A raven-haired boy walked down the seemingly empty street. Not a sound was made other than the soft tapping of his footsteps on the pavement.
Unfortunately, that boy was a very observant person.
He leaned forward slightly and hugged himself in a nervous manner. He could feel the intent stares of his stalkers, as they "stealthily" followed him to school. He shuddered.
He tried to focus on the smell of fresh air, or the trees and abundance of nature alongside the path, but to no avail.
The poor high schooler didn't know what they wanted, or why they stalked him. They did it every day, like clockwork, and it made him feel so very uncomfortable. He had taken multiple routes to school and back– so many twists and turns– and his stalkers remained unrelenting. Thankfully, he was always able to shake them off before they found out where he lived– he didn't need to add to his parent's stress.
He never dared to let them know that he knew they were there. He didn't want to imagine what they would do if they knew. Most of all, he didn't want to risk upsetting them.
While he was unaware of their names, he knew they were his classmates. Who knew the kind of rumors they might spread if he called them out? Everyone would just hate him even more. No, it was better to just stay silent and leave them to their own devices.
So, he kept up his act, and pretended as if there was no one following him.
Approaching the familiar brick wall to the right of the sidewalk, he spotted the stoic cat that sat and leered at him. He stared back.
He knew he spent a good portion of his free time here, wishing he could pet the fluffy feline, and he wallowed at the fact that he just couldn't. Cats were adorable. And fluffy. And they would never judge him, or backtalk him, and they kept secrets. Cats were the ideal friends, in his opinion. Yet, his allergies remained a barrier, denying him of the cat's friendship.
He sighed, crossing his arms, then froze as a sudden voice behind him called out, "Handa!"
Instinctively, he spun around. Oh no.
––––––
Nikaido Reo was an excellent ex-model. A shining star hanging above all the surrounding dull ones. He had the looks. Girls would flock at the mention of his name. He was popular.
So obviously, he held himself at high standards.
Or, at least, he used to.
As Reo hid behind the street corner with his three accomplices, he stared at the back of their target.
Handa Seishuu. The real shining star.
Handa's father was famous in the calligraphy industry, so it was essential that his son be well-versed in the art as well. Handa was a name that every student at their high school knew of. And not just because of his calligraphy prodigality.
After the incident that caused Reo to update his status from 'famous model' to 'been there, done that,' he began to see what sort of person the boy really was.
Handa always had this aura around him that told people to back-off, yet when the moment appeared, he would say or do something that showed what a true and kind person he was.
Thus, it was necessary for him and his friends to watch over him. They needed to make sure he stayed safe. A saint like Handa didn't deserve any trouble. They would protect him.
So, it was obviously necessary to follow him to and from school. Who knew what sort of dangers lurked around these streets?
Watching Handa stare at the cat like he did every other day, he began to prepare himself for what would surely be an hour of nothing. He glanced at the three teens next to him. He spotted Aizawa, the class chairperson, with his notebook open and a pen at the ready– as if he hadn't already studied Handa's route to school thoroughly enough, thought Reo.
He could easily see Tsutsui, the bulk man ready to kill anything and everything, and Yuki-
He failed to locate Yukio.
Reo was about to shrug it off when he heard a familiar voice, "Handa!"
Reo swore quietly to himself. They were never allowed to directly interact with Handa– the Handa-force was on a strict 'from the shadows' policy! They didn't have the right to speak to such a man! What in the fresh hell was that idiot thinking?!
Yet, despite this, Reo didn't move. He stayed right where he was and began to watch the display before him.
––––––
"Handa!"
Yukio Kondo studied the teenager in front of him. Handa Seishuu. A boy considered a legend among his peers. He was seen as brave, strong, cold like a devil, yet kind like an angel. He could defeat bears and entire gangs, without any weapon except his fists. In the eyes of most, he was an enigma.
However, Yukio knew that was all wrong. He could easily see that Handa was struggling to maintain eye contact with him. He looked ready to run. Poor guy thought everyone hated him. Handa had unknowingly found himself in the middle of countless misunderstandings and had assumed the worst.
Yukio thought back to all the experiences he'd had with Handa. He wondered if he'd been this anxiety-ridden and paranoid when they'd met?
He remembered when he shoved that bag on Handa's head, accidentally suffocating the poor teen and rendering him unconscious. He hadn't meant to do that, obviously. He was just trying to protect him.
Or that time he'd given Handa his flower-press card, Handa had told him 'thank-you'. Yukio hoped he had actually appreciated the gesture.
And Yukio vividly remembered the first time he was introduced to the Handa Force– the three (now four, including him) teenagers who watched over Handa from afar.
It was the cooking class where he first discovered how oblivious the boys were when it came to Handa's attitude towards them.
The eccentric group of boys admired and idolized Handa from a distance, while said person tried not to break down in tears and had felt extremely excluded that day.
It was the cooking class where he discovered how far the Handa-force was willing to go. Just how much power Handa unknowingly held over his classmates. Yukio watched them eat something that– under regular circumstances– no one would've ever eaten.
'Why? Because Handa made it.' It echoed in his head to this day.
Handa was a force to be reckoned with, yes, but Yukio could see that Handa was really just a socially awkward guy. And as far as he could tell, the raven-haired boy had no friends. Or on the odd chance that he did, he didn't meet with them often.
So, Yukio had taken it upon himself to get to know the guy, scary as he may be. Which is exactly why he had left his anomalous comrades behind at the street corner to approach Handa. He would make the effort and be his friend. Hell, maybe he could get the Handa-force to try, too.
Besides, what's the Handa-force… without Handa?
––––––
Why isn't he saying anything? This was Handa's first thought once he managed to stop himself from straight up running away.
He knew this was one of his stalkers. One of his classmates, standing just a few meters in front of him. He wondered why he had decided to come near him. What was his name again? Yukio? Yeah, that was it. Now that Handa looked at him clearly, he remembered who he was. This was the kid that hated him the most.
Just his luck.
But now, Handa was getting nervous. Why was this kid just staring at him? Was he just staring at him to make him nervous? It certainly worked! Why was he-
"H-hey, what do you want?" Handa didn't realize what he'd said until it was too late, instantly regretting those words. He clenched his fists. Just pretend you didn't stutter, he told himself.
Yukio blinked, and took a few steps towards him. Now standing next to Handa, he gave the cat on the wall a calculating stare. The cat glared back at him.
Handa watched Yukio carefully. He did not appreciate the close proximity with the other teen. What happened to boundaries? And what was so special about that cat? Does Yukio also have an allergy to cats? Was he trying to rile me up by attempting an imitation of me? A mess of thoughts and scenarios swirled in Handa's mind, and he hated the awkwardness that seemed to surround the two. He wanted to leave– the nervousness was eating him up inside– but he didn't want to seem like a coward. So, reluctantly, he stood his ground.
"Why do you always stare at this cat?" Handa did not expect that to be the first thing Yukio said to him. He'd expected a sudden shove to the ground or an elbow in the stomach. It was an odd question, but better than what he'd imagined. Handa hadn't failed to notice Yukio's use of 'always' when wording his question, further proving the boy stalked him. He shivered. Creepy.
He chose not to mention the stalker thing yet.
"I'm allergic," was all he said. His voice was mostly flat, but there was a slight longing, disappointed tone.
Could he leave yet? School started soon. He wondered if abruptly speeding off would seem rude. Probably. He sighed.
"Oh," was all Yukio responded with, then, after a bit of hesitation, "that sucks, huh?"
"Y-yeah," he said, mentally cursing himself for stuttering.
He didn't like this. He had no clue why the boy was talking to him, or what his ulterior motives were. So many unknown variables left the mind with unlimited ideas and scenarios. So much could go wrong.
"What do you want?" He repeated, "I– we have to get to school."
"Oh yeah, let's go then."
Without warning, Handa's arm was roughly yanked. Behind them, he thought he heard someone yelling at them, but he was being dragged to quickly to check who.
When the grip on his arm finally loosened, Handa faltered for a bit before silently submitting and walking to school. With Yukio.
Cue le panic.
On the outside, Handa looked stiff as a pole as he walked along the pavement with the blond teen.
On the inside, his mind felt equally as frozen. But as his brain slowly but surely allowed coherent thoughts to flow, he had to stop himself from outwardly panicking.
He was almost in denial about the current situation– the classmate who despised him the most was now accompanying him to school. Did he plan to humiliate him upon arriving, in front of everyone? Was he going to kidnap Handa when he least expected it and take him to his gang so they could beat him up? Was he trying to lull him into a false sense of security?
Handa could feel tears gather at the corners of his eyes, quickly blinking them away. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't humiliate himself in front of his most hardcore hater. It would just give Yukio more reason to laugh at him.
He couldn't run. He wouldn't (and couldn't) fight.
Leaving seemed rude. And he couldn't make up an excuse, either.
The only reasonable excuse would be along the lines of 'sick/ unwell'… but as his day-to-day stalker, Yukio would know that he was lying. He shouldn't risk making him upset.
He remembered his past encounters with Yukio vividly. How could he forget? When he stuffed that bag on his head and suffocated him, or when he somehow managed harassment via flower pressing. Fun times.
While he didn't know why, but the fact remained that Yukio hated him. He didn't want to add any more fuel to the fire.
Shaking his head, he focused.
As far as he could tell, he had two options left. The two most probable scenarios to focus on…
He waited to see what trap the teen would spring upon him, then improvise his way out.
He distracted Yukio whenever he seemed like he would try something suspicious.
Handa tried to ignore the fact that no matter what, there seemed to be no escaping the teen next to him. He was stuck. He would need to walk to school with him, and he would need to make an effort to talk to him– make an effort to distract him from his task. He would distract Yukio so he could get to school undisturbed, and then they could part ways.
It occurred to Handa that he lacked certain skills. Namely, his social skills. His ability to speak with people was practically non-existent unless he was with someone he could trust. Even then, he could barely start a conversation with his own best friend, much less a heart-to-heart with this stranger.
He sighed. For the sake of himself, he would try his best.
He tried to ignore the small voice of hope in that back of his mind that said maybe, just maybe, he and Yukio could be friends.
Annoyed at himself for having such naïve thoughts, Handa shook his head– he had a mission to focus on.
––––––
The morning started off like any other– it was quiet, peaceful, sunny, and Junichi Aizawa's perfectly timed routine was going exactly as he had planned.
At exactly 05:30 AM, he woke up to the blaring of his alarm clock.
At exactly 05:50 AM, he got ready for the oncoming day.
At exactly 06:10 AM, he ate breakfast.
At exactly 07:45 AM, he and the rest of the Handa-force silently watched Handa as he walked to school.
He could never have expected what happened at precisely 08:27 AM.
He watched as the newest member of the Handa-force– Yukio– disobeyed Aizawa's protocol and initiated a conversation with Handa.
Aizawa growled. He thought he had drilled it into their thick skulls countless times– it was imperative that the Handa-force distanced themselves from Handa, for they didn't share the right to walk alongside him. Their job was to support him!
Aizawa wondered why Yukio decided to ignore that. Yukio wasn't stupid. Far from it. Aizawa considered Yukio to be the smartest and most level-headed of the group– besides himself, of course.
He believed that if Yukio would ignore one of the Handa-forces' most important rules, then he must've had a good reason for it. He trusted his friend.
Watching Yukio and Handa, Aizawa and co slowly followed from behind. He realized that if Handa was now aware of Yukio's presence, then hiding was no longer necessary.
"Aizawa," called Reo. He turned to the ex-model.
"Yes?" he answered, pushing up his glasses with his index finger.
"Why aren't you doing anything? Are we just going to let him do whatever he wants?"
Behind them, Tsutsui grumbled in agreement and looked to Aizawa.
The class-chairperson already knew his answer.
"Valid question. But yes, we are. I trust my friends," his glasses shined from the sun as he spoke, "However, we will be questioning him as soon as we get the chance."
Reo nodded, and they all turned to try and listen in on the two in front of them.
––––––
Yukio was stuck in a predicament; it was too awkward. Suffocatingly awkward.
Walking down the smooth pavement with Handa in silence– and about 10 minutes away from their school– Yukio was left with nothing but his thoughts.
Talking had always been relatively easy when he spoke with other people, so why was it so hard now?
He should've expected it, though. How could he have thought Handa would be easy to talk to?
What did they even have in common? Thinking about it, Yukio didn't know all that much about Handa, save for his calligraphy and his struggles with people.
Glancing to said calligrapher next to him, Yukio almost froze at the menacing aura radiating off of him. The Handa Wall.
Yukio shuddered.
Obviously, Handa was feeling the awkwardness of the situation just as much as him.
Well, thought Yukio, may as well try and start somewhere.
"So," he began, "Umm… How long have you been doing calligraphy?"
Handa looked at him, wide-eyed. Then, his posture straightened, and he cleared his throat.
"Since I could hold a brush," he deadpanned.
Not much vocal expression with this one, thought Yukio, take 2, I suppose.
As Yukio began to shoot his next attempt, he spotted the familiar school building in the distance.
Time flies when you're having fun, huh? Yukio mentally sighed.
10 minutes had gone by far too quickly, and he had made no progress with Handa. If only math class felt as quick as this…
Upon reaching the school gate, Yukio could only watch as Handa stuttered out a small 's-see you' before speeding off. He sighed.
There would be plenty of opportunities to talk to Handa, he told himself, your failure on the first try was inevitable, anyway.
With determined thoughts, Yukio headed for his locked, ready to start his day.