Outsider Syndrome | ✓

Chapter 30 (2) - "What It Means To Live"

"I think they turned out pretty well!"

I admired the chocolates laid out on the counter before us. After eating our fill (Naru, from my lunchbox, and me, my snacks), Miss Akagi reentered the classroom. She shooed us off to the cooking lab, reiterating we only had until clubs were over. Our handcuffs snagged her attention also to which she scoffed about it being some kind of teenage trend before ducking out to deal with grading assignments in the faculty room.

Upon entering the lab, we spotted convenience store bags and a tiny note—Kiharu and Tsumugi had bought items beforehand and left us to use them instead. From there, preparing the chocolate with my handicap was insanely difficult. Naru was quite the clumsy individual on top of that, which led to a few setbacks (him spilling or drenching himself in chocolate a few times). One way or another, though—between plentiful laughs and teasing Naru—we managed to properly coordinate our movements and recreate the chocolate recipe Mom had ingrained in me over the years.

"The only thing left to do is decorating and wrapping," I continued.

"You made quite a lot," Naru noted. "Who's this all for?"

"The both of us."

He fluttered his eyelids.

"Every year, my entire family cooperates to make chocolate, then we split it between us, decorate it, and give it to whoever we want. Since we both worked on it, it only makes sense we apply the same logic."

"But. . . I'm a guy."

"There's no rule only girls can give out chocolate on Valentine's, right? My dad would give out chocolate to his coworkers and friends outside of my mom. In my case, aside from my childhood friend, I'd just eat my portion myself. Valentine's often focuses on romantic love, but love comes in different forms. There's no harm in appreciating those around you too. At least, that's what my mom would insist every time she forced us into making chocolate every year. So, let's decorate our respective chocolates. You must have someone dear you can give them to, right? Like your mom or dad. Siblings."

Naru's lips downturned. "I. . ."

"No arguments," I insisted. "You can even write a tiny message for them in icing. That should be doable with one hand. Oh, and don't look my way no matter what. I won't look at yours either."

After readying respective icing bags and setting the chocolates in a convenient container to easily conceal afterward, I set up a barrier between us to keep my eyes off his side. Then, I got to work. It was infinitely difficult yet not impossible. Naru presumably struggled far worse seeing as his left hand wasn't his dominant hand.

By the time darkness was beginning to seep through the window behind us, I triumphantly retreated from my chocolates.

"Done!"

I beamed at my handiwork. With their miniature shapes, it was hard to write much, so I settled with simple messages, specializing them for everyone. Still, it had me beside myself with joy. Before, I'd complain to Mom that it was pointless making chocolate since I ate most of it myself. Now I had so many people to give them to. So many people I now treasured and wanted to properly appreciate.

My gaze skimmed the ones I'd prepared for Mao, Chie and Dad, and smiled wider.

I was so blessed.