Happy April! Anyone care to guess what Ema's research is about?
Kuroo wore what could only be described as a 'shit-eating' grin as he unlocked the door to his apartment. Today had gone much better than he had anticipated and not even the bickering from his roommates could dampen his spirits.
"I won last round so you have to wash the dishes this time."
"You suck at washing, there's always food left on the plates, fucker!"
"Shut up! I wash just fine."
"Hey! Either get a room or shut up." Kuroo barked. He loved his roommates, dearly, but they could be a handful at the best of times.
"Kuroo, tell Yaku that he sucks at washing." The lanky silver-haired man pointed an accusatory finger at his friend.
"Hey! It's Lev's fault for not clearing his plate fully." Retorted Yaku, flapping his arms wildly in protest. Kuroo rolled his eyes, a grin still plastered on his face.
Kuroo's roommates, Haiba Lev and Yaku Morisuke, friends from his high school days, were good guys. Really, they were. They also had the bad habit of being the biggest pain in Kuroo's side most days. Lev worked as a bartender at some dive bar near campus and Yaku held down the only respectable job amongst the three of them as a member of the university's volleyball team training staff. It was volleyball that had brought the friends together back in high school, and the bonds of teammate-ship extended well after their careers as players ended.
"You look happy." Lev cocked his head to the side to better see his friend's wide smile and amused eyes.
"I think I made a friend today." Kuroo replied teasingly. "Or, at least I hope." He waggled his eyebrows and opened the fridge to grab a drink. He wanted to relax and enjoy the memory of his encounter with history girl.
Her presence had caught him off guard. He almost mistook her for a student before recognizing her commanding presence as an authority figure, even if she was barely five feet tall. When she announced her class as world history, it erased every stereotype in Kuroo's mind of crusty old men in tweed blazers. I guess history can be sexy. The moment she called him out as mistaken about his room assignment, Kuroo knew she would be fun to tease, and with her light brown hair and green eyes, he didn't mind the thought of that one bit. He had let her win their little battle over the classroom, if only to see her self-satisfied smile, but also because he now possessed a powerful weapon. Information.
And once Kuroo had a taste, it was very difficult for him to repress the feeling of wanting more.
It had taken him a while to find the history department, it wasn't in a part of campus he frequented. The building was old. Like, really old, and sported aging brick walls covered in climbing ivy and moss. It looked fantastical, as if out of some storybook about an abandoned castle. The building's directory had led him to the basement where Sonoda's office would be. It looked nothing like the sleek offices in the chemistry building. The linoleum floor was cracked and there was a distinct musty smell that permeated the hallway. No wonder she was reluctant to give up that nice classroom, he smirked to himself. He wasn't sure how the offices would be set up and tested the waters with a knock on the door. A grey-haired man opened the door, puzzled at the presence of another person. Kuroo chuckled to himself as he noticed the man's face turn a soft shade of pink. He was glad to see that he could still have that effect on people. Not that Kuroo was vain, well only a little, but a healthy ego rested within close proximity to healthy confidence. If there was one thing that Kuroo knew he possessed, it was confidence.
"I need to drop something off for Sonoda-sensei." He flashed his best smile, pleased when the man at the door went even more red in the face.
"O-oh, uh, she's at lunch but you can leave it on her desk." The man opened the door fully and walked Kuroo over to a group of cubicles along the back wall. "Here's her desk." He pointed to his left and sat back in his chair, which made a loud cracking sound which startled Kuroo. The grey-haired man hadn't seemed surprised, though. Kuroo took in the sight of her cubicle. The shelf above the desk was bowing under the weight of countless books. Her laptop sat center stage on the desk, opened up to a seemingly endless to-do list. He couldn't suppress the small laugh as he eyed the carnivorous plant next to her cup of pens and highlighters. But what really made him curious was the very real looking owl that sat perched atop the wall that divided her cubicle with the grey man's. That was definitely a puzzle Kuroo wanted to solve.
He checked his watch—only a few minutes before his bus was due. He dropped the folded papers onto the keyboard of her laptop and sauntered out of the history department's basement. Your move, history girl.
"Well, whatever shit you stirred, it seems to have put you in a good mood so I'm not going to complain." Kuroo's lazy reminiscing was brought back down to earth by Yaku's noncommittal response.
"Just don't let it bite you in the ass!" Lev added. "I'm headed to work so, uh, sorry about the dishes Yaku." The taller of the two stuck his tongue out teasingly as he grabbed his jacket and left the apartment and his seething, much shorter, roommate behind.
##
"You're in one bad mood, Em-chan." A pair of brown eyes peeked over the cubicle wall to Ema's right.
"Sorry Yacchan." Ema smiled apologetically at her other cubicle-mate. "Campus scheduling messed up and double-booked my discussion section room today. I had to fight off the STEM dogs for it."
"That's rough. It's bad enough that they get all the funding." Suga rolled his eyes as Yachi enthusiastically nodded along. "Oh! Why don't we grab a commiseration drink from Carl's tonight?"
"Okay, but just one. I have to prep for my meeting with Dr. Takeda tomorrow." Ema warned.
"Sounds fun! It will be a good way to kick off the start of the semester." Yachi beamed.
"Oh, did you ever find out why that student was looking for you, Sonoda?" Suga asked, his face slightly pink at the thought of the tall, handsome, dark-haired man.
"Ughh." Ema groaned, surprising her two friends. "He's not a student. He's the chemistry idiot I had to fight to get out of my classroom."
"Y-you didn't actually fight him, right?" Yachi asked tentatively while twisting a strand of her short blonde hair through her fingers.
"No. But he could stand to have that stupid grin wiped off his face." Ema glowered. "And what's worse is now he's taunting me through an essay." She waved the paper above her head dramatically. Her office-mates couldn't help but laugh. Though, they couldn't exactly fault Ema's exasperation. Both Yachi and Suga, despite their good natured personalities and decent looks, rarely received unprompted attention. Theirs was a relatively contained social circle, consisting of, and only of, other history grad students. None of them were Tokyo locals and did not have a built-in group of friends in the area, and so resolved to build a group of their own, right there in the department basement. Therefore it was a slight shock to the trio's system to have an outsider so easily move through their space and take from them valuable time and attention.
"It's almost 4:30, if we leave for Carl's now we can still make the happy-hour specials." Suga said, closing his laptop and packing up his books. Ema and Yachi followed suit, easy banter passing back and forth amidst the group. They were lucky to be in the same cohort, even if their fields of study were so different. Easy-going personalities and genuine likability made making friends in a small community so much easier. Yachi worked on women's labor movements in West Germany post-1945, while Suga studied the legal pluralities of French colonies in East Asia. At least the milestones they reached in the program came at roughly the same time, ripe for commiseration and celebration. Besides the trio, there were two other second year graduate students in the history department, Tsukishima Kei and Shimizu Kiyoko, though they were far less social and rarely accompanied the gang to Carl's. They were often joined by third and fourth years in their program, which added to the atmosphere of shared camaraderie.
Their time at Carl's passed easily and in the same vein as it always did; comfortable conversation moved back and forth, pausing only to reassure their terrifyingly tall bartender that they were just fine and didn't need anything else. It was a slow night, a Tuesday, after all, and it was more than understandable for a restless bartender to keep checking in on them. True to her word, however, Ema finished her one and only drink before happily parting ways with her friends at the bar's entrance.
Later that night as Ema sat at her desk in her bedroom, she repeated her nightly ritual of sitting at her desk, running her finger over its well-worn path across the top of her jewelry box, the courage to open it failing her once again. Sighing, Ema pulled her books and folders out of her bag. She stared at the quickly scribbled essay before her. It's just a taunt, she sighed as she read through the surprisingly coherent paragraphs.
"Why am I doing this. It doesn't even dignify a response." She grumbled out loud. Grabbing her favorite bright red grading pen, Ema quickly marked x's and tick marks across the page. With her grading finished, she took a quick photo of the final mark with her phone and reluctantly sent a text to the new contact in her phone, Chemistry Idiot.
##
(23:45) From: Chemistry Idiot-
I take offense to this grade, sensei.
(1:03) From: Chemistry Idiot-
Can I have a make-up assignment? Or should I come to office hours for tutoring?
(6:45) From: Chemistry Idiot-
Sonoda-sensei you wouldn't let a good student fail, would you? I promise to leave a glowing student evaluation.
(6:47) From: Chemistry Idiot-
Wait that sounded creepy. I promise I'm not creepy.
(6:47) From: Chemistry Idiot-
Will you be on campus today?
Pairs well with: Dancing On the Lake by Alexandre Desplat