What does he see in me?
Tooru isn't sure when the thought popped into her head, only that it barbs her so.
Unseen eyes flit across the room, past shelves dozens of rows high, tall glass windows, and leather bound books inscribed with gold. It's quiet. Too quiet. The silence stings worse than the cliche, toxic to the restless mind. Why she ever chose the library is beyond her. Still, she ponders: ponders the question and worse, it's answers. Unseen fingers twitch and begin to fidget.
When? She deflects.
Lecture? Yes, English period, had to be English. She could see it now: first period— head cocked to one side, cheek pressed against her palm as it always was, bored out of her fucking mind. Language courses sucked, and Mic-Sensei's over-the-top enthusiasm did the material no favors.
No, she shifts in her seat. Didn't sound right.
Lunch Rush, then. Yes, it had to be. They were talking about hair length. Brought up by Ochako of all people—afraid of it being too puffy or something stupid like that. Not like she cared, well, not too much at least. Okay. Maybe quite a bit.
She really didn't have much to contribute whenever the girls talked about those sort of things. A rarity, granted – hero work topped any UA student's list of priorities (except maybe Mina? Yeah, definitely Mina). Nevertheless, on those rare occasions when it did, boy did she notice.
Bangs? Pigtails? Heck! She hardly remembered her own hair color(Dark blond, almost brown? No, no, she'd reassure herself for the what had to be the thousandth time, stomach knotting as it always did. Light brown almost blond, duh. Heh, definitely that...). Yeah, she could definitely see such thoughts creeping in around that time.
No, wrong as well—she leans back, pressing the textbook away with a sigh—timing's off.
Speaking of which, dang. The wall clock tics ever onward – thirty minutes till 10. She looks down at the abandoned English primer in front of her, to say nothing of the reams languishing away in the depths of her bag: the world literature textbook in all its 30-something-pages-of-unread-machiavellian-glory, the half-typed heroics essay two pages short of the minimum length...
Ah, poop.
All this work, and all she can do is ponder why that sweet, sweet ball of tailed simplicity liked her so? Another all-nighter it was, then. Well played, inner Tooru, well played...
Sighing, she looks up at the object of her thoughts. He's sitting across from her, eyes down, hands crossed at the edge of his book in manner so serene it gives his expression a run for its money. And his tail? It trails out from the seatback, curled loosely around a chair leg. So peaceful, so calm.
Calm. The word rolls across the stream of her thoughts. Yes, that's him, her boy: always relaxed, always composed, always... Ojiro. She hadn't seen him lose composure since the sports festival. Well, she cracks an unseen smile, not the ONLY time...
"I um... I like you," he says, eyes on the floor as the words fly in her face like claw hammers. Thank god for invisibility.
"Sorry!" he's waving his hands now. "Really, I am! I don't know how to do these sort of things, and this is probably way too direct but"— the tail swishing behind him jerks slightly as he inhales, eyes scrunching shut – "will you please go out with me?!"
Direct indeed.
She leaned back, savoring the small twitch at the corners of her mouth, the slight flutter to her heart's cadence. Good times, those early weeks— awkward as heck (were they ever not?), but definitely cute. Genuine. Definitely him, definitely Ojiro.
Still...
Her hands tensed against the table.
Why?
She raps a knuckle against the tabletop, and he looks up.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself," he says with a blink, cocking his head to the side. "English got you down again, I see."
"Very cute," she shuts the textbook with a clap. "I could say the same of you."
"You couldn't, actually."
"Oh, but I could, silly."
"Could not."
"Could to!"
"You're really going there, aren't you?"
"I'm doing it right now, silly!"
"But I'm not even on it," he says, tapping his book. "See? World literature. It's—"
"Oh please," she taps his backpack splayed out across the desk. "You're putting it off for last. My point remains, silly."
"Ah," he closes his book, lips bending into his usual muted— if awkward— smile. "Guess it does. Touché."
His tail sways out behind him.
"Read the world literature hand-out yet?"
"Eh, the Machiavelli stuff?" She plants her forehead against the table with a dull thump. "Nope. Better not be that bad. This night's rough as is."
"Good news, then," he says. "It's pretty interesting, actually. I can sort of see why Ishiyama-sensei likes it so much."
"Of course you would," she says, bobbing her head even though she knows he can't see, "nerd."
His tail jerks. "Well aren't you the nicest little hero-to-be."
"Neeeerrrrd."
He's laughing now. "Sometimes I swear..."
"Swear what?" She asks, leaning in.
"What?" He closes his book. "Oh that, it's nothing."
"Say it."
"Nothing. It's just an expression, see? Like, two birds with one stone, the bee's knees, or cat's pajamas."
She chuckles at that last one.
"Cat's pajamas, huh? Dang," she twirls her pen, watching it spin in mid-air. "Whoever makes those up needs to be shot."
"More heroic quotes..."
He leans in with another laugh, staring hard at the place she can only assume is he thinks her eyes are (he's looking at her forehead). Close enough, she figures. The story of her life, really...
"Darned good thing we aren't heroes yet then, eh?" She whispers, mirroring his lean-in.
"A darned good thing," he echoes, darting in for a quick kiss. Tingles. "A good thing indeed."
"Something's bothering you."
"Eh?" Her grip on his hand tightens. "What makes you think that?"
"I'm not stupid," he says, swinging her hand up in that playful manner he knows she likes. "But actually."
She looks down at the pavement, trying to lose herself in the drone of passing traffic. She breaths in slowly. The night air is nice— cool and clean with a slight hint of moisture (from the morning rain, no doubt). Very nice indeed. Much better than the library, at least.
"It's nothing," she finally says. "Just had to get outside. Study break," she pops a skip, "thanks for coming with me."
He shrugs, shoulders square beneath his uniform. His tail swishes behind him with increasing frequency. Faster, faster, then—
"So!" he punches her shoulder lightly, awkwardly, "did I get it that time?"
"Hm?"
"You know, before we left?"
"Oh," she rubs her cheek on her shoulder. Tingles. "That."
He nods twice with a sigh, a small, barely-noticeable slump creeping into his shoulders.
"I'll take that as a no, then," he says. He's looking up at the sky, slight squint to his eyes. "Forehead again?"
"An eyelid, actually. The left one," she says. Her gaze joins his on the sky. "Closer than last time, right?"
"Mm," he breathes. "Progress is progress, I guess."
"Yeah," she says, biting her lip. "Progress is progress."
"Mmm," he hums again. One finger points skyward. "City's a weird place, sometimes. No stars despite a clear sky."
"Except it's not weird at all, silly," she shoots back, slapping his hand aside and motioning all around, "the city throws off so much light it blots out the stars for miles around. Only the moon and a couple planets manage to shine through. I think it's called light pollution or something like that."
"Light pollution? Funny term."
"Eh," she bounces on her toes, head bobbing in kind. "It is what it is."
"Maybe," he concedes, scratching the back of his head with the tip of his tail. "Guess I just never thought of light as stifling."
"You'd be surprised."
"Touché," he laughs, stretching his arms wide. His tail flicks downward and swishes repeatedly. "Back in the mountains, you can see so many stars."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah," he says, sweeping a hand across the heavens to illustrate. "Swaths of them— big ones, little ones, clusters so dense you can't tell where one ends and another begins. Like a mist of light."
"Mist of light, hm?" she echoes, squinting at the empty sky. "Sounds mystifying."
Another laugh.
"You'd like it," he says. "Maybe when I head home this summer, I'll show it to you," he scratches the back of his head. "Only if you'd want to, that is, heh."
Her stomach flutters.
"I'd like that," she says before the pause gets too awkward, squeezing his hand. "Sounds like fun."
"Great!" He sputters another laugh, tail flicking with excitement. "I-I mean— no really! Great! Don't get me wrong, the city's awesome. UA's awesome. Still, it's always nice to have a change of pace once in a while." He points skyward. "Always nice to see a sky full of stars."
Her shoulders tense.
"There are stars in this sky, Ojiro..."
"Really?" He squints, "I think you just got better eyes than me."
Her stomach drops.
"No, it has nothing to do with eyes. Nothing at all, actually," she says, tracing a slow finger along the curve of her cheek: that cheek he's never seen—will probably never see. Her fingers squirm beneath his.
"Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's not there."
"Maybe," he says with a shrug. Her grip on his hand tightens for a half-second. "No, definitely."
The whining drone of an overhead jet fades in and out of earshot. He motions with the turn his chin once the calm resumes.
"We should probably head back. The library closes in an hour or so."
She swings their joined hands back and forth, reminding her of those tire swings she used to play on as a kid. She tries to swallow, and for the first time in a while, is relieved he can't see her face.
"Yeah, you're right," she says, voice soft and hollow. "Gotta lot of work to do."
His tail droops as he peers down at her, eyes scanning fruitlessly across what may as well be empty air.
Empty air.
Her grip tightens further, and the swinging stops.
"Shall we?" she hears him say as he turns toward the school's outline, tail curving behind him. He takes a step forward, but she holds fast. Her grip starts to shake.
"Hey, Ojiro?"
He stops, turning to face her.
"Yes?"
Her lip trembles, fluttering in tune to the churn of her stomach, the drone of passing traffic. She scratches at the pavement with the toe of her shoe, looking down. Not that he'd know of course, but—
"Why do you like me?"
The phrase floats above the din, barely above a whisper, chased by silence.
She looks up, and his look confirms her suspicion. Funny how words like these can slip out so easily yet remain unable to be recalled. Her hands clench, a tremor spreading down her frame. Stupid.
"Tooru?"
"It's nothing," she says, releasing his hand.
"That doesn't sound like nothing."
"Ojiro, please," she looks away, tremors spreading to her voice. "Just being stupid. Forget I said anything."
"It's not stu—"
"I have a lot of work to do," she says, shouldering by. "It's not a good time anyway and— hey!"
He's got her by the wrist. Restless eyes flit across her face as if blind— searching, failing.
"Please," he says. "It's never a good time for these sort of things, but it's the only time we've got."
His tail curls behind him nervously as he traces his hand up her wrist, past the cuff-links, and over the unseen skin beyond.
"This is a nice hand," he says taking it in both of his. Slowly, he feels for the gaps in her fingers, entwining them with his. "Warm, soft, but strong."
He cracks a small smile, cheeks flushing as her grip stiffens.
"I'm very lucky," he says, "what is more important? The shape of a hand, or it's warmth?" He turns his hands over, "its touch?"
He nods at the depressions her fingers make in his skin, the rounded, pink-tinged indents trailing from the gaps in his fingers to near his sinuous wrists. Imprints, he once called them back when they first touched, voice teetering, body palsied toes to tail from attempt after failed attempt at hand holding. She still remembers how it all evaporated once their fingers managed to entwine, how the bends and curves grew still and certain beneath each other's feel.
"I'm very lucky," he repeats, "lucky to have someone like you leave their mark on me."
A light giggle. Somehow she's smirking at the ground, tucking an invisible wisp of hair behind an unseen ear. He pulls her close, and she can't help follow, snaking her arms around the small of his back. A light thump overhead— the tip of his chin padding about the top of her head, feeling around for the right spot, finally coming to rest at its peak. She can feel the slow beat of his heart, the soft metronome of his breaths. Like ocean waves, she figures. She could get used to this. Still—
"You're okay with this, then?" Her fingers scrunch the fabric of his blazer. "I mean, I like muttering nonsense just as much as you, but this is serious. You'll probably never see—"
"I don't care about that," he says, straightening to his full height. His tail is taut, hooked around his shoulder like a crowbar, "and neither should you."
She stiffens at the change, and his tension evaporates.
"Uh, just my opinion," he says, tail resuming its nervous swish.
She sighs, shoulders relaxing as she pulls herself closer, burrowing her nose into the pleats of his shirt.
"You're too polite sometimes."
He shrugs. "Can't be too careful."
No, she figures, no you can't.
She doesn't know how long they stand there. Not that it matters, of course— it hardly feels like standing at all. The night air is cool and soothing, the perfect complement to his warmth.
"It's a great night, you know," he says. "The city lights, the coolness of the air, the sky above."
"Yeah," she concedes, voice barely above a whisper. One sigh— measured yet sober. "No stars, though."
"Of course there are, silly," he whispers, tracing his hands downward, allowing them to rest just north of her hips. "Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it's not there." He pats her gently. "I'll bet they're beautiful. The most beautiful things I've never seen."
"Jeez," she snorts once the tingles stop. "You can be such a nerd sometimes."
He chuckles. Shame he can't see the smile, but at least it doesn't hurt like it used to. Still a sting, mind you, but a manageable one. She'll take manageable anyday.
"We are what we are, I guess," he says.
"Mm," she hums, holding him tight. Unseen eyes close, lost to the warmth of his hands, the low beat of roadside traffic, the cool city air.
A great night indeed, stars and all.
"Neeeerrrrrrd..."
End.
A/N - Hope you all liked it. OjiroxTooru is sleeper good, and I hope the story did the pairing justice. Feel free to let me know what you think. Any feedback is good feedback.
Till the next one!
Peace, Love, Plus Ultra,
-Nuke
edit- S/o to pen name Noyb for help with word choice issues.