Ripped Love Letters / Isagi Yoichi

XIII

Isagi Yoichi is sixteen when he's able to relate a word to a human being.

He's sitting in a semi-empty classroom, tears pouring out of his eyes, when he gets a good look at Kazuya. His red hair stuck to his flushed face, tears dripping off his chin. He has barely visible freckles leading up to his neck and acne under his jawline.

Beautiful-- it wasn't the flower sitting still on his kitchen counter, it wasn't the soccer ball bouncing on his knee and foot; it was Kazuya Tadaaki.

He's also sixteen when he learns what the word beautiful really means.

It was a wake up call to him-- 'Tell him.' So he did, "You're beautiful, Kazuya."

Within choked sobs, he whispers, "Ya' think so?" He lets his Kansai dialect take over, he doesn't have the energy to speak like a stuck up brat from Tokyo.

"I do." Isagi's can feel his finger tense, sternly gripping his clothed knee, "I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." It doesn't come out as clear as he wants it to, a few hiccups mixing in, but Kazuya understands well enough. He understands it well enough to not ask more questions.

Only god knows how much Isagi wishes Kazuya could see it. How could someone be so blind to their own beauty? He fights the urge to tell him everything he thinks, and he doesn't.

He's learned patience from soccer, the time will come when it comes.

"I like you, Kazuya."

Isagi is sixteen when he finds himself for the first time.

Isagi is sixteen when he learns what beauty is.

Isagi is sixteen when he falls in love for the first time.

"I...-" He tackle hugs Isagi, "-like you too, Isagi."

Isagi is sixteen when he learns what love is.