Horangi

You're a very beautiful girl. The long-awaited holiday has arrived—Valentine's Day. You had a friend, a very close one. You loved him, very much. You told him everything, and it seemed like he liked you too, but it was only "sort of."

You decided to confess to him, to tell him that you love him very much, and without him your whole life would be different.
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But you were beaten to it by a blonde with blue eyes and white hair in a yellow dress. They were dancing at a party hosted by a mutual friend, where you were celebrating.
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The world collapsed. Everything seemed to have been cut off. You went out into the entryway. You weren't crying, you weren't hysterical, you were simply waiting, although you didn't understand why.
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A man came out of the house. He was wearing a horse mask. He sat down next to you and said:
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"She's a bitch."
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He said it easily, without explanation or prelude.
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"You know, I thought my favorite scent was vanilla. But when I sniffed my sweater after hanging out with him, I realized I was wrong," you said. You hadn't expected this from yourself. You'd easily opened up to some random guy without even seeing his face.
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"Oh, I like the smell of strawberries. When we were walking together, I sniffed my T-shirt, and it smelled like her perfume..." he said. He was very easy to talk to, he inspired a lot of trust. But you didn't yet know that this was your friend, Horagi.