Aha. I feel like I should put something here. Well...
Enjoy~
Tsukishima looked sheepishly down at me and held out his schedule.
I glared at him, then the schedule, then back at him. "What do you want me to do with that?"
He shrugged and looked down at his shoes.
"Did you forget where you classes are?" I inquired.
He looked at me again and then nodded sadly. I rolled my eyes and look over the clock. 7:45.
I needed to get to class anyway. I shook my head and grabbed his hand. He flinched when I touched him, but let me hold it. I began dragging him down the hallway towards my classroom.
I was more than a little angry that I could think of nothing besides how warm and soft his hands were.
When we reached my classroom, I unlocked my door and let all of my students in. The day went by normally, aside from the fact that I had to cart Tsukishima around to his classes. Again.
It wasn't until lunch break- Tsukishima decided that he was gonna eat with me too; the parasite- that I realized that the fact that he couldn't remember the rooms he had been in just yesterday may have something to do with his amnesia.
"Hey."
Tsukishima looked up from the package of melon bread he was in the middle of opening and gave me a doe-eyed stare.
"What do you remember about yesterday?"
His face reddened and he pointed a finger at me. I was tempted to remind him about the rudeness of pointing, but I held back.
"Are you protesting something?"
He looked surprised and tilted his head like a confused puppy.
"You don't talk. Is this a 'until those starving kids in Africa get a voice, I won't speak either' kind of thing?"
The confusion on his face didn't dissipate, but he shrugged and took a bit into his bread. He began nibbling slowly at it. Like a bunny. But not as cute. Never as cute.
I decided not to give up on conversation, "Do you remember anything about your classes yesterday?"
His red-eyes met mine mid-nibble. He nodded.
"Do you remember homeroom?"
He nodded.
"My English class?"
Nod.
"Math class?"
He looked like he was about the nod, but then changed his mind and shook his head 'no'.
"Hmm... My Japanese class?"
He nodded again.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I could see exactly where this is going.
"Science?"
Shake.
"Teacher Assisting with me."
Nod.
"So you want me to believe you remember all of my classes, but none of the other ones." It was laughable really. And since when do memories work that way?
He nods his head once more.
I wouldn't let him win this. "If you remember my classes, why couldn't you find it this morning?"
He shrugged and shook his head.
I wanted answers, but it looked like I was going to have to pursue this later. I turned my attention to my own lunch and ignored the red-eyed boy to the best of my ability.
That afternoon, as I walked the red-eyed teen home, I asked for his phone number- not because I wanted to chat with him; just because I wanted Psyche off my back. But of course, nothing is ever easy when it comes to this kid.
"What's your cell number?"
Tsukishima turned his head toward me and gave me that characteristic blank look of his.
I was getting exasperated, "You know, cell phone? Like a telephone, but mobile."
He stared for a moment before shaking his blond head.
"I can't have it?"
He waved his arms frantically and shook his head in a way that said I had the wrong idea.
I couldn't help but sigh dramatically, "Are you telling me you don't have one? How old are you again?"
His face flushed and he began watching his feet as we walked.
I could see the wheels turn in his head as we made it to his apartment door. He pulled a key out of his pocket and opened it, gesturing for me to follow him inside. I decided to humor him and went in.
He left the living room and came back a few minutes later with a sheet of paper in his hand. He handed the paper to me and on it was written, 'Tsugaru-nii-san' followed by a phone number.
I glanced at the paper, "You're gonna use his phone? Are you allowed to?"
He nodded enthusiastically before gesturing towards his kitchen.
"No, I don't want anything. I need to get going."
And with that, I left.
That night, I stared at the phone number for a long while. I wondered who would answer if I called at the moment: Tsugaru or Tsukishima.
I stroked the numbers gently before realizing how I was acting. When the hell did I turn into a teenage girl?
Contemplating this, I allowed my brows to furrow.
The most I could ever feel for that boy is brotherly affection. And I'm not an affectionate guy. This whatever-I'm-feeling is probably just my reaction to something new. Yes. That's it.
With that settled in my mind, I placed the numbered paper on my nightstand. It was strange. I couldn't stop staring at it. I could hardly contain myself. I fought the urge to grab my cell and dial until I managed to drift to sleep.
