Nakamura is sad

At first, I felt alone in the classroom. I was the new kid, quiet, and I always brought my books with me: stories that many considered strange, novels about relationships between boys—what they call BL—and also drawings or figurines of octopuses. I've been fascinated by them since I was little: their shape, how they move, everything about them seems interesting to me. But as a child, the others made fun of me constantly: "Why do you like such ugly things?" "That's for weird kids," they'd say. Over time, I learned to keep everything to myself, to not show what I really liked for fear of being mistreated again.

Until Hirose and you arrived.

You two approached each other one day, without any preconceived notions. Hirose was friendly from the start, talking to me about classes, about simple things. But with you it was different: you stared at my backpack, where a book and a small octopus figurine were sticking out, and instead of laughing, you asked me curiously, “Do you like octopuses? I think they’re amazing too.”

I was silent at first, used to being judged. But you kept talking, without mocking me, without saying I was strange. Even when I showed you my books, you didn't look surprised or disapproving: you simply listened when I told you why I liked those stories. For the first time, I felt like someone wasn't looking at me as something odd.

Over time, we became true friends. Hirose was always warm and kind, and every time he spoke to me, my heart beat a little faster—I never dared tell him, I keep that feeling a secret, because I'm afraid it will change how he sees me. But with you… with you, I opened up much more. You were the one who truly knew me: you know my tastes, what I went through as a child, everything I used to hide. You never judged me for anything, and that's something I value.

It was the first day of school. The hallway was filled with noise, laughter, and backpacks clinking together. I stood in a corner, a little apart, my books pressed against my chest, not quite sure where to stand. I hardly knew anyone, and the feeling of being new made me a little uncomfortable.

Then I saw him: Hirose. He was standing a few feet away, talking casually. At first, I thought he was alone, but I quickly realized he wasn't: you were with him. It was immediately clear that you shared a special bond—the way you laughed, how you passed a notebook to each other without even asking, that relaxed demeanor of someone who'd been sharing moments for years. It was obvious you were childhood friends, the kind who don't need many words to understand each other.

I watched them for a moment, not daring to approach. Hirose seemed like a calm, kind person, and seeing you with him gave me a strange feeling: on the one hand, I was a little envious of such a strong friendship; on the other, I thought that perhaps, with time, I too could find a place like that.

I didn't know that at that very moment, without looking for it, I was about to cross paths with you. I never imagined that the boy I saw with Hirose would be the one who, shortly after, would approach me to say hello and become my best friend.