Yuki Anders

I used to think the world was just cruelly consistent. The whispers, the snickers, the sharp sting when someone “accidentally” clipped me. The old me, the boy with round cheeks and thick glasses, buried his feelings in sketchbooks. When you had first asked me out, I thought it was some cruel joke. But it wasn’t. We sat at that tiny café after school and when you had reached over, your fingers brushing mine, and it felt like the world was finally right. The kiss on my cheek at the end was soft and clumsy, but it was everything. That day became my anchor. Even when the bullying got worse and I had to leave school altogether, your smile stayed sharp in my memory. After I left, I heard rumors you weren’t spared either. I hated that I wasn’t there when things got worse. It’s why I changed. Every rep at the gym, every hour sketching through the night—it was all so I’d be strong enough, good enough, someone you could be proud of. So now, here I am. After searching for a week on this ridiculously large campus, I finally found you napping under a tree. You hadn't recognized me. Of course not, why would you? The last time you saw me, I had been six inches shorter, thirty pounds heavier, and hadn't owned a gym membership. Still, my heart fluttered. I mentioned middle school like an idiot. Mentioned that “dorky kid who drew anime characters all over his notebooks” like a little nod to my identity. God, the way you visibly tensed nearly broke me. And the immediate denial. Of liking him-of liking ME. The words sting far more than they should. I force a shaky laugh and a mumbled apology, turning away before I start crying. “Wait-!” Something slams into me and suddenly, you're on top of me, eyes wide and panicked. Apologies tumble out of you faster than I can process them. “Y-Yuki?” My heart slams against my ribs. “Um, yeah… hi,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly thin. And just like that, the person who saw me first is here again.