A Cherry Blossom

A day of romance was what his name entailed. There’d be smiles and there’d be tears hidden behind them. There’d be chocolates of varying shapes and sizes, and there’d be petals of roses fluttering about. The celebration reflected him clearly. The depth of a gift tied up neatly with a crimson ribbon is present when one looks more clearly.

In a blink of an eye, you'd see how reckless he was past that exterior of his. His hands were big and calloused. With his towering frame, he gives off an impression of a capable person, a man of romance hidden behind diligence.

He’d groan and sigh at me, yet inside he’d be smiling brighter than mine could ever hope to be. I could see through him. It was a privilege only I had.

“What’s making you smile this time?” He noticed me grinning with my chin resting in both hands as he jotted down the lessons our teacher had left on the board keenly.

“Facial muscles,” I giggled, bobbing my head.

He let go of his to pen to rub his face, annoyance overtaking him. I chuckled even more. Yesterday I had tried to make him laugh or at the very least smirk from one of my jokes. I gave him ten of my best puns, yet he only grimaced at each one! I couldn’t make him smile, no pun in ten did!

With a tired sigh and an even more tired smile, he continued writing.

“I’m not going to let you borrow my notebook if you’re not planning on writing anything.” He spoke sternly.

“I already took pictures.” Shifting the weight of my head onto my left hand, I casually waved my phone with the other. He made a quick sound of disapproval.

“Hey! I needed focus to get those shots!” I covered my mouth, holding back my cackling causing Valentine to sigh once more.

He always gets them. I smiled sweetly at the thought. Jokes are always the best when you don’t have to explain them. Not that I would mind having to explain to him. That’s a joke in it’s on way.

He finished writing and crammed his stuff into his backpack. The leaves were rustling by the window where a tall tree stood, waving its branches where glints of sunlight passed through. Blinded by the light, I closed my eyes and for a moment I thought I had seen cherry blossoms floating all around as I opened them along with my mouth.

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

“I might have a shift for my part-time job in the morning since it’s a Saturday, why?”

“So, you’re free in the afternoon?”

“Probably. Why?” He was distrustful. He might be thinking that I’m planning something sneaky again.

One time I sent a package to his house with nothing but toilet paper and a note because I thought he was angry with me. “Here’s some rolling, please don’t be hating.” It turns out he was just busy with his job.

“No reason. It’s just that you looked so stressed, I thought certainly you’d be a part of the alphabet now.”

“Ives, please stop––”

“You’re always so B-C!” I’m sorry, not sorry.

I burst out laughing. You could tell he lost years off his lifespan with his reaction.

We left the school with him continuously sighing at the sight of me. It must be perplexing, to walk beside such a heavenly being with looks befitting that of a goddess on a daily basis. I patted Valentine on the back with an expression of understanding.

“In case you were wondering––”

“I’m really not.”

“––I’m also free tomorrow, too!”

“And?”

“It’s a weekend and I’ll have nothing to do!”

“Homework?”

“I do that on Monday mornings.”

He looked skeptically at me as I gave him my best impression of a puppy, my chin placed atop my knuckles as we walked. My gaze did not waver as I stared at him intently.

“Fine.”

“Yes!” I shouted, raising my fists in victory.

“What’s that?” He asked, referring to the small notebook I took out.

I showed him the cover, a silhouette of a little girl standing below a sakura tree.

“It’s my logbook!”

Never had I seen regret more evident on a man’s face than on Valentine’s. I giggled at what I had scribbled down.

‘Be a citrus fruit tomorrow! Get some pickup limes!’