so, how are things on the nozaki front? ;) Hori texts Sakura late at night, curled up on the couch in his pajamas with a mug of cheap Walmart hot cocoa.
His phone pings in a matter of milliseconds. not bad.
that's it? nothing happened?
well, we did go shopping together yesterday.
no way! for what?
...lingerie.
His eyes bug out of their sockets. He fumbles to call her (speed dial 1) and waits with bated breath; she picks up on the second ring. "You shopped for- what?! Sakura!"
"It's not what it sounds like, I swear!" she protests, sounding panicked. "You know he draws manga, right? Well, he just needed to buy something for visual reference and asked me for my input, and before I really thought it through, I was sitting in his Prius and we were parking in front of Victoria's Secret and he kept shoving bras and thongs and lacy underwear in my face and all of the salesgirls were laughing at me and oh God, it was a nightmare."
"And? What happened after that?" he demands.
She whimpers, sounding absolutely mortified. "He asked me to model for him."
Hori gasps. No fucking way. "Chiyo Sakura, do not tell me you said yes."
"Of course I didn't!" Sakura exclaims, shrill. "Do you think I wanted him to see me naked?"
Sweet, sweet relief crashes down on him. "Oh, thank God," he sighs. "I would have died if you lost your virginity before me. I mean, having sexy thoughts about you is sort of like having sexy thoughts about my two-year-old cousin."
He can almost see her wrinkling her nose at him. "Gee, thanks for the support, Hori."
"No problem. Just one of the many services of my friendship," he quips.
Sakura heaves a sigh. "Anyways, enough about me. How are things on the Kashima front?" Her voice takes on a teasing tone, and his ears go pink.
"Nothing of importance," he says hurriedly.
If he knows her as well as he thinks he does, she's definitely quirking an eyebrow at the other end of the line. "Hori," she says warningly. God, that girl is just way too good at reading him.
"Okay, okay, you win." He sighs, and begins to tell her everything, from the late night in the rain to counting the freckles on her cheeks. "So, she's sitting on top of me, and when I look up, she's super, super close-"
"So you kissed her?" Sakura gasps.
"No, of course not! But...it was really weird," Hori confesses.
"Did you want to?" she asks. He can picture her greedy curiosity, pursed lips and widened eyes.
"Honestly, Sakura? I really don't know." He leans back into the plush of his secondhand sofa, running his fingers through his hair. "I mean, I definitely don't like her. Seriously, me, liking Kashima? That's a recipe for trouble. And you know how I hate trouble."
Hori thinks of her damnable green eyes, the way they pierce into him and suck out his soul and make him so utterly uncomfortable and read him like he's transparent, breaking apart the the defenses he's been putting up all of these years like they're nothing.
"Funny, theater majors tend to be the opposite," Sakura remarks, slightly acidic.
"A gross stereotype," Hori dismisses, because that's the absolute last thing he wants to think about. "If that's everything, then we really should-"
"Wait, wait!" Sakura all but shrieks into his phone. "One more thing! You know Yukari Miyako, right? Senior in my sculpture class?"
"Vaguely, yeah. What about her?"
"She's starting a support group for...lonely people who don't really feel like they have anybody to talk to, and since the first meeting's tomorrow, wanna come with me?" she says breathlessly.
"So you're calling me a misfit?" Hori raises an eyebrow. "Thanks a lot."
"No, no, that's not it at all!" she protests. "It's just that, you know, I thought it would be really good for you to make some more friends! Not that I mind being your best friend, of course- it's just that it's nice, sometimes, to have more people to rely on."
"Let me get this straight: you want me to play shrink and talk about my problems with some crackpots crazy enough to actually take this shit seriously?" He snorts. "Not a chance. Don't lump me in with them, Sakura."
"Please, Hori! Can't you at least come to keep me company?" He can perfectly picture her best puppy face, watery eyes and puckered lips; he's been on the receiving end of it too many times not to. "It's my birthday soon, remember?"
Hori sighs, mulling it over in his mind, but gives in eventually, because when has he ever been able to say no to Sakura? "Alright, fine. But under one condition."
"Yes, yes, anything!" He can practically see her victory dance.
"You better make the best fucking latte for me tomorrow morning," Hori says sternly, before slamming the end-call button and throwing his cellphone onto the floor. He heaves a sigh, slouching back into the sofa.
Something tells him he's really gonna regret this later.
"Hey," Hori says, leaning against the doorframe. "What's up?"
But Sakura only manages a feeble bleat in reply, her hands clutching her face in utter mortification. "Kill me now," she whispers, halfway to a sob, and points a tremulous finger to the back of the room.
"Sakura, what on earth-?" Hori stops, because dwarfing his tiny desk is none other than Umetarou Nozaki in all of his glory, fervently doodling in his omnipresent notebook. "Oh, fuck."
"He must have seen Miyako hand me the flyer," she whimpered. "Hori, what am I gonna do?"
"I'd recommend making a run for it," he suggests, perking up, "and while you're at it, take me with you." He starts edging out of the room, but she lashes out at him, snatching his wrist and tugging him back inside.
"Don't you fucking dare," she hisses, shoving him into a chair. "You promised, Hori."
Of course, Yukari Miyako chooses that moment to come sweeping in, effectively doing away with his only means of escape. She beams at all of them, oblivious to his exasperation, and tucks a strand of loose hair behind her hot pink headband, lavender skirt swishing around her ankles. "Welcome to the group, everyone! Thank you so much for coming!"
Finally resigned to his fate, Hori leans back in his chair, surveying the motley of students. Next to Nozaki is a skinny ginger slouching in his seat and not-so-discreetly rifling through the pages of a shoujo manga. A closet otaku, maybe? He stifles a snicker.
To his right is an unpleasant-looking brunette with what seems to be a permanent scowl etched onto her face, currently beadily eyeing the freshman boy besides her. Hori has to sympathize with the poor bastard- he looks terrified out of his wits, edging away from her and looking pointedly at the carpet.
All in all, a room of basket cases.
Miyako glances at her watch, frowning. "Hm. We're still waiting on-"
The door is flung open with a bang. "Sorry I'm late!" Kashima says breathlessly, panting heavily. "Did I miss anything?"
Hori's jaw goes slack; it takes a particularly painful jab to the ribs from Sakura to jerk him back to reality. Only then does Kashima notice him, her eyes widening, then flickering away. She's remarkably quick on the recovery, managing a disarming smile at Miyako and flouncing to the seat across from him.
What is she doing here?
"Oh, no, not at all!" Miyako chirps. "Actually, we were just about to get started!"
The brunette belched loudly, causing the freshman to flinch.
"So, first order of business: introductions! I'd like everyone to say their names, and um, how they're feeling today," she said brightly. "Who would like to begin?"
"Chiyo Sakura!" Sakura chirped. "I feel great, but a little sad, I guess- the guy I like doesn't seem to notice anything I do, no matter how much I try." She puts on a brave face, her bottom lip trembling. "It's discouraging, yeah, but I won't give up!"
Even so, Nozaki remains impassive. "Seems like too much trouble. Why do you bother with a guy like that anyways?"
Sakura looks as though she's on the verge of tears; Nozaki most helpfully pushes the box of tissues closer to her.
"So, moving on!" Miyako says hastily, turning to Nozaki. "Why don't you go next?"
"Umetarou Nozaki," he says, reliably blasé as always. "I am in desperate need to receive inspiration for my manga. I simply cannot rest until I have done so. Thus far, my efforts in procuring models has failed-" cue the pointed look at Sakura "-but if any of you are interested, please contact me." Completely deadpan, he begins passing out business cards.
"A sales pitch!" Sakura whimpers.
Hori barely stifles a snicker, ducking under the table to recompose himself.
"Your tenacity is very admirable, Nozaki," Miyako says weakly. "Next, please."
The brunette snorts, kicking her feet onto the table. "Yuzuki Seo," she grunts. "I'm doing awesome, thank you very much. I'm just such a perfect person, really. No wonder everyone steers clear of me!" She lets out a maniac laugh, her eyes bulging out of their sockets. "Too much perfection can be intimidating, you know?"
The freshman looks as though he wants nothing more than to argue, but a pointed look from Seo promptly shuts him up.
What a fucking weirdo, Hori thinks, watching her pick at her cuticles.
"Um, Hirotaka Wakamatsu," he stammers, wringing out his hands. "I've been having trouble sleeping lately, so I'm a little on edge, but it's all good. I'm very anxious, if you can't already tell."
Yeah, no kidding. He and Sakura exchange a meaningful look.
The ginger snaps back to attention, hiding his manga behind his back. "Mikoto Mikoshiba!" His eyes twinkle, and he leaps to his feet, extending a hand out to Kashima. "But you can call me your majesty." Within moments, he's flushed a deep red that could rival Sakura at her worst, curled up in a fetal position in the farthest corner of the room and rocking back and forth.
Completely flabbergasted, Miyako makes desperate eye contact with Hori.
"Masayuki Hori," Hori mutters, sinking further into his chair. "And I'm okay, I guess."
"He's been having some family issues," Sakura adds sagely, speaking over the mournful brays Mikoshiba has begun to emit.
It takes every ounce of his self-control to keep himself from strangling her. "That, too," he concedes.
Miyako cocks her head to the side, her brow crinkling in concern. "Care to elaborate, Hori?"
"They don't exactly...approve of my career choice," Hori says delicately, giving a minimal shrug of his shoulders. "So yeah. I drowning in student debt, my parents sort of despise me, and things are hard right now, but what can you do?" He's aiming for indifferent, but it most likely comes out bitter, jaded, miserable.
"Well, just know that we're here for you, Hori!" Miyako says brightly. "Say it with me, everyone!"
"We're here for you," everyone choruses. Hori pointedly avoids Kashima's piercing gaze, hating her curiosity, her innocence, the questions so visible in those green, green eyes. Hating, hating, hating.
"Hi, everyone, I'm Yuu Kashima!" she trills, cheery as ever, grinning crookedly from ear to ear. "And I'm doing grand! Let's see: well, rehearsal's been crazy, and I'm swamped with lines right now, so it's kinda overwhelming, but I'm fine!"
Bullshit.
Their eyes meet, dull brown to brilliant green, and he knows she knows it, too.
Fine is not stumbling blindly around in the pouring rain a quarter to midnight. Fine is not red-rimmed eyes and trembling fingers that squeeze your hand and beg you to forget.
Hori hates how much he wants to unravel her, figure her out like she's a jigsaw puzzle, thousands of scattered pieces across a hardwood floor, hates how much he fucking cares.
"A small French vanilla cappuccino, please."
Hori whips around, dropping the box of tea bags he'd been arranging with a clatter. He can only gape.
Kashima's standing sheepishly before him, wrapped up in a navy blue raincoat, the tip of her nose buried into her scarf. As anxious as he's ever seen her, she fidgets, just barely managing an apologetic smile.
As much as he wants to turn her down, he forces himself to nod.
"Coming right up," Hori says in a monotone, reaching for a cup.
She hesitates. "Hey, about yesterday-"
"Don't ask, and I won't either, okay? It's really none of your business," he says sharply, pouring the espresso inside and topping it with a thick layer of creamy milk. He can't really bring himself to care when she winces, biting her lip. Tracing a messy heart in the foam, he snaps the lid on and hands it to her. "That'll be five hundred yen."
Kashima cradles the cup to her chest, sliding a ten thousand yen bill across the counter. "Keep the change."
Before he can protest, she's out the door, leaving only a gust of misty wind behind her.
"Introducing my brand new project!" Miyako warbles. "Since we can't meet all the time, and you might someone else to talk to in private when we can't all get together like this, I'm launching the angel program!"
Hori grimly nibbles at his glazed donut, bracing himself for the impact.
"Think of it this way: two total strangers, partnered together to make each other's lives better. Instead of facing your struggles alone, you'll have someone to lean on, someone to make an emergency call to. You never know, that stranger could end up becoming your best friend! Doesn't that just sound great?" She pauses, waiting expectantly for their reaction.
Seo yawns, Wakamatsu blanches, and Mikoshiba continues to fondle his shoujo figurines under the table.
All in all, a normal day in the club.
Clearing her throat, Miyako begins passing around a bucket filled with tiny slips of paper. "Remember, the person with the same number as you is your partner!"
Seo, two. Wakamatsu, also two. She leers at him, and he gulps.
Well, at least she's out of the way, Hori thinks, thanking God for his good fortune.
Mikoshiba, four. Kashima, one. Sakura, three.
Please be Sakura, please be Sakura, he thinks desperately, over and over again, squeezing his eyes shut as he sticks his hand into the hat, shuffling the remaining three papers around. Plucking one up, he practically tears it open.
One.
A heartbreaking one.
Actually, fuck you, God.
And Kashima has the temerity to look surprised, her eyes widening, her lips puckering into a little "o."
But then again, when had fortune ever been on his side?
Nozaki reaches into the hat and pulls out his paper, reads it out without so much as batting an eye. "Three," he deadpans.
Sakura lets out a moan that sounds vaguely like the mating call of a bullfrog, face-planting into her desk to hide her mortification. Even so, the tips of her ears are quickly turning a red even deeper than that of her signature bow.
"I'm dead," she blubbers, so only he can hear. "I am so fucked."
Hori pats her reassuringly on the back, but it's hard to conjure up any sympathy for her, considering the predicament he's in.
Kashima, his angel. Kashima, the one he's supposed to rely on.
Absolutely absurd. He's never heard anything so laughable in his entire life.
Seemingly oblivious, Miyako claps her hands together, beaming. "That makes us partners, Mikoshiba!"
Mikoshiba mumbles incoherently, slouching so far in his chair only the tufts of his red hair are visible over the table. Hori smirks in spite of himself, drumming his fingers against the table, because this is just too goddamn funny, isn't it?
"Since we don't know each other very well, let's get together and ask each other some questions!" Miyako says. "Well, everyone! Chop chop!"
Disgruntled, he trudges to the opposite side of the table, sinking into the seat besides Kashima, who's still looking a little dazed. She manages a fleeting smile at him, all shiny white teeth and lips stretched a bit too tautly to be genuine, lets out a tinkling laugh. "Well, this is quite the coincidence, isn't it?"
"Coincidence," Hori grumbles, hating the shape of the word on his lips. "Sure."
"So, family problems?" Kashima starts, genial. "I never would've guessed."
"Really? I thought it was obvious. I spend half of my life in the coffee shop, after all," he says grimly, tugging at his shirtsleeve.
"I'm the same," Kashima says quietly.
Hori flicks his gaze lazily to his left, watching as Sakura stutters, fisting her hands in her skirt, blushing the color of the sunset. "Last I checked, you don't spend half your-"
"The family problems, I mean."
Hori raises an eyebrow at her. "That doesn't sound very fine to me." He stretches out the word, letting it loll against his tongue. He's aware of how annoying he's being, on par with Sakura on her naggiest of days, but somehow, he can't bring himself to care.
She winces. "I thought we weren't gonna talk about it."
He smirks, cocking his head to the side. "Oh? But you started it."
Kashima takes a wheezy breath, exhales slowly. "Only child?" she tries again.
"Duh. Can't you see how charmingly self-involved I am?" Hori quips. "No wonder my parents hate me so much."
"I don't get how you can be so...I don't know, flippant about it. Like you don't care. Like your life is some funny tragedy." The words are so biting, so vicious, so un-Kashima, he's nearly struck speechless.
"I piss you off?" Hori snarls. "Don't even get me started on you, Kashima. Little Miss Sunshine, skipping through the meadow and smiling and blowing kisses and pretending everything is fine. Oh, rehearsal's been great! Oh, everything's just fucking dandy!"
By this time, the room's dead silent, everyone's gaze fixated on them.
But still, he can't bring himself to care.
"Shut up," Kashima grinds out.
"What, gonna call Mommy on me?" Hori jeers. "Gonna send your army of maids from Bel-Air to come feather-dust me? Because I dare you, Kashima. I fucking dare you."
This seems to be Sakura's breaking point. Leaping to her feet, she loops her arm around his and frog-marches him out of the room, her grip iron tight. When they're finally out of the room, standing in the deserted corridor, she slams him against the nearest locker. "What the fuck is your problem?"
"You're on her side?" Hori protests. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Oh, don't pull that cutesy bullshit with me!" she hisses. "You did a shitty thing, Hori, and all you can do is get on the fucking defensive like a fucking idiot?"
"I think that's the most I've heard you curse in one sentence," he quips, in spite of himself.
Sakura releases him, throwing her hands up in the air. "See what I mean? That's exactly your problem. You're so overly anal when you don't need to be, but when you fuck up, you crack your stupidly morbid jokes, pretend like it doesn't bother you at all. You know what that's called, Hori? Running away."
Hori heaves a sigh, running his fingers sheepishly through his hair. "I know, Sakura. I know. But I can't help it sometimes, you know?"
Sakura softens, ever-so-slightly. "Fine, but just know-" she jabs a finger in his face -"you will apologize. You will hunt her down after the meeting, and you will apologize. Am I clear?"
"Extremely," Hori mumbles.
"Great. Thank God that's over. Lecturing really is not my forte." She puffs out her cheeks. "Come on, I'm taking you down to the caf. God knows we both need some caffeine."