifestation, it'd be him, guaranteed.

But who...

His features softened considerably. "Good morning, Kotorin."

That nickname...

No way.

No flippin' way.

"Haya...te?" It didn't feel real, yet, just like that, the realization settled in afresh. "You're... Hayate, right?"

"Um"—He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck—"do I look that different?"

Different didn't come close to encapsulating it!

His previously long hair had been chopped and styled expertly. He'd discarded his large spectacles, leaving his large eyes in clear sight. He straightened his posture also, and in replace of his reserved, bashful demeanour, was an expressive version. Not to mention a crowd this huge surrounded us yet he effortlessly stood his ground instead of dashing off to hide as he normally did.