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As much as this little informal story mainly focuses on the romantic journey between a certain psychic and a (h/c) haired female, your author here would have to admit that one of what I had enjoyed writing the most in this amateur work is the little segments which would showcase the wholesome, platonic, adoptive relationship of our (h/c) head with Kobayasu Aren.
There is always something too precious for one to ruin with the painful twists and turns of romance.
It cannot be denied that it was the plum haired boy that has spent the most time with the female, letting a special bond forming between them -- a link that locks them with each other. Perhaps that was the reason why despite of the memory loss regarding the existence of (L/N) (Y/N), it was the former delinquent who was immune to the predicament.
Yet, having no one to turn to and seek assistance from the phenomena of his good friend's diminishing existence, the poor boy was in a loss, desprately searching for the female with tousled (h/c) locks and anyone who can recall the boisterous, dorky imbecile. Growing fond of her presence, the anxious thoughts of possibly not seeing her once more swarmed his mind relentlessly for days -- especially upon visiting her empty apartment unit. He feared of such an outcome, aware how (Y/N)'s presence was always an odd one; she literally just popped out of nowhere after all.
Kobayasu Aren was a tough former delinquent, renowned for his strength and juvenile days. However, that doesn't rid of the fact that he was still a teenaged boy -- one with such a kind, earnest heart despite his looks, especially for those who hold a special place inside the albums of his memories.
Even before the past few days of (Y/N)'s short abscence, it had been a daily chore for the bespectacled male to pay the (h/c) haired female's apartment unit -- to do maintenance. Well, he knew the idiot would end up burning down the building if it weren't for him cooking for her sorry butt daily. And, he couldn't let her starve.
Twisting the key through the doorknob, a figurative question mark pops from his head upon finding it unlocked in the first place. Upon the day (Y/N)'s existence just seemed to pop like a bubble, the purple haired teen would always pay a short visit in the always locked and empty unit. Each day, slowly growing with disappointment at the locked, dimly lit, silent room.
This one was not one of those days.
A thump resonates from his chest at the sudden hope that surged within him, a match striking a light of hope for the slowly burning out fire of hope within him.
