The Ending I Wanted

When I returned home that evening, I decided to follow Iwasaki's suggestion. I headed up to my room, sat down at my desk and grabbed a few sheets of paper and a pen. Normally when I'd write something, I liked to type it up on my phone where everything was all stored safely in one place. What I planned to write today though, was merely a way for me to process everything that had happened lately. It wasn't one I'd want to keep after I was done with it. So instead, I decided to just write this out by hand.

I started out by jotting down bullet points.

Iwasaki.

Nakamura.

I tried listing down each of their good points, hoping it would make things clearer, but it all felt too superficial, too emotionless. I wasn't going to come up with an answer like this.

I groaned, and crumpled up the page, throwing into the wastebin. I picked up a fresh sheet of paper and started again. This time, I thought back to the particular moments I had spent with each of them; studying with Nakamura, shopping with Iwasaki, the events of the school festival. I wrote down each of these as if they were just another one of my stories. I wrote about the protagonist's feelings towards each of them, how they had both helped him to grow in different ways.

As I continued to write, I realised that if I changed this here, added that scene in between there, a rough outline of a new short story was starting to form. I still wasn't quite sure of my answer yet, but I had a good feeling that seeing this through would help me reach the ending that I truly wanted.

It took me the better half of a week before I had completed it. I had changed up a lot of the finer details, enough that most people wouldn't see it as anything other than fiction. Only the ones involved would be able to read between the lines as to what the story was actually about. The connection the protagonist had towards the two heroines - which I had changed to a pair of close sisters - was how I genuinely felt.

I had my answer.

All that was left was to talk to the two girls that the story was based on. I wondered who I should go to first, Iwasaki or Nakamura. After much deliberation, I figured it was probably best to just rip the band-aid off and get it over with quickly.

That settled it then, Nakamura was first.

The only issue was that Nakamura was still dead set on avoiding me. If I tried to speak with her directly, I knew that she wouldn't even stop to give me the time of day. There had to be some way to get her to listen to me.

Before Nakamura arrived in class that morning, I hastily scribbled down a note onto a scrap of paper, and left it on her desk where she was bound to see it.

‘There's something important I need to say. Even if it's for one last time, could we meet up in our old spot?’

Now all I could do was wait. There was always the chance that she would see my note and disregard it. I hoped that wouldn't be the case. When Nakamura sat down, she spotted the note and glanced over her shoulder at me. Her eyes locked with mine for just a second, before she sharply turned back towards the front. The message had been received, now it was down to her whether she followed through with it.

***

I was sitting at the table at the back of the library, hidden away behind shelves of books. It felt strange to be sitting here alone. All the memories I had of this spot were times I had been here with Nakamura. Depending on how today went, this could be the last time I came here. I looked up at the clock on the wall, she still hadn't shown up yet.

…Five minutes passed.

…Ten minutes.

…Fifteen.

She wasn't coming. Of course she wasn't. She had never agreed to, but I had still hoped that she was going to come. I let out a disappointed sigh and got up to leave. I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and turned the corner round the bookshelf.

There, standing quietly by the entrance, was Nakamura.

"You came, after all," I said quietly.

"Yeah.”

I couldn't tell what she was thinking. Even now, she still continued to avoid looking at me. We didn't say anything as we made our way back over to our little hideaway. It wasn't until we were both seated when Nakamura finally spoke up.

"How's things with Chizuru?"

Her voice was low, almost monotone. She looked as if she didn't really want to know the answer.

“I managed to speak with her the other day,” I answered truthfully, “we were able to work things out.”

“Oh. I'm glad to hear that.”

She didn't look all that glad to me.

“So, what is it you needed me for?” She asked, changing the subject.

Ah, she wanted to get right to the heart of the matter, then. I suppose there was no real point in prolonging it.

"We had made an arrangement," I began, and she looked at me quizzically, "you said that in exchange for helping me grow closer with Iwasaki, you wanted to read my stories."

I pulled out a small stack of paper from my bag, and laid them neatly on the table between us.

"Well, I've finished my latest one. And I'd like you to read it," I continued.

"Wait," she looked at me, confused, "that's why you brang me here?"

I nodded, pushing the manuscript a touch closer towards her.

"Fine, fine," she relented, reaching over to grab it from me.

Nakamura shuffled in her seat until she was comfortable, then lowered her head and began to read. She was silent for a few minutes until she looked up, furrowing her brow.

“You're trying something new? I don't think I've seen you write a romance before.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “it's all pretty new to me.”

She turned her attention back to the page and continued reading.

“T-this is…?”

The sudden surprise in her eyes told me that she had figured out what the story actually was. I wondered which part had made her catch on. She read on. Maybe I was imagining it, but she seemed to be pushing forward with a new sense of urgency.

Some time later, she finally reached the end. She was trembling as she turned back to me, her fingers refusing to let go of the last page.

“W-what is this, it's about us?”

“Yeah. I was struggling to figure out how I felt. Iwasaki gave me the idea to write about it until I could come to a conclusion.”

“And…this is the conclusion you came to?”

“It is.”

Nakamura leapt up suddenly, slamming her hands on the table.

“I don't get it, why me?”

“Isn't it obvious? It's because I like you, Nakamura!”

I rose up out of my seat to meet her at eye level. For the first time in so long, she was facing up to me, and not trying to look away. The look on her face was one I'd never seen her make before. Her lips quivered while her eyes locked with mine in an intense stare.

“Don't say that, please just don't…”

A couple of students peered around the corner to investigate the commotion. We quickly apologised and quietly returned to our seats. Once the onlookers had disappeared, Nakamura continued, this time in a hushed voice.

“What about Chizuru?”

“When we spoke, she told me that I had to make the choice that I wouldn't regret. I did like Iwasaki, but she wasn't the one who helped me to grow, or the one who was there to comfort me when I was upset. You're the one who has always supported me, Nakamura. You've been by my side through all the good and the bad. It’s always been you, I just wish I had realised that sooner.”

Nakamura made a grab for the manuscript that was still on the table in front of her, lifting it up to her face in an attempt to hide the sudden blush that had risen up in her cheeks.

“T-this story,” she said, “why isn't it finished? It cuts off right as the protagonist confesses his feelings.”

“Because I don't know how the story ends yet. I still don't know what the heroine's answer is.”

Nakamura remained silent.

"I'm sorry if this is all too much, too soon," I rubbed the back of my neck unconsciously, "you don't need to answer me right away. Just… take some time and think about it."

I got up to leave. I had said what I had come to say. I imagined that Nakamura would need time to process all this, just like I had done. But instead, she reached over and took hold of my hand to stop me.

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Okay?" I repeated back to her, wanting to make sure I fully understood what she was saying.

“I'm saying yes, you idiot. I like you too.”

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I couldn't help but smile. She was right, I was an idiot. The happiest idiot in the world.