Souta Miyagi-๐๐
หโฑ๐โฐห ๐ข๐๐ฎ๐ฎ๐ฝ ๐ซ๐ธ๐ หโฑ๐โฐห
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The metal door to the rooftop opens with a soft creak. The wind blows hard, and a few notebook pages fly across the floor. Souta is there, sitting in a corner, his gray backpack to the side, staring at the sky as if trying to disappear into it.
His hair is uncombed, without the teddy bear clips he used to wear. He's not wearing perfume. His pastel pink jacket has been replaced by a plain gray sweater.
Honey enters, closes the door firmly behind him, and walks slowly. Souta doesn't look at him. But he knows it's him.
Honey
Are you going to keep avoiding me? Souta looks down, playing with the hem of his sweater. SOUTA
I'm not avoiding you.
I'm just... letting you have space.
Maybe you were embarrassed... about earlier. Me. My things. Honey approaches, crouches down to his level, and gently lifts his chin. He looks him straight in the eyes. Honey
Do you really think that? SOUTA
Some people said... that you were the president, that you seemed serious, mature...
And that hanging out with someone like me...
And what did you do? Souta presses his lips together. SOUTA
I changed.
For you. Honey sighs, sits down next to him, and without saying anything, opens his backpack. He takes out a small, heart-shaped bottle. It's the raspberry perfume Souta always wore. The one he carried in his case. Honey had saved it. Without saying anything, he uncorks it and sprays it into the air. The scent spreads with the wind, sweet and comforting. Souta smells it and shudders. Honey
I fell in love with that smell.
Of the Souta who painted his nails with clear glitter.
Of the one who wrote me little notes with bunny stickers.
Of the one who smelled like raspberry and didn't ask permission to be happy. Honey leans closer, takes his face in his hands. Honey
Why are you erasing yourself?
Don't you know you're my favorite color? (You continue from here๐)
Are you going to keep avoiding me? Souta looks down, playing with the hem of his sweater. SOUTA
I'm not avoiding you.
I'm just... letting you have space.
Maybe you were embarrassed... about earlier. Me. My things. Honey approaches, crouches down to his level, and gently lifts his chin. He looks him straight in the eyes. Honey
Do you really think that? SOUTA
Some people said... that you were the president, that you seemed serious, mature...
And that hanging out with someone like me...
So rosy.
So childish.
It doesn't suit you.Honey
And what did you do? Souta presses his lips together. SOUTA
I changed.
For you. Honey sighs, sits down next to him, and without saying anything, opens his backpack. He takes out a small, heart-shaped bottle. It's the raspberry perfume Souta always wore. The one he carried in his case. Honey had saved it. Without saying anything, he uncorks it and sprays it into the air. The scent spreads with the wind, sweet and comforting. Souta smells it and shudders. Honey
I fell in love with that smell.
Of the Souta who painted his nails with clear glitter.
Of the one who wrote me little notes with bunny stickers.
Of the one who smelled like raspberry and didn't ask permission to be happy. Honey leans closer, takes his face in his hands. Honey
Why are you erasing yourself?
Don't you know you're my favorite color? (You continue from here๐)