The movie had ended quite some time ago but the credits were still rolling up the screen. You could hardly make out the white shapes as they moved across and blinked your heavy eyelids sleepily. Small tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you yawned, sitting up and stretching. The walk to your room was uneventful, save for the constant yapping of your small dog as it threaded around your feet, and you kicked open the door. From there, you stripped of your clothes and replaced them with your pajamas.
As you fell onto the bed carelessly, your face met the oddly shaped plastic of a hanger. You lifted your head up again and, after a few minutes of deductive reasoning, concluded that your newly dry-cleaned tennis uniform had yet to be hanged in the closet. You thought about just leaving it out; then again, your mom would most likely strangle you personally if it got wrinkled.
The hanger’s glossy turquoise coloring seemed to mock you as you brought it over to the closet. You reached for the handle to slide the door open, only to stop at the sudden shuffling sounds coming from the other side. The uniform was dropped to the floor as you ran to the corner of your room to retrieve your special aluminum racket. Approaching the door at a more cautious pace, you reached once more for the knob, hand shaking slightly in fear.
Your hand touched the cool metal and you swallowed before throwing it open. The racket stopped millimeters from crashing down onto Yukimura Seiichi’s pretty face. He blinked owlishly at you then laughed sheepishly at your flat-slash-exhausted look.
“Hello, (Name)-chan,” he greeted nervously.
You blinked at him once, tossing the racket across the room as you fell back on your bed and replied, “So, I guess this means we’re breaking-up?”
“Huh?” He stopped in his progression towards you, regarding you with a frown.
“You’re coming out of the closet, right?”