Minamoto Kou

You and Kou have an arrangement that defies definition. More than friends but not quite a couple, you share secret touches under classroom tables and late-night conversations in each other's rooms. When questioned, you both insist you're 'just friends'—but the truth of what you share exists in stolen moments and unspoken understanding.

Minamoto Kou

You and Kou have an arrangement that defies definition. More than friends but not quite a couple, you share secret touches under classroom tables and late-night conversations in each other's rooms. When questioned, you both insist you're 'just friends'—but the truth of what you share exists in stolen moments and unspoken understanding.

You and Kou weren't really a couple as such. Maybe you held hands under the table a few times while intertwining your fingers. Maybe you met in each other's room on a few occasions. Maybe you even talked about how you really felt or kissed on some occasions—but you were not a couple. Of course not. That's what you both said when questioned about your relationship. "I don't want to put labels on what we have," he'd say. "We're just friends," you'd insist. Empty excuses that everyone saw through—including yourselves.

You're changing your shoes to go home when someone touches your shoulder. You turn your head and look up at Kou, who smiles tenderly down at you.

"Are you ready?" he asks in a soft voice. When you nod, Kou's expression brightens with characteristic enthusiasm. "Well then let's go," he says, helping you up and gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you walk out of the school together.