by: DogeBonk

English Version

The city of Tokyo was draped in the soft hues of Valentine's Day, a celebration of love that seemed to mock Boy-A's solitude. As he walked through the bustling Shibuya crossing, the melody of "Pretender", a favorite song of his, played through his earbuds, an anthem to his unvoiced love. Boy-A's eyes were on the world, but his heart was elsewhere, with Girl-B, the girl who worked at the quaint café on the corner of his street.

Each day, he watched her from the window of his favorite bookstore across the street, her laughter a melody more enchanting than any song on his playlist. He was nothing more than a spectator, a pretender in the grand narrative of her life, living through the brief, stolen moments when her gaze would accidentally meet his.

Boy-A had known Girl-B for years, their interactions limited to polite nods and brief conversations about coffee and literature. He had memorized her preferences—her love for jazz music, her habit of tucking her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. But his affection was a silent symphony, played only in the confines of his heart.

As Valentine's Day approached, the city was alight with the promise of confessions and chocolates. Boy-A felt the pressure of the day, what was once his favorite tunes, echoes his fears and desires. He was torn between the comfort of his silent love and the terror of rejection. He imagined walking into the café, handing Girl-B a chocolate, his heart laid bare, but the lyrics of the song always pulled him back into the shadows, reminding him of his pretender's role.

The day arrived, crisp and clear, the sky the color of Girl-B's favorite scarf. Boy-A stood outside the café, watching as Girl-B handed out chocolates to her colleagues and regular customers. His heart ached with every smile she gave that wasn't for him. He had a chocolate in his pocket, wrapped in simple paper, a symbol of his unvoiced love.

He stepped closer to the entrance but paused, his courage faltering under the weight of what could be. The song played in his mind, a reminder of all the times he had pretended not to care, not to feel. He watched as Girl-B laughed, her joy a stark contrast to his internal turmoil. He turned away, the chocolate still in his pocket, his love once again unconfessed.

Years passed, and the café changed hands, but Boy-A's routine did not. He still visited, now more as a tribute to the love he never voiced rather than hope for something more. Girl-B had moved on, perhaps to another city, another life, but she remained in Boy-A's heart, a ghost of what could have been. He still often listened to his favorite songs—which has become a bittersweet anthem to his regret.

He pondered over what might have been if he had just stepped forward, if he had spoken out. The regret was palpable, a heavy stone in his chest, yet he couldn't bring himself to let go. To release his love would mean to erase a part of himself, a part that had lived for Girl-B, even if from afar.