Akihito (Kyoukai no Kanata)X Sakura

He'd been watching her from a distance for weeks at this point, trying desperately to work up the courage to go talk to her, but no matter what he did, he always ended up freezing in place and watching her walk by.

Each day after school, he'd begin his routine.

Leave school and take a short bus ride further into town.

Cross three roads until he got to the library.

Once at the library, his palms would start sweating, his stomach would flutter and his tongue would go dry.

He'd walk in, and slowly, oh so slowly, make his way towards the back, making sure it looked like he was just browsing the racks as he went. He'd take this time to make sure his messy blond hair was at least a little presentable, glance in at one of the shinier shelves and make sure he didn't have anything on his face, maybe practice a smile or two.

Once he got far enough in, he'd see her and freeze, his form half hidden by a shelf as she hummed softly to herself.

Short pink hair that looked so shiny, he wanted to know if it was as soft as he imagined.

Pale skin that glowed in the light, the well placed window casting a backdrop of the town behind her.

She liked softer, muted colours, her clothes always reflecting her preference. Today it looked like she'd felt like wearing a sundress, the pale blue and white jacket on the seat to her left, always just within reaching distance.

She was small, tiny compared to some of the people he knew. But her curves were always there for him to see, no matter how much she hid them with bulky jumpers or loose clothing.

And her eyes.

Her large green orbs, so full of life and innocence.

Framed by those delectable glasses.

She was beautiful.

Perfect.

And as she let out a soft, content sigh, he knew she would be leaving soon.

The routine continued as usual.

She would read, then after an hour or so, close her book softly and place it on the desk next to her.

She'd grab her jacket and shrug it on, doing it up before taking one look out the window and turning towards him.

A shuffle.

She left her little nook.

One step.

She was closer.

Two steps.

She was within reaching distance.

Three steps.

He could smell the sweet scent of her perfume.

Four steps.

She'd give him a small smile and look at him with those large eyes.

Five steps.

He'd be bright red and clutching some random book in an effort to look busy.

Six steps.

And she was gone.

On her way home.

And he was left standing there, looking at the place where she once sat in awe, his stomach fluttering, his mouth refusing to cooperate and his head fuzzy.

Looks like he failed again.

With a sigh he pushed the book back into the shelf, looking over his shoulder as her pink hair disappeared out the doors.

'Maybe next time…Next time I'll talk to her.' He'd always think to himself, vowing that it'd be different next time.

So the routine would begin again.

And the cycle would repeat.