It had been a good week since he had last spoken to her – since their eyes met and his blood boiled and he recalled the horrific events of that day – yet, she still haunted him daily. She constantly made way into his line of vision, infecting his every waking moment with regret. And when she wasn't looming over him in the daytime she was coming up in his dreams, accusational tears incarcerating him for his sins.

Kohaku Yamashita was everywhere but no where all at the same time.

She had refused to speak to him, or even to look at him for that matter, and it stung. Aoi hadn't previously thought it possible to be physically hurt by something purely emotional, but every time he hoped that she would turn around and look his way – every time she feigned innocence when others questioned the sudden halt to their companionship – the boy could actually feel his heart being pierced.

Humans were fragile – they were paper thin – and without the sunshine to block the rainclouds from rolling in, Aoi realized just how easily a drenched heart could tear.

It had been a miserable week since he had last spoken to her, and the only thing reminding Aoi that he was still alive was the painful pulsating of his damaged heart and the biting idea that whatever he was feeling Kohaku was experiencing in a tenfold.

He had messed up and there was no going back.

He had messed up and it was all over now.

He had taken a lot for granted, Aoi realized, as he stood before the stoic school gates on that dreary Wednesday morning. And he had misconstrued one too many things.

He could recall their first real conversation – Satsuki and Misaki's advice pushing him to ditch his predispositions and take a chance; that talk show that he naively thought would turn his internet persona into a star; the beginnings of an unexpected rollercoaster ride that even he couldn't predict.

Kohaku Yamashita. He had originally taken her as someone annoying and extremely fake – and to some extent he could now see that he was somewhat correct. Kohaku never was what she seemed. She was someone constantly in hiding – someone weak and fragile that he had unknowingly attained the desire to protect. Yet he had failed.

Aoi clenched his hand into a fist. He clicked his tongue irritably.

He could feel her warmth as he caught her in surprise by the wrist; the want to laugh at her idiotic belief in the rumors concerning his sexuality; the heat rushing to his cheeks as she proclaimed that she would be his friend.

"You don't have many friends, do you?"

Like the passing of a ghost, the warmth of the memory faded with the beginnings of the sky's drizzle. It slipped through his fingertips and piled at the ground beneath his feet – those trampled memories.

When he looked back, his hands were empty. There was no warmth – no wrist clasped in his grasp. He was laughing alone at a memory long gone.

Kohaku was right. He didn't have many friends. And now? Now he had none.

Being inside the classroom did nothing to cure his insatiable thirst for torment – rather it accelerated the influx of fuzzy recollections, imploding the weight of his regrets upon him.

She was right there – within a few feet of him – yet he could hardly utter a word. If he called out to her would she turn around? If he reached out for her would she care? If he appeased her or congratulated her or expressed his gratitude would she turn around and smile, embracing him with the same bone-crushing hug as before and beg him to tutor her or drag him along to the abyss of the flower fields to lay to rest?

The questions in his mind tortured him with their inklings of doubt.

He had asked himself many times why those recent events had transpired – why did he say the things he did, why did he get so riled up, why did he allow Satou to provoke him? When it really came down to it, the only thing he could conclude was that it was because of his own weakness.

It was because he was constantly under the control of others – a puppet upon several strings – petrified by the stares of the peanut gallery and unable to lift even a single digit. It was because he was weak-hearted and full of self-doubt – a boy who couldn't stand up for himself without some sort of validation or logical sense to his actions. It was because he knew nothing and the idea of seeming so close to Kohaku but actually being just as much of a stranger as anyone else frightened him, causing an unsettlement within the depths of his heart.

Yes, when Aoi really thought about it, it did come down to that. He had done wrong – more wrong than he could ever imagine. He had done so much wrong to the girl that he felt like coughing up his organs and offering his heart up on a silver platter, lined with the words "please take full revenge on my foolish soul" (though he doubted revenge was even a thing on the girl's mind). But it took two to tango, and for as much wrong as he had provided, Kohaku adequately met him halfway.

She claimed they were friends so shallowly, yet refused to tell him anything. She lied so sweetly, offering up silicon smiles as she promised that she would come to him with her problems and then masked the hurt with lame excuses of grandeur. She brought up questions with no answers – equations with missing variables - and expected him to solve them without any writing utensils.

Kohaku Yamashita had done Aoi wrong, and that was also a fact. For as shallow as Aoi's arsenic words were, her actions towards him were just as shallow. The whole ground they stood on was a giant sinkhole just waiting to cave in.

If Kohaku wasn't willing to try and Aoi wasn't willing to try. Then they weren't going anywhere.

They really weren't going anywhere.

He hadn't actually come to the realization that he was missing her until that moment – until he saw her face to face and his heart tingled with recognition, heating his veins with some sort of foreign solution.

Before, he had pinpointed the emotion as pain and hurt and possibly regret, but never a feeling as raw as "missing". And now, the realization, that he had indeed missed her smile and the touch of her hand, had finally penetrated his mind.

Her eyes were wide with surprise, her mouth hanging slightly agar, and her stature very tense and meek. Aoi figured she hadn't expected him to come to gardening club, it being something she decided on all on her own and kind of just forced him into, and honestly he wasn't sure why he was here either. If he knew that he had already burnt down the bridge then why was he attempting to walk on air without any safety net? Why was he seeking out an aftermath to a story that had already ended?

It didn't make any sense to him, and he figured it made even less sense to Kohaku after his previous spiel. But here he was – drunk off the confusion and elation within his heart.

Aoi opened his mouth to say something – anything – but he was completely unsure of what. Should he act casual? Should he play it off? Would it be cruel to do so?

"Uh." He cursed himself for being able to muster nothing more, but the sudden noise seemed to stir a reaction in the girl. As if broken from a trance, she jolted, glancing at him with a sort of recognition before quickly averting her attention to the ground. She grimaced, holding her arm close to her chest, gaze trailing between the different members of the club in a silent plea for help. Unfortunately, it seemed as though her message had gone unheard. Everyone remained still and just watched the scenes play out in a harrowing slow-motion.

Aoi stared at his toes long and hard. He could feel his face setting aflame. Once again, he had somehow done wrong. Where could he go from here?

"H-hey…" He managed from between pressed teeth, but before he could even find the will to form a whole sentence, Kohaku had ripped past him, shoulders bumping on the way out as if the action were meant to be a warning sign – a rough "Don't come after me. It's over."

Aoi's shoulders slumped in defeat. He messed up. There were no more chances. There were no pages in the book to fill and he couldn't add them on no matter how hard he tried. It was officially over and there was no use fighting it.

"See? This is why I can't stand idiot couples!" Aoi growled a hostile response to the indignant comment which, unsurprisingly, belonged to the pint-sized blonde first-year. She threw her hands behind her head, stretching her limbs out as if the tension had temporarily frozen all her joints.

"If you had something to say, you could have said it before." The boy grumbled, glaring daggers at her nonchalance.

Maemi rose a brow, "Why would I do that? It's not my problem."

How annoying.

Aoi almost wanted to lash out in irresponsible and rash anger, but his own depression and gloom kept all the frustration tucked deep inside. He had no words left in him – just petty conversation – and he figured fluffy mangled sentences would do him no good.

"Maemi, that's a little…" Keitaro's weak attempts to derail Maemi's ill manners were quickly shut down with a brash, "Oh my god. You're so annoying! Why do you always have to nag on everything I say?"

And Aoi could only smirk and think "Now who's the idiot couple?"

"Man, all this tension is messing up my vibe. I bet it's like suffocating the flowers or something." A third voice – that of the ever so burly Minoru - added to the conversation. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, eyeing Aoi through knit eyebrows. "I mean, I don't get it. Like if you dig her, why don't you just tell her? You're making this way too confusing."

It surprised Aoi slightly to know that the members could actually read the situation. It seemed unlikely that Kohaku, being as secretive as she was, would say anything or act any different than normal, for that matter (she was a good actress for the amount of faking that she did), and Aoi, sure as hell, would forever abstain from ever informing this bunch, so it was just weird to think that they could actually make some deductions of their own. With the exception of maybe Asuka (whom he suspected got her information from some form of dark arts because, despite being outlandish, she was probably more demon than human), he had taken the rest of them for a group of idiots.

Their was something comforting in knowing that they understood without him having to say anything, yet somehow, at the same time, it irritated the heck out of him.

"I don't 'dig' anyone." Aoi seethed through his teeth, enunciating the words as if to mock Minoru's colloquial tone.

"It's evident that being stubborn is only hurting you." The monotone pitch of the near-invisible Riku gave in its two-cents – two more cents than Aoi figured he wanted to hear. But want and need were two different things and to some degree, he knew that she was right. Not that that mattered considering how he had royally screwed himself over.

"Now now, fellow club members." Asuka clapped her hands together, "Let's not bully our new club members just because they're incompetent idiots who can't solve their own problems and seem to enjoy bringing their problems to our peaceful garden."

The smile on Asuka's face sent shivers down Aoi's spine. And the fact that she could say that all with such an expression? Even creepier.

"As president of this club, I believe that we should help our colleagues and guide them through their moronic issues. Now does anyone have anything constructive to say?"

"Personally," Maemi cleared her throat, hands on her hips in a cocky show of mock seniority. She approached Aoi and leaned in much too close, and Aoi definitely was not feeling her authoritative attitude. He frowned deeply. "I think that both of you need to grow a few brain cells."

"Brain cells don't grow."

"Shut up, I'm talking!" The girl lashed out before coughing into her fist in an attempt to compose herself. Aoi glanced around for support, but it seemed as though the others were totally disregarding her mistake – except for Keitaro who was cowering behind the idea of Maemi kicking out his shins.

"Personally, I think you need to man up." Maemi proclaimed. Aoi scoffed. "If you really care about her then you should do something. What kind of friend sits on their lazy but and just gives up like this? Like you've got to be the biggest loser I've ever met!"

"Maemi, that's really too much!" Keitaro jumped onto his feet, cupping a hand over the girl's mouth. He locked his grip around her wrist to ensure that he wouldn't be hit and offered Aoi a sheepish bow.

"Hyoudou-san. I-I don't think that you're wrong, but I don't think that Maemi is either. It's really hard to know what to do. I think that I know that best, but it's even worse to regret not having done something when you had the chance. U-um," Keitaro timidly scratched at his cheek, eyes cast downward. "I guess what I want to say is good luck? And uh…I hope everything works out?"

It was funny how Keitaro suddenly turned from invisible to the most level-headed of the group in Aoi's mindset and even more peculiar how everything he said made perfect sense. Aoi knew what regret felt like – he'd been feeling it for the past week, and he figured that's why the boy's words hit him so hard. That's why it instilled him with a feeling of action as if he'd just been slapped awake (that and Riku had literally slapped him when it came her turn to speak and told him to wake up and smell the flowers, to which Minoru laughed as though the pun was the funniest thing anyone had ever said).

He still wasn't completed decided. He still wasn't ready to get down on his hands and knees and apologize, but what Aoi had taken from the day was that he was nowhere near the end of their story. If there weren't any pages left in the book, then he could just make a sequel.

On the way home, Aoi had come to a single conclusion – that there was still a lot of thinking left for him to do.