intro
On the last day of his senior year, Tooru opens his locker for what would be his last time in his high school journey, only to find a note and a mixtape titled: “To the Changes Between Us”.
This didn’t particularly creep Tooru out, seeing as for as long as he could remember, this wouldn’t be the first time he’d been ambushed with a secret admirer gift, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. However, what piqued Tooru’s curiosity in this particular confession would be the gift itself. He only knew of the pain and effort that went through producing a mixtape (courtesy of Takahiro and his constant complaints about his part-time job at the local records shop). From the Cadbury chocolate bars to the bouquets of roses and baby’s breath to even some of the racier, bolder, ehem, gifts, Tooru has received all sorts of confessions.
(It was in the spring of his junior year when he opened up his locker, totally clueless of what laid inside. When he twisted the combo, then laughing at the ugly face Hajime had made at him, and looked inside, he found its contents scarring him for life. A shrill, girl-like scream escaped his throat as he had jumped back in the air, tripping over nothing, and promptly landing on his ass. Inside his locker was a lacy red, strappy D-cup bra that would presumably leave no room to the imagination, accompanied by frilly underwear that seemed more like a string than an undergarment. Eyes wide with terror, he clasped his hands across his mouth, muffling his yells. It wasn’t long until the hallway became crowded with students trying to catch a glimpse of the sexy lingerie. A teacher was eventually called down, effectively dismissing the hordes of teenagers, but could not wave away the burning red flush of Tooru’s second-hand embarrassment. For the next two periods, Tooru was stuck in the principal’s office, questioned for possible perpetrators of such “promiscuous and indecent” actions, only for the administration to never capture the culprit. It wasn’t until the last month of school did Tooru feel comfortable using his locker again- overstaying his welcome at Hajime’s locker for a good two months of micro-managing and textbook cramming.)
A mixtape was something he had never received before from his flock of admirers. He felt genuinely touched at whoever put so much effort into it and decided to take a short listen. Before that, he glanced at the note that was given alongside the tape.
Dear Tooru,
It’s the last day of school, last day of high school, for you. This won’t be a long note, in fact, I think it’ll be pretty short. This mixtape took me nearly six hours to perfect, the reason I’m telling you this being that you don’t throw this away as you do with most of your gifts. It’s hard. Hard to verbalize how I’ve felt for you these past years when words don’t seem enough to describe what I feel.
However, songs do, hence this.
In this cassette are songs that I feel describe our journey together- or rather what I’ve felt for you all these years. It’s not all about the lyrics, some of them merely about the sound or even directly connecting to a specific memory. I don’t want you to overthink it, but think about it just enough to validate my efforts. They might not all mesh well as a good playlist, but it describes what I want to say accurately, so deal with it.
I’m not signing this letter with my name, seeing as how you’ll probably recognize my voice on the tape. If you share this with anyone, and I mean anyone, I’ll rip you to shreds.
I’m baring my heart out here, so for once in your life, don’t be too cruel with me.
When you’re done listening to the tape, meet me at The Garage in a week, at 6:00 PM.
Love- well, you’ll figure it out anyway.
Tooru leaned his back against the navy blue lockers, sliding down until he reached the floor. He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair, mind running wild at the possibilities of who the secret admirer could be. Typically, it would be easy to decipher who the sender was, either to how obvious the person was in front of Tooru or because of the hints dropped in the note itself. In this case, however, Tooru would be unable to gauge how out-of-norm people are acting around him since the school was already over for the year, and the writer left no hints to who they could be. The only clue he got from it would be that the person’s known him for a long time (which doesn’t say much seeing as he’s been in the area since he was born) and that they know he’s sometimes a cruel jerk (which isn’t exactly uncommon knowledge, despite the number of people in his fan club).
Also, that they’re no stranger to violence, Tooru stares at the slight threat warily. Still doesn’t narrow down the pool, however.
He sighs. There was no possible way for him to figure it out without having to listen to the mixtape. After all, the person did say that he’d be able to recognize the voice. So he’ll listen to the first few minutes of the recording, identify the person, go to The Garage next week at 6:00 PM, and effectively break their heart by turning them down.
Taking out his walkman from the front of his backpack, Tooru pops the lid with a satisfying click and slides in the cassette tape. He presses the PLAY button and closes his eyes. And so he waits.
There’s a background scuffle. A loud thump is soon heard afterward, followed by a faint, yet indistinct groan of pain. Tooru hides his laugh in his sleeve, before realizing that the person could not see him. There’s some more scuffling, the sound of running water in the back, yet still no music or speaking.
Just as Tooru’s starting to become impatient, the phantom secret admirer speaks.
“Uh, is this thing working? Helloooo? Is it recording?”
Tooru’s eyes flew open, heart beating erratically as though he finished a five-set volleyball match.
“Well, let’s just hope this thing’s working, otherwise it’s gonna be a pain in the ass.”
At any other time, Tooru would’ve let out a small laugh, but he was still in shock of his discovery of his admirer.
Of course. Of-fucking-course it would be him. Him with his ridiculously, gorgeous lapis blue eyes, shining bright in admiration and innocence. His fingers itch at the memory of feeling ebony, silk hair running through his hands. A blush stains his cheeks at the remembrance of a boy soaked in sweat, pulling up the end of his club volleyball shirt to wipe his brow, revealing a chiseled, Adonis-like set of six-packs.
Another round of scuffling. Hushed voices are heard, one of them a female, he notes. Tooru strains to hear what they’re saying, only a quiet, “Thanks, Miwa.” clearly decipherable.
He clicks the PAUSE.
Tooru had thought that once he knew the identity of his secret admirer, he would be able to walk away from this event and the mixtape as a minuscule memory from high school, a good story to tell years from now at some family gathering. But now that he knew who it was, he couldn’t simply walk away from it anymore.
This was no longer some faint-hearted confession. This was one of the most meaningful declarations of love Tooru has ever received, that too by the most uncute person in the world.
He looks to his left, then to his right, seeing no one else in the hallway. The janitor would eventually come down and kick him out of the school. (Maybe, just maybe, Tooru would be able to milk another extra twenty minutes by bribing him with a baggie of his mother’s cookies, considering that it’s worked in the past before when he wanted extra time to practice for volleyball.) But until then, he made himself comfy against the ridges of his locker and the vinyl tiles of the school floor, knowing well that this would take a while.
He presses PLAY once more.
“Um, hey Tooru.”
Hey, Tooru thinks back. He chuckles slightly at the awkward greeting.
Good to know you’re still the same on tape.
“Shouyou told me to start off by saying hello. I wasn’t too sure about it, considering that he’s a major dumbass, but since he knows more about social-y stuff than I do, I’m following through on his advice. If you haven’t already figured out who I am, I guess I should introduce myself too.”
Oh, I know who you are, Tooru thought woefully, if not a tad wistfully. You’re my annoying underclassmen. A genius setter. A used-to-be tyrannical king. A misunderstood person. An oblivious dork. The prettiest boy I ever saw. A person with the purest of intentions. A volleyball brained idiot. One of the cutest uncute people in the world.
You’re Tobio-chan.
“It’s me, Tobio Kageyama.”
Tooru takes a deep breath. There it was, those few words confirming that Tobio was indeed his secret admirer and effectively putting everything in Tooru’s world to an abrupt halt.
“And I’ve been in love with you for the past seven years of my life.”
Tooru’s heart stops.