Chapter 6: Ability Six: Making Someone Appreciative

The world was soft when I opened my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ishi—"

But he wasn't anywhere closer.

My organs told me to panic, to raise my guard right away, but I didn't.

I shifted my gaze beneath me. A white blanket is covering me. Light filtered through the curtains in pale gold.

For a second, I forgot where I was—until I felt the texture of cotton sheets under my hand and the lingering scent of him in the room.

"...his scent is unique."

I blinked, and the ceiling came into focus.

My limbs were sore, but not unbearably so. The lack of rest made my head feel light, but I don't mind.

There are times that I am awake for multiple days, immersed in work, so I'm used to it.

And I'll keep doing it because I'm afraid that...

...Ishida-san would hate me.

He tried to send me away last night, but I couldn’t. Not now. Not when he saved me. I owe him that much.

So I'm going to save him even though it would cost me everything.

So, yes. I won't turn my back, and I'll do everything he expects of me.

I sat up slowly, the sheets sliding off my shoulders. I need to think of some ways to make up with him.

"..."

I observed his room and comparing it to the first time I went in here, I can say that it was chaotic.

Grimy laundry and soda cans spread throughout the floor, along with plastic containers and banana peels haphazardly placed on the hallway.

Messy was an understatement. The apartment also reeked of foul odor.

It's still far from being perfect, but a few fixes on furniture and wall paints could make it look cleaner.

But I made sure that his room was flawless and quiet. Too quiet.

He wasn’t here, on his own sanctuary.

But something was.

A plastic bag sat on his study table. My eyes went wide the moment I recognized the bright label on the side.

"Convenience store?"

I slipped off the bed, took the plastic bag, and I peeked inside.

"Ehhhhhh?!"

I quicky snatched the containers and rolled on all sides of the bed.

"Strawberry parfaits!!!"

The containers glinted in my palms like lost treasures.

My heart jolted in excitement as it started leaping like a rabbit against my chest.

“Did he pick this on random…or he…”

Only a few people I definitely trust knew about my favorite food. And by eating parfaits, it heals my inner child.

What's in front of me were three strawberry parfaits.

Not one. Not two. Three.

This gesture…

It loosened the knots inside me.

Warmed me from the inside out.

I pulled one of the parfaits out and peeled off the lid. The creamy top glistened in the afternoon light, and I dipped the spoon gently, letting it carry a piece of the red syrup and whipped cream to my tongue.

"!!!"

Soft, sweet and familiar—it was the best.

I started munching and within a minute, I already took down two.

I closed my eyes as I chewed, letting the textures melt against my mouth like a memory I didn’t know I was allowed to have. Like I was allowed to enjoy something without fear, without guilt. It was a dream to eat this dessert for years.

People only kept me around when I was useful. The moment I stopped, they stopped needing me.

For once, I didn’t feel like I had to earn this.

I feel so much joy.

I hugged one of his pillows and started rolling on the bed once again.

“Ishida-san is…so mesmerizing…”

Eh?

What...?

What did I just say?

I pressed one hand against my mouth. I can feel my cheeks and ears burning from embarrassment.

Then it came.

“AHHHHHHHH!”

I threw my face against his pillow, lashing out a muffled scream as if it was something that can steady me, or at least untangle the feelings I am feeling at this moment.

I stomped the bed feverishly, and his leftover scent from the pillow amplifying the gnawing feeling inside of me.

“No way! There's no way I said it!”

I softly threw the pillow away, and beneath it, a paper, folded twice.

Curious, I picked it up.

“Is this…from him?”

A plain sheet. Ishida-san's handwriting. Neat, but slightly messy near the edges like he wasn’t sure about each word as he wrote them.

“This better not be a goodbye letter…”

I squinted.

[ Ayase,

I’m not good with words, so I’ll write them down and hope it’s enough.

Last night—no, everything before last night—I was wrong. You didn’t deserve any of it.

I'm just confused. Maybe I'm a little tired. I kept pushing you away like your kindness was some kind of threat. Like if I let it in, I’d lose everything that kept me moving.

Thank you for breakfast. Thank you for last night. Thank you for being here. I brought strawberry parfait for you because your hair resembled like one. I hope you'll like it.

You care too much. You work too hard. You’ve been through too much already.

You don’t have to carry my pain too.

But if you ever still want to, I hope you'll be patient and tolerant with me.

I’ll try to be someone worth staying for.

—Haruki Ishida ]

My fingers trembled slightly as I reached the end. The parfait in my other hand had started to melt.

Something inside me—something small, and glowing—began to shift.

Not just the relief of knowing he didn’t hate me. Not just the warmth of being seen.

This was different.

A pull in my chest. A soft ache.

Something warm that bloomed like spring beneath ribs that had only known winter.

Was it hope? Affection?

I dropped the letter.

And pressed one hand on my chest.

It's hot…

“…No way.”

It wasn’t just that I was hooked on him. It wasn’t admiration. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t even gratitude.

It was…something I didn’t have a name for.

But I felt it, strong and stubborn, curling around my heart like a quiet promise.

The moments with him, from the plain ones to the best ones started reeling fresh.

Maybe I was still too afraid to call it what it was.

But I knew this much—

He cared.

And now, so did I.