Brilliant cerulean orbs stared into deep mahogany ones meaningfully. A 4'9 brunette swallowed heavily, breaths not nearly as controlled as she'd wished them to be as she stared into the blueness that nothing around her could currently disrupt. Her head was angled upwards – if it hadn't been, she wouldn't have been able to even look into those eyes – eyes that she, despite not wanting to admit it, had grown to love; she cherished their mischievous though painfully sweet gaze – yearned for the approval, the undeniable warmth she felt in them. The teen's quiet self was rendered completely speechless, mesmerized by the boyish half smirk that Aoba Kuronuma so carelessly beamed to her – with a smile so beautiful, one would think he'd be more careful who he shot them at.
The very same blue eyes that mesmerized the teenage girl before him, Kururi Orihara, were captivated by her own deep maroon irises. It pained him to no end to admit that he had feelings for her. If it was up to the blue haired boy's mind alone, he'd never have developed emotions like these – having the emotional range of a duck was really just about enough for him; he'd have been completely satisfied if he'd managed to remain on such a level – but this girl before him had ruined it. He felt both passion and resentment towards her; which of the two was stronger, however, was not something he could figure out. She was a tedious enigma, but oh how he wished he could understand what he felt.
Kururi's back was against a black board, the strip of metal at the bottom of the board intended to hold chalk was poking into her lower back, her fingers nervously gripping it also. There was a palm, much larger than her own, pressed to the cold, clean board behind her, another hand placed beneath her chin, helping her in keeping her eyes on his. Her heart beat's irregularity was becoming more and more extreme with each movement he'd made, and her insecurities shouted at her. They told her that this was most definitely not what she thought it was – but, what else could it be?
Only a few short minutes ago, he, Aoba, had found the girl in front of him on the roof of the school building that he quite well knew she despised. He'd found himself questioning her attendance, why she'd bothered to even come that day – he'd only seen her in school before twice at the maximum. It had been the middle of class – a test at that, and it turned out she'd finished her test early and was waiting to leave; something she couldn't do while classes were still in session. Aoba took a couple minutes of contemplation to think of a plan – a plan he hadn't 100% intended would end up where they were now, but it had. And that was what was relevant right now.
Her body temperature was elevating, and she could feel her cheeks tint red. "Ao..ba?" she whispered, swallowing heavily once more. It wasn't hard to spot that his breathing wasn't completely under control either as he bent his elbow, pressing himself against her figure – her brutally stunning figure. He had to bite the tip of his tongue, hearing his name being ushered by such lips – lips he craved, but couldn't bring himself to seek. Instead, he just kept his stupid grin on, his cheeks tinged with color also. It took him so much effort to avert his gaze from hers – it was the shame he felt in his blood pressure raising that gave him the strength to manage separation from wide ashen red hues. He scoffed, also swallowing as he parted his own lips. "I…" he began, trying to phrase why he'd pinned her to a chalk board in such a passionate manner, but not finding any sort of valid explanation in him. Instead, he shook his head, removing his hand from her chin to scratch his nose. With one step, he separated their bodies, realizing what he'd done.
It would have been wrong to admit that she hated his hand leaving her skin, wouldn't it? Her lips found themselves sealed, the lower one however trembling – actually, it wasn't only her lip. Her whole form was shivering.
Why am I shaking?
She found herself questioning her own body, the emotions that were higher than her conscious level. The harder she attempted to control the tremors, the stronger they seemed to become, until she just gave in. His eyes having left hers, she dropped her own to the ground guiltily. He'd begun to say something – what? What had he wanted to tell her? Her curiosity would however go unsated, it seemed, as he turned around.
And then, without her own will taking any part in her further actions, one of her feet stepped forward, her thin arms throwing themselves around his neck, entangling her own fingers within each other as she buried her face into his chest, biting onto her lip in a ditch effort to make it stop it's trembling.
The taller boy's eyes had no choice other than to widen, shock, euphoria and temptation causing him to freeze up. He raised the hand that had still been pressed against the chalk board also, leaving a darker imprint on it as he held his palms a few inches away from the brunette's figure; he couldn't bring himself to touch her. He was certain that making physical contact of his own accord in such a manner would overwhelm him. Surely, it would make him do something – say something – that he'd regret, and he, Aoba Kuronuma, could not risk allowing such a thing to happen.
Instead, he allowed his arms to drop limply to his sides, enjoying the embrace of his companion but not giving her anything in return. He couldn't give himself that pleasure. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve her, or her feelings. All that he was capable of doing was ruining them anyway. If it had been anyone else, he most likely wouldn't have thought twice about pushing them down – forcefully, returning them from the clouds their minds had been in.
But Kururi's mind hadn't been in the clouds. This was real – she was feeling the same thing he was. All he could do now was to deny it for the sake of both of them; but he couldn't do that either. He wasn't strong enough to speak the opposite of what he was feeling directly to the face of someone he genuinely cared about.
The two stood there for minutes, Kururi's fingers unbinding themselves from each others to instead grasp the fabric of Aoba's shirt. She wanted to be acknowledged by him, and he wanted to acknowledge her so desperately that it caused his chest to heave and ache. All that filled the silence between them were their heavy breaths. She could feel his in her hair, and he could feel hers in his chest, warming his aching heart.
He would not acknowledge her, and Kururi realized that. With difficulty, she unhooked herself from him, collapsing against the black bored. She'd been leaning against him for the past few minutes, relying on his strength to hold her upright, and now it would take her a couple of seconds to wake her feet up. Her eyes remained on the floor, pained, though hiding themselves from those of the blue haired boy. His guilt continued to gnaw at him as he watched the scene unfold, seeing the usually emotionless, indifferent teenage girl reveal feelings that he was almost certain she never had before.
You're ruining her, Aoba.
He thought, clenching his jaw. His trademark smirk wasn't in the mood to play across his lips anymore – instead, a solemn frown had replaced it as he ducked his head to attempt to catch her eyes once more – she made quick work of dodging them. What was he supposed to do..?
"..Sorry." spoke a raspy, uncertain voice that barely sounded like the commonly mischievous tone that belonged to Aoba. That may have been a stupid choice in words – but if he knew what else to say, something that made sense and could correct this, he would have. He observed all he could see – layered locks of chocolaty brown hair falling downwards, hiding the most certainly flushed face and the most certainly pained eyes behind them.
Kururi shook her head slowly, denying that he had any need to apologize. In her mind, her insecurities had won. They'd been right, it was all just a misunderstanding – and that crushed her on a level higher than Aoba could understand. She knew that she wasn't likable. She was told that all the time. She really was completely useless on her own, reliant on her sister for everything. Who could find it in them to like someone like her..? It took every ounce of the small strength and self control she had in her to refuse tears the right to flow, as she leaned pitifully against the chalk board that she'd not long ago been pinned against.
He could only watch her silently, regretting being who he was. If she was to find out who he actually was in the first place, he knew in all certainty that any feelings he had for her would disperse… Right? That would definitely happen – that's why he couldn't risk it. He couldn't allow himself to lose her completely. His selfish self would rather her be miserable over him than to loath his existence – yes, that was it. He knew that he wouldn't be able to tolerate being hated by her.
And that's why he'd maintain his façade for however long he needed – until he wasn't loathsome anymore; if that day ever came…