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It begins as a sort of joke to himself.
Akira Kurusu knows exactly what kind of reputation he walks into the halls of Shujin Academy with. He’s always been keen and observant—sharp ears and sharper eyes. He didn’t even really need glasses! He wore them in an attempt to seem less threatening. Hell of a lot that did for him. So, he’d given up on the magic of the glasses and found a tattoo parlour sketchy enough to punch fifteen piercings into a seventeen-year-old kid’s ears and face. The piercings are more his speed anyway.
So yes, he does approach Student Council President Makoto Niijima with an ulterior motive. With the teachers making a fuss about the uppity upperclassman, he figures he would get straight to the point. Strike some fear or something close to that into the heart of the snobby student council president. Then maybe she would leave him alone. He needs someone to get off his fucking case.
But when he gets to the library, the room goes dead silent at his entrance, and yet the student council president barely looks up. For someone that has a reputation of being an eagle-eyed stickler for the rules, she seems to be tuning out the gossipy whispers of their fellow students.
He finds out why as he lurks among the bookshelves: while his arrival at Shujin brought with him an infamous reputation and something for the student body to talk about, Makoto Niijima has long been the target of the vicious student gossip.
There she is: the robot student body president. The semester has barely started and she’s already studying?
What did you expect? She doesn’t have anything going for her except her grades.
There are all types of opinions about the pretty student council president, but all of them cluster around one thought: she clings desperately to books and rules because she has nothing else.
Strangely, this thought resonates with Akira. He, of all people, can relate to feeling alone in the world, held up by a single aspect of one’s own identity.
And so, he makes a conscious effort to soften his expression when he approaches her table. He is aware of the eyes of his fellow students on his back and the long shadow his tall form casts on her table. When she doesn’t look up, he clears his throat and speaks.
“Excuse me.”
She finally glances up and her eyes are a surprisingly lovely shade of red. Her chestnut brown hair curls slightly to frame her face and her features are small, delicate, and pretty. Her lips are parted in surprise.
“Can I share this table with you?” He gestures vaguely at the room around them. “I don’t think I can sit at any of the other tables.” This too, is another silly joke to himself—of course there are plenty of other tables open at the library. The semester has only just started. But he wonders if she will say anything.
“Oh, I…” She looks surprised but begins to gather her scatter of books and notes. “Yes. Um. Please give me a moment.”
If Akira thinks that he hears a lot of whispers about himself when he’s walking down the hall, it is nothing next to the cacophony of voices that erupt at the sight of the school delinquent with the student council president.
“That’s him, right?”
“Don’t make eye contact–he might stab you! I heard he carries around a knife.”
“Is it true that he has a face full of piercings? I don’t see anything.”
“Kawakami-sensei made him take them out. I overheard her tell Hiruta-sensei about it.”
Akira doesn’t bother lifting his gaze from the table. At this point, he is used to letting the bullshit roll off his back. He is here with a goal in mind, and some stupid whispers would not dissuade him from his mission.
When the desk is cleared, he slides into the seat diagonally across from her. The moment she puts her head down, the gossip picks up again.
“Niijima-senpai is so brave! I heard he murdered a man!”
“Well, you know her, she would do anything for a letter of recommendation. She’ll probably offer to tutor him or something because it looks good on her university applications.”
Akira almost laughs out loud at the new and strange direction the school gossip has taken. He wonders if the gossipers would be so brave if he even looked in their direction. But before he can do so, the student council president clears her throat and looks directly at the gossiping students.
Ah, he marvels, she does have a limit.
She glances over at him and he doesn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t watching her. He wonders what her limits are. There seems to be more to her than her reputation suggests.
That sounds familiar, he thinks sardonically with a hint of a smile.
When she breaks their eye contact, the tips of her ears are pink.
He continues to study her as she tries to get back into her rhythm of studying. Despite the critical words of the other students, the student council president doesn’t seem robotic at all. In fact, her pink blush when she catches him looking at her is exceptionally human. And…dare he say it…cute.
The thought catches him off guard. He’d expected a cold hardass. Unsympathetic and unyielding. Makoto Niijima seems to be none of the above.
When she packs up to leave, he can’t help but tease her.
“Are you done already, Niijima-san?”
She frowns. “How did you—?”
Akira raises his brow. “Your reputation precedes you, Miss President.”
“Oh.” This seems to align with her expectations. “Yes, I was only reviewing anyway.” She glances down at his blank notebook. “Good luck with your work.”
They both know that he has done absolutely no work in the last little while. But she doesn’t seem to be afraid of him the way the other students at school are, so he can’t help but push it. He tilts his head to the side, exposing the array of piercings in his ears.
“Are those—”
He quickly hides his ears and brings a finger to his lips. He leans forward and, to his delight, she draws closer too. “Most of them are pretty fresh, so I can’t take them out without damaging them. You’ll keep my secret, won’t you, Senpai?”
The way her eyes narrow at the sight of his piercings is something that he’s used to. But her bewilderment at his light flirting is not. When her bewilderment does not turn into disgust or outrage, but rather settles into a vague flush of embarrassment and shyness, he can feel his grin widen.
As she makes her way out of the library, he leans forward and writes in his entirely empty notebook: Makoto Niijima-senpai—could be useful.
It continues, sort of as a joke to himself.
Niijima-senpai is easily flustered. It doesn’t take much for her to squeak and duck her head, blood clearly rushing into her cheeks and ears. When he has a spare moment at school, Akira takes to wandering the first and third floor hallways, on the off chance that Niijima-senpai is off running some errand or another on behalf of the faculty—she usually is.
He doesn’t even have to say much. A polite greeting and a slightly ironic bow from him, paired with a quick glance at his piercings from her, reduce her usually clever and clear speech to a mumbled, shy greeting.
Akira can’t help but find the reaction amusing and endearing.
But that’s all it is, he tells himself sternly, amusing and slightly endearing.
He has enough on his plate: his criminal record to start, but now getting entangled in some strange “Cognitive Universe” alongside Ryuji and with the appearance of a “not-cat” in life…he barely has any time to himself.
So, his interactions with Niijima-senpai are fun little distractions. Isolated events that he has no intention of taking any further than to fluster her.
Akira is steadfast in this resolution…until he isn’t.
It’s a rainy Saturday afternoon and he’d spent a few hours after school scouting the layout of Shujin Academy. He and Ryuji (well, mostly him and much less Ryuji) were increasingly sure of the links between the real world and Kamoshida’s cognitive palace. Investigating the layout of the school in real life could give them hints as to where the Safe Rooms were in the palace.
It feels like there is an oppressive weight on his shoulders. With Shiho’s attempted suicide, Ann and Ryuji are increasingly anxious about dealing with Kamoshida. He doesn’t know how, but he’s somehow become the de-facto leader of their little operation. The stress of everything feels crushing—like the storm clouds overhead have come to rest.
When he spots Niijima-senpai at the front gate of the school, it feels like a welcome distraction.
For a moment, he just watches as she stares up at the pouring rain. He expects her to pull out an umbrella, but she doesn’t. Instead, she begins to pull her jacket out from her bag.
“Niijima-senpai?”
“Eep!” She startles and jumps a few steps towards the top of the stairs. Instinctively, he lunges forward to grab her. But she catches herself and turns around.
He manages to shove his hand back into the pocket of his pants and force a casual stance, as if his heart hadn’t nearly leapt from his throat at the prospect of her tripping down the stairs.
“Kurusu-kun,” she nods at him. “What are you still doing at school at this time? Did you have extracurricular activities?”
He thinks about his snooping around the school with his third eye activated, looking for secrets that might help in the Cognitive Palace. “Something like that.” She looks like she wants to ask him more, so he continues, “What about you, senpai?”
“Student council work.”
“Oh right. The cost of Miss Prez’s glamorous title.”
Niijima-senpai laughs, but it sounds tired. She looks tired. She looks sad. “I’m just doing my job.” She trails off as she tugs her jacket the rest of the way out of her bag. Akira can almost hear the gears spinning in her head, calculating the distance to the station.
“Wait, did you forget your umbrella?”
“I–no–it was clear when I left the house this morning! And the report didn’t predict rain today.”
“So, yes.”
She glares at him, and the expression is so cute he has to bite back a laugh. He holds his hands up in defense. “I just would have thought that someone as careful as you are would have a spare umbrella in your locker.”
“I usually do,” she tells him. “I just lent it to another student the last time it rained and haven’t gotten it back yet.”
He nods, mostly to himself. Niijima-senpai would be the type to be generous with other people and forget about herself. “And that leaves you with no umbrella now.”
She doesn’t seem to like him doubting her. “I’ll be fine. I’ll just run.”
“Of course not,” he says. “You can borrow mine.” He reaches into his bag and shoves an indignant Morgana out of the way before pulling out his umbrella.
“You carry an extra umbrella?” she asks, surprised.
“No.”
“What? Then what are you going to do?”
“I’ll just run.” He smirks as he can already anticipate her disapproval.
“That’s silly. You’ll be soaked.” She pushes his umbrella back towards him.
“You’ll be soaked if you do it,” he counters, pushing back.
“I’ll be fine!” She pulls her jacket over her head stubbornly, clearly preparing to make a run for it.
Akira shoots his hand out to stop her. He doesn’t know why, but he really doesn’t want her to do it. “Niijima-senpai, just wait.” He expands his umbrella. “We can just share.”
He steps closer and holds it over both of their heads. The umbrella is small, leaving most of left shoulder exposed, but it is better than nothing.
“It’s not big enough for both of us, we’ll both be half-soaked,” she says.
He glances down at her—he didn’t realize before how much taller he is than her. It makes him feel…protective, or something. He isn’t quite sure.
He tugs her along and out of the building. “Yeah, but that’s better than being fully soaked.”
They walk together, and despite himself, he likes the way she feels next to him. She’s warm, present, and real in a way that nobody has been in a while. Everyone is always expecting something of him, but she never seems like she does. Adults see him and only see his criminal record. Fellow students see him as a scary delinquent. Even Ryuji and Ann, despite being his only friends in Tokyo, look at him with some expectation of leadership. Niijima-senpai doesn’t seem to have any expectations of him at all.
“Were you sighing about not having an umbrella?” The thought occurs to him suddenly.
She turns to look at him and her eyes are sad. “I…no.” She bites her lip and the action is…distracting. “No, I’d just wished this morning that it wouldn’t rain on my birthday.”
“It wouldn’t rain on your…” He stops in his tracks. “It’s your birthday?”
She nods.
Akira can feel a familiar outrage bubbling forward. "It's your birthday and you stayed at school until five-thirty working?”
“Well, I have responsibilities—”
The way she tries to excuse it and shoulder the burden herself only serves to make it angrier. “None of the other student council members could do them?”
“They all had plans and I didn’t have—”
“It’s your birthday!” Akira isn’t quite sure where the anger comes from, but it springs forth unexpectedly. “If each person was willing to do a small part, you’d all be out of there faster. But nobody was willing to do anything that would slightly inconvenience themselves to help you out. They were only looking out for themselves. Selfish.” He spits the last word out like acid.
The world is shitty and unfair. People who care, work hard, and mean well, like Niijima-senpai are left with nothing.
“Um.”
She doesn’t seem to know what to say at his burst of anger. He can tell it surprised her. He takes a breath and reigns it in. He makes an effort to lighten his tone. “Right. Well, are you doing anything to celebrate now that you’re free?”
Niijima-senpai is quiet for a moment. “No.”
He isn’t surprised, but continues, “Isn’t eighteen an important birthday, senpai? Shouldn’t you be out having fun?”
“I’ve been too busy to plan anything,” she says quietly.
Her expression is melancholic, and he can’t seem to leave her alone. “Well, I heard that if you make a wish on an eyelash and blow it away, it’ll come true.” He makes a show of stroking his chin, knowing it will make her smile. “Shall I pluck one of my own out as a gift to you?”
She laughs and it feels like he accomplished a mission. “Thanks, but I’m fine. You can keep your pretty lashes.”
He can’t resist teasing her more. “Oh, you think I’m pretty, do you senpai?”
Her reaction is everything he’d hope for as she squeaks, “What—”
“Joking, of course.” He purposely flashes his piercings. “Mysterious and dangerous would be more accurate.”
Niijima-senpai turns bright pink and half-marches them to the station wordlessly.
When they reach the subway station, he shakes his umbrella out lightly before putting it away. She looks like she is ready to leave and, impulsively, before he can rethink it, he says, “Let me buy you a warm drink.” He clears his throat. “For your birthday.”
Her surprise is evident. “Oh, that is not necessary, Kurusu-kun. You’ve already helped me out.”
“Actually, you’d be helping me out.” That’s…technically the truth. “I…work at a café.” That’s…also technically the truth.
“You’re a barista?”
“No, well, I just started.” He rubs the back of his neck. “My boss has been teaching me to make coffee and he says I need lots of practice. So why don’t I make you a coffee and you can give me your honest opinion.”
There are many reasons this is a bad idea: one, with the stresses of possible expulsion weighing him down, it doesn’t seem like the best time to get entangled with the fucking Student Council President. And two, he isn’t very good at making coffee yet—Boss has told him so in no uncertain terms. But he pushes forward anyway.
“Can you just give away coffee like this?”
“It’s just one cup, I’m sure my boss will understand.” I hope.
“Well…” She checks her phone and seems to come to a conclusion. “If you’re sure you won’t get in trouble and it’s not too much of a hassle…Thank you, Kurusu-kun.”
Akira doesn’t know why, but it feels like a win.
Akira doesn’t second guess his impulsive decision until they’re in front of the door at Leblanc. But by that time, it’s definitely too late. This…doesn’t quite feel like a joke to himself anymore. He’d meant to simply tease Niijima-senpai at school because her reactions were cute and kind of funny. But bringing her to Leblanc feels like something else.
Whatever. It’s just a cup of coffee.
He shakes off his umbrella, adjusts the ‘Open’ sign on the door, and pushes it open. The familiar chime of the bell sounds overhead.
Boss is behind the counter, as usual, grouchily flipping through the newspaper. He speaks before he even looks up. “Hey kid, you’re back late. You’re not out there causing any…” He looks up to see Niijima-senpai. “A girl?”
Akira clears his throat. “She’s…” he isn’t sure how to finish the sentence, “my classmate.” Smooth. “It’s her birthday.”
“Oh.” Clearly Boss doesn’t know how to deal with his temporary ward bringing a female classmate to his home-slash-work. “Well, happy birthday.”
Niijima-senpai bows politely. “Um. Thank you. Kurusu-kun offered to make me a cup of coffee. But if it’s too much trouble I can—”
“No, no.” Boss interrupts. Niijima-senpai’s politeness and obvious goody-two-shoes aura shines through. Boss’s approval of her practically radiates out of him. “He needs the practice.”
“Thanks Boss,” Akira says sarcastically.
Boss glares at him. “Don’t make a mess or get in any funny business.”
“She’s the student council president.” He can’t help but quip back.
“Okay and?” Boss is taking none of his shit. “Keep an eye on the café and stay out of trouble.”
With that, Boss saunters out from behind the counter, dons his hat and beelines it out the door. When the door clicks shut, Akira is suddenly aware of two astonishing facts: first, he is alone with a girl in what is basically his home, and second, they are both half soaked and he can pretty clearly see the damp outline of bra through her shirt. It’s all a lot to process.
Before she can speak, he holds up a hand. “Give me a second.”
He turns around, sprints up the stairs to his room and yanks his rain-soaked uniform off like a madman. Morgana pops out of the bag, outraged at the damp condition of Akira’s belongings, but Akira pays him no mind. He changes into something more comfortable and grabs a spare t-shirt from his box.
At the top of the stairs, he pauses and takes a deep breath. What was he doing? Hell if he knew.
Niijima-senpai looks frustratingly charming in his shirt. It’s obviously too big for her, and hides most of her figure, but the wider neckline reveals more of her delicate collarbones than he’s ever seen. It’s a stupid thing to focus on, but Akira is feeling stupid today.
He somehow manages to play it off and focus on working the siphon coffee maker. He explains how the contraption works and she seems impressed. He even manages to get his head together enough to tease her. It’s easy to predict what will make the straight-laced student council president blush. Anything that verges on flirty is enough to send a cute rush of blood into her face.
Akira can’t deny that he finds her interesting. She is easy enough on the eyes, but somehow reacts like she’s never been flirted with in her life. Yet even as a transfer student, he’s heard tell of her soaring achievements and her aikido prowess. Logically, Makoto Niijima should not be the type to lack for compliments—though her aikido skills may be a deterrent for flirts.
It feels like an experiment of sorts: how far can he push her before she snaps back? Surely she knows about his fearsome reputation and delinquent persona—why isn’t she scared? Why isn’t she disgusted at the “criminal transfer student” flirting with her?
Despite her position of relative authority at Shujin, Niijima-senpai has never seemed to judge him in the same way as all the other students did. He’s caught her staring more than once, an inquisitive glint in her eye as she studies him.
In fact, even as he pretends to focus on making coffee, he can feel her gaze on him. He hopes the humidity hasn’t ruined his hair.
He manages to pour the coffee from the siphon coffee maker into a mug without spilling or breaking anything. Already an improvement from his first foray into the craft of coffee-making under Boss’s supervision.
“Cream or sugar?” he asks.
“Both please.”
As he pulls the cream and sugar out from behind the counter, he warns her of Boss’s disapproval of additions to the purity of black coffee. The way she wrinkles her nose in response is so fucking cute that he can’t help the laugh he releases in response.
He slides the coffee, cream, and sugar to her and leans forward on his forearms. She thanks him quietly. He gestures for her to try the coffee. She stirs a spoonful of sugar into her mug and tops it off with a bit of cream. He watches her closely as she inhales the steam coming off the top of the mug.
Her eyes flutter closed and he can’t blame her. Akira wasn’t much of a coffee drinker before arriving in Tokyo, but Boss’s careful selection of beans in combination with the lingering smell of curry make for an extremely enticing fragrance.
She takes a sip and…winces.
“What do you think?” He can’t help but ask.
“It’s…strong.”
That’s…not right. He narrows his eyes. “It’s not supposed to be. What do you mean strong?”
She tries to let him down kindly, but when he reaches across the bar top and retrieves the coffee, he realizes that he burnt the shit out of it. Strong was too kind of a word.
Niijima-senpai still tries to finish the cup anyway. And Akira can’t have that. His pride is on the line.
Instead, he makes her a hot chocolate. He is pleasantly surprised when she teases him back. He knows that she’s clever, so hearing her quip back at him is a charming change of pace.
He sits next to her at the bar while she drinks the hot chocolate. She lets out a happy hum after the first sip and sets the cup back down on the counter.
“Not burnt then?” he asks, only half joking.
“It’s perfect. Thank you Kurusu-kun.”
“Good. I’m glad.” And he means it.
A companionable silence falls between them, the pitter-patter of rain outside lending a comfortable atmosphere.
“So, Ms. Prez,” he turns slightly to face her as he speaks, “what’s the deal with Shujin?”
Niijima-senpai tilts her head slightly to the side as she considers the question. “Shujin Academy is a school with a long history of success, academic, athletic, and artistic,” she says.
Akira has to keep from rolling his eyes. “Thanks, Niijima-senpai. I read the school pamphlet too. Come on, you’re on the student council, you must be able to tell me something else. Some behind the scenes information.”
She looks vaguely confused at his sarcasm. “The role of the student council is to support the students of Shujin. I don’t think we have any behind the scenes information. Our goal is always to allow students to make the most of their high school years.”
He huffs in irritation. I can see why some of the gossipers call her a robot now… “What do you do on the council, then?”
“As the student council president, I strive to represent our students well and to make sure everyone is thriving.” Niijima-senpai responds earnestly, without a drop of sarcasm.
“Everyone?” Akira can’t help but press.
She nods.
“Even the delinquent transfer student?” He smirks.
“Especially him.” She gives him a small smile that hits somewhere in his chest.
He has to look away to ask his next question. “What about the volleyball team?”
He feels, rather than sees her posture stoop. Her gaze drops to the countertop, away from his face. “I…”
He turns back to her and studies her. Niijima-senpai grips the mug tightly between her hands and stares into the half-empty cup. She nips at her bottom lip between her teeth as she thinks. Her red eyes are sorrowful.
“I didn’t know,” she finally says.
“Kamoshida was beating them to the point that they were showing up with injuries on a regular basis and you didn’t know?”
She winces. “Nobody ever came to me with a problem…and the team was winning national championships, so everyone seemed okay, and it wasn’t until…” She trails off.
“Suzui.” The name drops like a weight between them.
Niijima-senpai nods. “After Suzui-san’s suicide attempt, I tried to ask around. Nobody wanted to say anything to me, and Principal Kobayakawa told me to stop poking around places I didn’t belong.” She looks at him with a pleading expression, as if she was begging for his understanding—forgiveness?
He keeps his face impassive. “Hm.”
He doesn’t quite know what to do with this new information yet. Despite being the student council president, Niijima-senpai is only a student, so perhaps there was nothing that she could have done.
They sit in silence for a moment. Akira can see the way she holds the tension and regret in her neck and shoulders. This clearly isn’t the first time she’s pondered this issue.
At length, he relents and changes the subject. “I hear that you’re the top of the third-year class.”
She nods, seemingly grateful for the change of subject. “I try my best.” She studies him. Her eyes flick to the spots where Kawakami made him take his piercings out. “How about you, Kurusu-kun? How are you finding your classes?”
He thinks about dodging Ushimaru-sensei’s chalk missiles, keeping Morgana in his desk, and everything that’s happened with Kamoshida. “They’ve been alright.”
Academics seems to be within Niijima-senpai’s comfort zone, so she pushes him. “If you’re finding them difficult, you can always ask for help. I would be happy to share some of my notes if you think they would be useful.” She looks at him, red eyes wide and earnest. “I know you have a…reputation at school right now, but succeeding in your classes would go a long way to change it.”
It is the first time she has directly commented on his reputation. In a way, it’s kind of refreshing for someone to be so straightforward with him. He wonders if her eagerness to help stems from her role as student council president.
“Thank you, Senpai.” In spite of himself, he means it. “I didn’t have a student council president like you in my previous high school.”
She latches on to that. “So…where are you from?”
“A small town in a prefecture outside Tokyo.” His answer is short and he doesn’t want to dwell on his memories of his hometown.
She purses her lips a little but doesn’t press him further. She takes a sip of her hot chocolate as she processes his non-answer. She seems to be working up the courage to continue her line of questioning. She sets her mug down on the counter. “What did you do to get you sent to Tokyo?”
There it is.
He raises his brow and smirks at her. “Got in trouble.”
She shakes her head, and his smirk deepens, enjoying her frustration at his vague answers. “What kind of trouble?”
“Big trouble.” He gives her a smile that he knows is intimidating. He gives the same ones to the gossipy first years at Shujin to make them back off. “Have you ever been in trouble, Niijima-senpai?”
The question throws her off guard. “No, I couldn’t make problems for my sister like that.”
“Your sister?”
Niijima-senpai seems to sit up straighter before she answers. “Yes, my sister is a prosecutor at the Public Prosecutors Office. She’s in the Special Investigations Department. She’s one of the youngest to ever join the department. If I got in trouble, it would reflect poorly on her.”
Well, shit, he thinks to himself. The pretty president is not only the top of her class, but also has connections to the police. More and more, getting involved with her doesn’t seem like a good idea.
She fidgets nervously under his gaze. She tucks her chocolate brown hair behind her ears, but a few strands escape.
And yet…
His fingers twitch with the urge to brush her hair back. Her eyes study him in return, but flit away as she picks up her cup. As she finishes her drink, he notices a lash on her cheek.
He leans forward, well into her space and she makes a surprised noise. Her whole body freezes at his approach, he smirks inwardly. From this close, her eyes are a kaleidoscope of reds, deep burgundy to a rich garnet. Her dark lashes stand out as a stark contrast against her fair and smooth skin.
With a single finger, he brushes the lash from her cheek.
“Aha! I thought so.” Finding a stray lash feels like a triumph, after their discussion earlier.
She exhales shakily. “What?”
He turns his finger to show her the eyelash. “Good timing.” He winks at her. “I guess I won’t have to pluck one of my pretty lashes for you. You can make a wish on your own.”
Her laugh is the chime of a silver bell, calling to him.
“Here, make a wish.” He leans forward again and holds his finger close to her mouth.
She flutters those long lashes shut to make her wish. There is a pause as she thinks. A small crease begins to form between her brows. It’s really fucking cute that she takes even an eyelash wish so seriously.
Coming from where he’s been, with all of the fake niceties and overt hostility he’s had to put up with, meeting someone who so earnestly and honestly wants to be good is a balm. Niijima-senpai has no ulterior motive to come to the café except for his company and no reason to be kind to him except her own will.
She finally comes to a decision and her shoulders and chest lift as she takes a deep breath. He almost smiles at the exaggerated motion. Her soft, pink lips purses and she blows the lash off his finger.
She opens her eyes and their gazes lock. There is a softness in her expression, something peaceful and sweet that he wants to dive into. He feels caught in the moment, his heart rate picking up. Suddenly all his joking flirtations don’t feel like such a joke anymore. He is increasingly aware that less than a hand's length separates their faces and if he leaned forward a little more…
“Kurusu-kun?” Her voice interrupts his wild imagination. “Did I do that right…?”
He snaps backwards. What the fuck?
Out of habit, he adjusts his glasses and lets his neutral expression wash over him again. He takes a breath before speaking. “Well, happy birthday, Niijima-senpai. I hope your wish comes true.”
“Thank you, Kurusu-kun.” She glances out the window. The sound of rain is no longer part of the ambient noise of the café. “It looks like the rain has stopped, at least momentarily.” She hops off the barstool and picks up her bag. “I think I should take advantage of that and head out.”
“Right.” He is barely able to choke out a response. What the hell was that? It was all supposed to be a joke because she was kind of cute and easy to tease. He flirts with girls all the time!
“Well…” She seems to be waiting for a further response from him, but he doesn’t feel capable. “Thank you for the hot chocolate. It was the nicest thing anyone has done for my birthday in a while.”
He waves her off, not able to meet her (beautiful, expressive, interesting) eyes anymore. “It was nothing, Senpai.” Akira knows that his abrupt shift in attitude must confuse her—hell, he is confused himself at the sudden descent into madness.
As she passes, she bids him a quiet goodbye, her hand ghosting across his shoulder. He swears he feels a tingle run down his arm. He only acknowledges her with a nod, still not quite able to look in her direction.
He studies her mug instead and tries not to think about her lips pressed against the rim and the sweet chocolate that she sipped.
But when he hears her footsteps reach the door, he can’t help but look up at her again. She’s turned back to look at him too. She’s still wearing his shirt and it’s too easy to like that. His heart lurches, but he doesn’t drop his gaze.
After a beat, she looks away, pushes the door open, and steps out of the café.
He watches after her for a moment, then takes his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose. He inhales sharply. Exhales.
It doesn’t feel like a fucking joke right now.