Myths About Love Is The Key

Takeshi-san... I love you."

The words hung in the air, spoken in a soft, hesitant voice. My eyes snapped open, a cold sweat clinging to my skin. Not again. This was getting ridiculous. The same dream, the 18th time. A confession, a kiss, and then I wake up with my heart pounding like a drum solo. And the worst part? It was always with some guy I didn't even know—a complete stranger.

Cringggg

The jarring shriek of my alarm clock finally shut the dream down. I slammed my fist on the snooze button, the metal groaning in protest. Do people really buy into that myth about dream kisses and destined soulmates? I sure as hell didn't—or at least, I hadn't. But lately, these dreams were making me question everything. It felt like some cosmic joke was being played on me. And for what?

Dragging myself out of bed, I trudged downstairs. The house was silent and empty, as usual. My parents were already gone, leaving behind the usual breakfast—plates under cling wrap and a note reminding me to heat up the food. I crumpled the note and tossed it on the counter. A quick glance at the clock told me I was running late. Again.

Right, where was I? Oh yeah, Kobayashi Takeshi, 18, senior, and apparently, according to the rumor mill, I have 'intense' eyes and 'kissable' lips. Whatever that means. I'm tall, I guess—189 cm—and not exactly skinny. But who cares about all that? I'd rather be known for my killer parkour skills or my ability to prank anyone, anytime, anywhere, not the shape of my nose. Girls seem to like me well enough. I've had my share of girlfriends—more than I care to count—but things never seem to work out. They complimented me on my looks and bragged about my skills in bed, which made me feel a little disgusted, to be honest. What is the point of having sex if I don't even like the person? I mean, don't get me wrong, I enjoy sex, but maybe I'm just looking for something more, something real. Someone who sees past the looks and the, ahem, sizeable assets. Someone who'll like me, flaws and all. I know, it's a bit much coming from a guy who likes to prank people and always gets into trouble. But hey, even I have a serious side. And these damn dreams are starting to get to me.

Clang!

The school gate slammed shut, jolting me back to reality. I was late, and my first class was about to start. No time to waste. I took a running leap, scaling the wall with a practiced ease—parkour had its perks, especially when you're always late. I landed on the other side, slightly out of breath but relieved.

The school grounds were a familiar blur of activity. Third year, and I knew this place like the back of my hand. But today, something felt different. A strange tension hung in the air, a sense of anticipation.

I navigated the crowded hallways, my height making me stand out. Girls offered shy smiles and whispered greetings. I nodded back, but my mind was elsewhere. A nagging feeling tugged at me, a premonition that things were about to change. Yeah, right.

The classroom was already buzzing when I walked in. Familiar faces glanced up, some friendly, some indifferent. Takahashi Takumi, one of my best friends, waved me over. His dark brown hair was perpetually messy, always falling into his eyes. Beside him, Ishikawa Yuto, never seen without his signature cap, offered a smirk.

"Yo, Takeshi! Saved you a seat," Takumi called out.

I joined them, sliding into the empty chair. The teacher entered, a tall man in his mid-thirties with sharp eyes behind his glasses. "Good morning, class," he said, his voice calm but commanding. "I am Matsumoto Renji, your class advisor." Polite greetings echoed around the room. "Before we start, let's rearrange the seating."

A collective groan rippled through the class. Matsumoto-sensei began calling out names, assigning new spots. My turn came. "At the last row, Kobayashi Takeshi and... Fujimoto Haruto."

Fujimoto Haruto? The name didn't ring a bell. New kid, maybe? Transfer student? Either way, I wasn't thrilled about being stuck with a stranger.

I made my way to the back, taking the seat by the window. As I settled in, I noticed the guy next to me for the first time. He was shorter than me, with light brown hair that caught the sunlight. He was pale, almost translucent, and skinny—the kind of guy who looked like he skipped meals. He wore a worn-out uniform, and his fingers, as he adjusted his glasses, were surprisingly calloused, like he worked with his hands. His glasses reflected the light, making it hard to see his eyes. He was quiet, almost unnervingly so. As the lesson droned on, I felt a strange prickling sensation, like I was being watched.

Maybe he's just nervous, I thought, trying to shake off the feeling. New kid and all. But something about the way he sat, hunched over with his shoulders tense, made me think it was more than just first-day jitters.

The classroom was getting stuffy, so I shoved the window open with more force than necessary. A gust of wind swept in, carrying dust that swirled and fogged up the lenses of the guy next to me. He flinched slightly, a flicker of fear crossing his face before he quickly schooled his expression. He let out a small sigh and reached up to clean his glasses. And that's when it hit me.

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat. His features were suddenly clear: the light brown hair, those hazel eyes, the soft curve of his lips... A jolt, like an electric shock, ran through me. "Wh... Why are you here?" I blurted out, the words escaping before I could stop them.

Matsumoto-sensei's head snapped towards me, his expression stern. "Kobayashi-kun, is there a problem?"

My face burned. "Sorry, Sensei. Didn't mean to," I mumbled, my gaze dropping to the floor, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

The teacher gave me a disapproving look but sighed before moving on.

I turned back to the person beside me—Fujimoto Haruto. His expression was a mixture of confusion and mild irritation. His eyes, now visible behind his clean glasses, seemed distant, yet there was something about them that made me profoundly uneasy.

I swallowed hard, my mind reeling. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a coincidence. But the more I looked at him, the more certain I became. It was him. The guy from my dreams.

The same guy who'd been haunting my sleep for weeks, confessing his love in that soft, hesitant voice. The guy I'd kissed in every single dream, only to wake up in a cold sweat, feeling utterly mortified.

Cringeworthy.

And now, here he was, sitting right beside me in the flesh.

The bell rang, a welcome interruption to my spiraling thoughts. Break time. I practically bolted out of my seat, needing to escape.

"What was that about?" Takumi asked, falling into step beside me, his eyes full of curiosity.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Remember those nightmares I told you about?"

"Yeah, the one where you're making out with some dude," Yuto chimed in, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Don't tell me..." Takumi's eyes widened in realization.

I nodded grimly. "It's him. The guy from my dreams."

They burst out laughing, teasing me relentlessly. I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. "Shut up, will you?" I muttered, kicking a stray pebble down the hallway.

They paused their teasing, exchanging a look. "Since elementary school," Yuto said, his tone surprisingly serious. "He's always been here. Just... quiet. Keeps to himself. You probably never noticed him."

Elementary school? So, I've been around this guy for years, and I didn't even know it? This was getting weirder by the minute. And now, I was stuck sitting next to him in class. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process it all.

"So, he's a loner, then?" I asked, hoping for an easy way to avoid him.

"Not exactly," Yuto corrected. "He has friends, just not here. Most of them are in Class B and C. Not exactly the popular crowd."

Relieved to know I can avoid him easily, I thought to myself, rolling my eyes. I don't want anything to do with someone who fills my dreams with nightmares.

"But how do you know his friends, Yuto?" Takumi asked, his curiosity piqued.

Yuto shrugged. "I accidentally saw them at the café where I work part-time. They're regular customers, so I've gotten to know them a bit."

The bell rang again, signaling the start of class. I dragged my feet back to the classroom, my mood souring with each step.

As I entered the classroom, I saw Haruto slumped over his desk, already asleep. His hair was a mess, and his pale skin looked even more washed out than before. He probably hadn't even gone to the canteen. Just slept through the entire break. Figures.

My jaw clenched, and I had to resist the urge to kick his chair again. I walked past him, giving his desk a not-so-gentle kick, sending it sliding forward a few inches. "Hey. Wake up. Class is starting," I said, my voice sharper than intended.

He startled, his eyes widening with a flicker of fear before he quickly masked it. He slowly sat up and adjusted his glasses. He blinked, those hazel eyes focusing slowly, and for a second, I saw a flash of something there—annoyance? Resignation? Hurt? It was gone before I could decipher it. "Thank you... for waking me up," he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.

There was something about his timidness that grated on my nerves. I wanted to snap at him again, but the teacher walked in, effectively ending any chance of that. The class was the usual monotonous drone. I tried to focus, but Haruto's presence beside me was a constant distraction. Every little movement, every shift in his seat, felt amplified.

When the bell finally rang, I packed up my things as fast as I could. I needed to get out of there, clear my head. Yuto's café seemed like the perfect escape. I glanced back at Haruto before leaving. He was still at his desk, already looking like he was about to doze off again.

What is wrong with him? I thought, my hand balling into a fist. If he's that tired, he should just go home. As I turned to leave, I overheard two students whispering behind me.

"Look at Fujimoto, sleeping again. He's such a weirdo."

"Yeah, that guy always acts like he's better than everyone else, but his grades are just average."

Their laughter was like nails on a chalkboard. I hated gossip, especially when it was about someone they clearly didn't know. My hand balled into a fist, and before I knew it, I kicked the door hard enough to make it slam against the wall. The laughter stopped abruptly as I left the classroom, not bothering to glance back.

I headed towards the school gates, hoping to make a quick escape, only to be met with an unwelcome sight. Tanaka Miki, one of my ex-girlfriends, was leaning against the gate, arms crossed, her bubblegum popping obnoxiously, clearly waiting for me. I groaned inwardly.

"Takeshi-kun, wait for me!" she called out, running up to me and latching onto my arm the moment she saw me.

"What do you want, Miki?" I asked, my voice flat. She pouted, her big eyes trying to work their usual charm. "You're so mean to me, Takeshi-kun," she whined, pressing herself closer. The feel of her chest against my arm made my skin crawl.

"Can you let go of me?" I asked, trying to pry her off.

She just giggled and tightened her grip. "You can try to push me away, but I'll keep clinging to you. I'll get you back, Takeshi-kun," she said, her voice dripping with confidence as she stroked my cheek. "You know you won't find anyone who can put up with you like I do."

I rolled my eyes and started walking, practically dragging her along until we reached the café. The café was a welcome sight. I spotted Yuto behind the counter, chatting with a customer. He was actually smiling—a genuine, soft smile that I rarely saw. The guy he was talking to was wearing our school uniform. He had jet-black hair with a bluish sheen and big, round eyes that made him look like a puppy. He was slender, but not scrawny like Haruto.

Curious, but not wanting to interrupt, I sat down at an empty table, Miki still glued to my side. I called out to Yuto, effectively breaking his conversation. He glanced at me, his smile vanishing instantly, replaced by his usual stoic expression.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone flat.

"Came to clear my head," I replied. His gaze flickered to Miki, and his frown deepened.

Miki leaned in closer to me, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. "Oh, Yuto-kun. You haven't changed a bit," she said, her words laced with mockery.

Yuto ignored her, but our conversation was cut short by the sound of shattering glass. Everyone turned to see the guy Yuto had been talking to standing frozen, his hands trembling.

"Aki-kun, are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Yuto rushed over, his voice filled with concern. He started checking the boy for injuries, his worry evident.

"I'm sorry, Yuto-san," the boy—Aki—mumbled, tears welling up in his eyes.

Yuto gently patted his head. "It's okay, Aki-kun. Don't worry about the glass. Just make sure you're not hurt."

This was a side of Yuto I'd never seen before. He was usually so reserved, almost cold.

As Yuto cleaned up the mess, I saw Haruto walk into the café. Of course. Just my luck. He glanced at me for a split second, his eyes filled with a strange mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher, before heading straight to the boy Yuto was comforting. So they knew each other. That explained a lot.

My annoyance reached its peak. I stood up abruptly, grabbing my bag. I glared at Haruto, feeling a strange mix of anger and frustration bubbling up inside me. Without thinking, I slammed my fist on the table, making the remaining glasses rattle. "I'm outta here," I growled, storming out of the café.

The cool air hit me like a slap, and I shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to calm down. Why was I so worked up? It was just a dream, and Haruto was just some quiet kid from my class. But something about him – his presence, his eyes, the way he looked at Yuto – it was all getting under my skin.

And then it hit me. That flicker of fear when I woke him up in class... the way he flinched when the window slammed open... was it just me, or was there something more behind those guarded eyes? Had he recognized me? Did he have the same dream?

The thought sent a shiver down my spine. It was absurd, impossible. But the way he looked at me... it was like he knew something I didn't. Like he was holding back a secret.

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts. Get a grip, Takeshi, I told myself. It's just a dream. It doesn't mean anything.

But even as I told myself that, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change. Something big. And somehow, I knew that Fujimoto Haruto was at the center of it all.

This is going to be a long year, I thought, quickening my pace as I headed down the street, the image of Haruto's face burned into my mind.