Just a little something I thought of before I drifted off to sleep. Go ahead and bash me—I'm deleting it if you honestly think it's bad. Haven't done a third POV for a long time, so…
It was just an idea in my head that popped in and I didn't think of details. Don't sue.
Math
Summary: Bite your tongue.
"…and when you multiply it by this variable here, you get…"
Naminé was dozing off in class—she knew it was rude, especially when the teacher was a nice one. But the subject wasn't nice—it didn't come close.
She titled her head to one side and rested it on her palm, her blond hair tickling her arm as it flowed down. Her blue eyes started fluttering dangerously, everything blurring slightly.
It was so against her will. She didn't want to get a low grade, nor did she want the teacher to reprimand her. The artist wasn't exactly on the honor roll, but she tried, only not hard enough. Her mother often scolded her because of that, and she was trying her best; kind of.
After all, she did spend countless hours slouched over her books, practically buried alive under those once-trees. Once, she stayed up until it was early morning when the sun was starting to rise but then she realized it was a Saturday, so she was saved.
Unfortunately, it happened again the night before but not as incredible as that. She slept by the time her digital clock glared 1:00am.
It was almost dismissal, but for some reason, time ticked by ever so slowly, as if it glared at her with its sadistic smile, watching her suffer.
She felt herself lift to the air and into dreams, but came back down. Again she felt the feeling. She started giving in, slowly closing…
Tak
Something hit her at the back of her head. Her eyes flew open and she sat up straight. Her eyes flashed and she bit her tongue in the process, her brain in a mess. She kept herself from yelping by pressing her lips together tightly. She placed her pencil between her fingers and quickly copied whatever the teacher wrote on her doodle-filled notebook.
Her eyes caught a small crumpled yellow paper on the floor by her feet, and a muffled chuckle reached her ears. Naminé whipped around, scanning the back of the room for the culprit.
Classmates were either absorbed in the teacher's lesson or doing something else. She was sure…
Sora.
He had his hand clasped over his mouth tightly, his body shaking. He kept slapping his best friend Roxas on the back, who glared right back at him.
The girl rolled her eyes and stifled a yawn. She stood up, took the paper and headed towards the front of the room and threw the ball away.
She slid back into her seat and silently read her teacher's neat handwriting.
Eighteen X times… Oh!
Her eyes widened in realization. Eighteen. R. Now who would R be? She wondered as she jotted down notes furiously before her teacher erased the board.
Naminé didn't really believe in things like that, but it was fun to play—just a cheap thrill, as she called it. It was, but why'd she let her friends know? They'd call her a loser.
Tak
Another paper hit her on the temple. She didn't bother whirling around anymore—someone was playing a trick on her and she wouldn't fall for it.
She craned her neck and rolled her eyes, picking up the crumpled paper and tossed it under her chair, where, she decided, she would collect all those generous gifts and throw them after the class was over—yes, what a Samaritan she was.
Although I know who the R I wish would be thinking about me, she told herself silently, willing the hot feeling to vanish as she took down the exercises and tried solving the problems.
But her mind wouldn't work; at least, that was what she convinced herself. The artist was too tired to think of math equations filled with letters, numbers and whatnot. She slumped back on her seat, letting out a tiny, tired sigh. It felt—
Tak
Naminé wanted to scream. A third paper? Why would anyone do that to someone? They weren't in third grade anymore!
Then again, she thought she had the mind of a student at that age.
She nudged the paper under her desk and got back to her notebook, furiously scribbling.
Naminé heard the brunette somewhere behind her snort—loud and clear for the teacher to hear. Some snickered at the sound. The teacher stalked past by the girl and stood before the boy. Curious, her blue eyes sparkled as she watched the event.
"And what was that supposed to be?" the teacher demanded, her green eyes flashing, hands on her hips.
"Uh…nothing," Sora replied, yet another chuckle about to erupt if his mouth wasn't pressed together with all his effort.
Serves him right, I thought with a glimmer of triumph. Stupid person hitting me with paper…how pathetic.
And then the bell rang. Obviously, the teacher had to go back to the table and read her cards, announcing the assignments for the weekend. The class groaned, then she dismissed them all. Eager students clogged the doorway.
"Uh…Naminé?"
Upon hearing her own name, she looked up and zipped her bag shut. Her heart leapt. "Yeah, that's me." Stupid is me, she sighed inwardly.
"Would you…" he scratched the back of his blond head, shifting from one foot to the other. Apparently, he felt as awkward as she did. "Well, see, I know it was so wrong to keep hitting you with all those paper, but I didn't know how to just pass a note since anyone could read it," he burbled. "And I think you were getting pissed and all but the question was killing me!"
She glared at him—or at least, she tried to. "You kept hitting me with notes or something?" was all she could manage. "But…but why?"
Her penetrating gaze made him look away. Suddenly, he didn't want to do this anymore. Why in the world did the school not have trapdoors anywhere? "Would you…" he couldn't. He just plain couldn't say it but he had to—she was expecting him to. Would he like to make a fool out of himself in front of her again?
No.
"Goonadatewithme," he said, looking at the floor.
God.
It took her a few seconds to let it sink in her mind. She had to play it slowly. She caught the words, but she had to decipher it. A smile played on her lips. "What's the catch?"
"Huh?"
"It's something too good to be true, and the most popular guy in school wouldn't talk to a nobody like me."
"I'm just a nobody too," he protested, feeling at ease. He grinned back at her.
"Sure then," the girl said and slung her bag behind her back, flashing him a smile. "But I doubt others would actually call you a nobody."
"Maybe I'll be now?"
She shrugged, heading towards the door. "Is that an insult?" she asked him.
"I don't know what you call it," he replied, blocking the door and smiling down at her. "But at least we'll be together, right?"
o0o
Wow. I wrote this oneshot months ago and now it's rotting in our computer. I only finished it now since I didn't get to post the next chapter of the story yet. I kind of forgot about it, actually. Busy playing Zelda: Twilight Princess.