"Oh, you make me smile…
"Please take a seat, (l/n)," the teacher was instructing you. His words flew over your head.
You knew you were staring. You couldn't stop.
What the fuck is Hayato doing here?
The said male was watching you through narrowed olive irises. For a long moment, neither of you did anything.
Then he turned away with a huffed breath, like he couldn't believe why you were looking at him.
Despite yourself, irritation bubbled in your chest. "Cocky bastard," you muttered under your breath.
"I'm sorry?"
With a jolt, you realized the teacher was still standing beside you, and he had just heard what you'd said. "Th-that's not—I mean—well—"
"I can already tell we are going to have a great year, (l/n)," he said sarcastically. You knew you should apologize, but you were sure he wouldn't accept it. "Now, take a seat, will you? Class has started."
There weren't many open seats. A couple of empty ones were in the very back row. Two or three of them were next to some other students. You decided that the back row seemed very appealing, especially since you didn't want to have to talk to anyone. You took a step forward before the teacher said, "(L/n), sit next to Yamamoto."
"Oh! Right here!" A hand waved energetically in the air. You connected the hand with a body and found that it belonged to the grinning caramel-eyed boy.
With only one glance, you knew your hopes of staying silent were shattered. Yamamoto seemed to be the talkative type. Well, he looked friendly enough.
You shuffled over and plopped down in your seat. Once you were seated, the teacher returned to his lesson about some classic literature book.
"I'm Yamamoto Takeshi," said the male next to you. He extended a hand. "Nice to meet you!"
You looked from his hand to his face. What was he trying to pull? "Hi," you responded slowly.
He held his hand out for another moment, but when you didn't make any move to shake it, he pulled back with a slightly baffled look. "You mentioned you were from Italy, right? So do you happen to know Gokudera?"
Your stomach tensed at the name. Oh, you knew Gokudera. Didn't mean you liked him. But could you tell that to Yamamoto?
You made a split-second decision and answered with, "Never heard of him."
"Really? Too bad," Yamamoto laughed quietly. "I'm sure you guys have common interests and stuff."
"Uh-huh." Nope.
"Yamamoto!" snapped the teacher. "Pay attention!"
"Hai, sorry."
You rummaged through your back pack, searching for the required book. As you did, you used your bangs as a cover-up to examine Gokudera from where he was sitting. He was a row up and over, near the window and that dreamy-eyed brunette.
He was seated in a manner that said he was supremely bored: his feet were kicked up on his desk, and he had his arms up behind his head leisurely. His head was tipped back, eyes shut. Like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
For as long as you could remember, he had always been like that. Arrogant. Condescending. As if he was better than everyone else.
The initial shock of seeing him was gradually wearing off, to the point where rational thoughts ran through your mind.
He'd vanished nine years ago.
You hadn't expected to see him ever again.
You had desperately wished you wouldn't run into him.
You'd suffered throughout your entire childhood because of him.
Fear was settling in your bones. Judging by his earlier smirk, he remembered you. But maybe, you told yourself, maybe he didn't. Maybe he was just acting superior because he had caught you staring at him. After all, with killer features like those, he was bound to have many fan girls.
Yeah…maybe Hayato's forgotten about me.
"Hey, (l/n)?"
A voice shattered your thoughts. You whipped your head to the side and found Yamamoto looking at you.
"If you need help with anything, I'm here," he offered graciously, speaking just above a whisper. "I hope we can be friends, you know."
At a loss for words, you were taken aback.
You'd gone twelve years without someone to call your friend. And here this strange caramel-eyed boy with an infectious grin was asking for friendship?
Who did he think he was?
Suspicion kicked in. He was trying to hurt you. Of course. He was planning something…
But his eyes were open and honest. There was no way someone with such clear eyes could be a back-stabber.
He's not like the others.
Against your will, your lips were responding to his grin with a smile of their own. You dropped it quickly and looked away, murmuring, "Sure. I'll remember it."
"Awesome," he replied with genuine happiness.
Maybe your mother had been right. Maybe Namimori was the place for a fresh start.
