They had just sort of appeared one day. Out of the blue, with no introduction and a few months into the school year. Misaki's first thought when he saw them was that they looked fragile. Unapproachable. Beautiful. Like a piece of art that couldn't be touched, only to be viewed from the outside. He wanted to say hello, but they looked so fragile.
"Isn't he so handsome?" a girl near Misaki whispered to her friend. "Where did he come from?"
"Nobody knows," the friend whispered back. "Nobody even knows his name."
"But he's so handsome, how could that be?"
"Let's introduce ourselves then. He and that girl probably need some friends."
They made their way over to them.
No, Misaki thought as he watched them. You can't. You'll break them.
"Um, hi," the girl said, her face flushing red. "M-my name's Suzuki Kimiko, and this is my friend, Yamaguchi Chiori. What are your names?"
It had only taken one look. He had looked up, his icy blue eyes piercing them. They wandered off after that and Misaki breathed a sigh of relief.
After that, they had been left alone. No one had dared approach them, though Misaki still heard fawning whispers in the classroom and the corridor. He wanted to say hello to them but like the rest he was too scared. He enjoyed the safety of observing them from afar.
They would arrive early, before anyone else. Read before class, sometimes she seemed to be sketching, or he would be writing. They would eat lunch alone and in silence. More than once he had been tempted to ask, 'Hey, would you like to eat with me?' They were quiet in class. Never called upon to answer a question or write on the board. The teachers would hardly acknowledge them. They would help with cleaning the classroom but joined no afterschool clubs. They would then walk off in the direction of the train station.
So beautiful. So fragile.
It was the burning desire to talk to them, to break the golden rule of observe only, no touching, that brought Misaki to breaking point.
It had been like any other morning. Misaki had walked into the classroom, forcing himself to look at the floor. He sat down, unpacked his books and checked that he had all his homework. It was only then that he would reward himself. It was a glance at first, then he turned, pretending to stretch, and gave himself a longer look. But it was on this second look that he spotted something different.
Where was she? At this time, she was usually sitting on his desk, reading quietly. She wasn't there though. He was still sitting at his desk in corner, book out, turning the page every so often, but she wasn't.
This was the first time he thought that he looked lonely.
Fragile. Unapproachable. Beautiful. Lonely.
He wasn't quite sure why or how, but the next thing Misaki knew was that he was standing up and walking over to him. He stopped in front of the desk, feeling his face turn red. He looked up, not with an icy glare, but surprise.
"H-hi," Misaki said, finding it hard to swallow. He didn't say anything so Misaki continued, "My name's Takahashi Misaki."
"Why are you talking to me?"
The question hadn't been asked in a condescending way, like Misaki expected. It hadn't been asked in a cold manner, like Misaki expected. It had been asked in a quiet, gentle voice that was genuinely curious. It was at this that Misaki felt his ears burning.
"You seemed lonely."