every now and then the stars align
College AU: Amane and Nene are reluctant seatmates, but not for long.
There is a stranger in front of her. There is a headphone wearing stranger with black unkempt hair and dark circles under his eyes right where he shouldn't be.
She hears footsteps coming up the stairs behind her and a grunt of contempt tells Nene that she's in someone's way. She hesitantly shuffles to the side so a group of girls can make their way to some more seats. Her eyes are still fixated on the two person seat in the lecture hall and the stranger with a bad case of shaky leg occupying it.
At long last the dark haired fellow catches her staring and squints one eye in a can I help you? manner.
"That's my seat," Nene manages to utter. She tugs at her braid.
The headphones come off in an aloof fashion. "There are like fifty different seats still free." The stillness in his voice coupled with his arms crossed over his chest gives her the impression of boredom.
She exhales softly, fully picking at her hair band now. She wants to tell him that this seat is hers! It is tried and tested to be the seat that is the perfect distance to see Professor Tsuchigomori while obscuring anyone seeing her radish ankles–which sounds ridiculous, she knows, but is absolutely, unequivocally, a hundred percent true. This seat is a manifestation of leaving tutorial early all semester so she could get here to claim this nice two-seater with extra space to prop her bag up.
Instead what comes out is: "You don't understand. This is my seat. I always sit here."
He opens his mouth in reply before a clunk is heard and he turns his attention down the lecture hall where the Professor has just entered. He shakes his head instead. "Listen, the lecture is gonna start soon. Just sit down."
Nene purses her lips, slowly sliding into the seat next to him as she wills her eyes not to water. She feels all sense of established security vanish from within her. She just knows she won't be able to sit here next class. She can just imagine having to brave the crowd again, having to weave through row after row of seats, asking beautiful, intimidating, non-radish looking girls if she can sit next to them only to be shut down as everyone has already made friends.
She didn't even want to be in this Philosophy class. She had wanted to take a writing class. She was supposed to be in a writing class. Nene used to love writing. She remembers all the poems she would write in high school, all the imaginary stories of her happily-ever-afters with modern day princes that graced her notebook. She remembers penning epic tales of romance and intrigue, with horse-drawn carriages and bishounens with golden hair and haloed perfection.
But day by day, crush after crush, heartbreak after heartbreak, it appeared as though her words were running dry. It was like her mind refused to cooperate. Every time she picked up a pen it seemed like painting with a muted palette. When she made this realization, Nene had freaked out and transferred out of the class to what limited free blocks were still available. Which is how she ended up here.
She opens her notebook, trying to disperse the negative thoughts when she hears her neighbor's voice.
"Look, I'm sorry if I was rude just now. My brother's been driving me crazy, and I'm broke this month, which means I can't afford my daily dose of caffeine." He says this all quickly in a low voice.
"It's alright," she replies, not looking up from her notes, trying to end this awkward conversation as soon as possible. The stranger however, does not get the hint.
"You an Arts major?"
She nods, pursing her lips as she contemplates if it would be rude not to return the question. She concedes eventually and turns her head to properly face him. "You?"
He copies her motion and props his head up on the palm of his hand, looking straight at her. "Science," he answers, then winces, "err…at least I'm trying to be." He fidgets a little with the zipper of his hoodie, then scratches at his cheek as if embarrassed. "Astronomy was what I wanted to study, but I guess you have to be higher level to take more specialized courses." He grins in a modest manner.
For some reason, despite not really knowing him, the image of him being an astronomy nerd makes perfect sense in her mind. "Astronomy? That's really great," she says sincerely. "And you're taking a course in philosophy?" she asks, genuinely intrigued. A ghost of a smile dances across his lips for a second before it disappears, vanishing like words once smudged on fogged up mirrors.
"I thought this course would fulfill my arts requirement." He pauses, turning away from her and towards the lecture again. "I was also under the impression that this course would be interesting and an excellent grade booster." Dropping the hand previously propping up his head, he gestures vaguely in the direction of the professor. "Clearly I was wrong." A smirk is evident on his face when he glances back at her.
Nene catches the corners of her mouth turning up at the sight and hurriedly adverts her gaze to her still blank notebook. He stares at her a half second too long, after she turns away, and Nene wonders if maybe he's finally started to shake off his sleepiness and is only now wide awake.
Picking up a pen she quickly jots down a few stray ideas she hears her Professor mentioning, fully intending to resume her role in being an attentive student for the rest of class.
This plan succeeds almost all of four minutes, when she feels him lean in right against her. "I'm Amane, by the way. Yugi Amane," he says before leaning away again.
She gives him a timid smile. "I'm Yashiro Nene, nice to meet you Amane-kun." He returns her smile with a toothy grin, looking her up and down, as if assessing how well she suits the name. Nene can't help but blush a little at his blantantness. At the sight of her red cheeks, his grin erupts to a smile so large it consumes half his face, one that she swears clears up his eye bags and makes him look years younger.
He's looking at her fondly now, such a departure from his earlier frostiness it probably explains the reason her heart skips a beat.
"Well, let me tell you, Yashiro. If I have to hear Plato's name one more time, I swear I'm gonna lose my mind."
Surprisingly, she can't resist the urge to tease him. "Technically you just said it yourself."
Amane squints, his eyebrows furrowing as if contemplating whether or not to applaud her for that observation. "Starting now," he affirms. She giggles a little, trying to pick up her pen again while he pouts. "I told you, I haven't had my coffee yet."
Another laugh escapes her, and she's about to hide it when she catches him giving her a pleased look. She wants to reply but sees the professor looking straight in their direction. Immediately she drops her grin and forces her gaze to the PowerPoint. She chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip as if deep in contemplation about the material being covered.
From the corner of her eye, she sneaks a look at Amane to witness a matching somber expression planted across his countenance. The sight makes her want to laugh even harder, and her knuckles nearly turn white from the grip she has on the edge of her skirt before her professor finally resumes his lecture with the same droning voice.
Once the coast seems clear again, she draws close to him once more. "Coffee is like a dollar, you couldn't spare a dollar for the caffeine that appears to be such an essential component of your intelligence?"
"I told you! I'm broke," he whisper-yells, even rolling his eyes to prove his exasperation. "The other day I was so hungry I went to the campus café and took all those pasta stir sticks that they provide for the coffee and I just stole them all so I could go home and make myself a nice spaghetti dinner."
This time her laughter is impossible to stifle. She thinks she even snorted a little as her face crumples completely and she's lost in a fit of hysterics. She tries to bury her face into her hands as she hears Amane begin shushing her. "Do you want us both to lose this seat?" But he's laughing too, and once they're both laughing it proves impossible to stop.
"Ahem." This time the Professor is directly addressing them, landing his cold purple eyes on the now fidgeting pair in unamusement. She sobers up instantly. No matter how charming her seatmate has turned out to be, she still can't risk getting kicked out of class. She turns to give him a look at the same time he turns to shrug at her in a boyish way, as if saying what can you do? A blush tints her cheeks and she returns to her abandoned notes.
And for the first time since she's been here, she feels different. She feels like maybe she could be different. And it's a very foreign sense of calm that washes over her—like what dry sands on a hot beach might feel like when suddenly enveloped by an ocean wave.
Her pen is finally moving across the page again when she feels it. His leg bumps against hers to rest peacefully beside her stocking covered one. Her eyes travel sideways, wondering if the action had been intentional. However, for the first time since she's looked in his direction Amane's eyes are not on her and instead, he's looking suspiciously engrossed in the lecture, not even flinching when the name Plato was repeated once more.
And Nene just knows this is enough to sink her again.
So he's not prince charming. Maybe his hair doesn't give off an angelic glow when he speaks, and is instead ruffled and ridden with bedhead. Maybe his smile isn't so much gentle as it is a wolfish smirk. Maybe he gets cranky without coffee, and likes stars rather than horse drawn carriages.
Maybe even after all these years, it's ludicrous she's still falling so easily.
But she can't help it. She can see the dim light of the lecture hall somehow manage to cast a hazel glow to his golden eyes, and there's a soft blush on his cheeks. The sight leaves her so breathless that for the first time in ages, she feels like maybe she does have more words inside her. Maybe there is poetry to be composed about the crinkles that grace his face when he laughs. Maybe there could be stories in every strand of untamed hair he possesses.
So she reaches out and intertwines their hands together in a move so bold, a trail of goosebumps wake on her skin. And it is when she feels the rough calluses of his hand engulf her smaller hand–when she swears she can feel the faint hint of a distant heartbeat–does Nene finally allow herself to fall again.
So she does.
Notes: Thank you for reading, and also thank you to everyone who left lovely comments on because ours are the moments i play in the dark. I promise the sequel for that is coming. It's only taking such a long time because I am incapable of writing plot. So far all of it is fluff. But I am in self-isolation, so sooner or later it will get written. In the meantime I might write a sequel for this one too… because why not? So let me know if you guys would be up for a sequel.
PS: As a broke uni student, I have totally done the thing where I took all the pasta stir sticks from the cafe to make dinner.