A/N: Keeping on with this story. I love these two.
He waits for the inevitable wake up call of her oversized book bag to hit him.
The digital clock with the alarm that is never set doesn't have to tell him Ninamori's due at any moment. His jaw clenches as he braces himself.
"Naota! Do you know what time it is?" she screeches, and he doesn't stop to wonder when and where it was that she invaded his room without permission, a concept that may have been completely alien to her when it regarded him. It seemed more as though she allowed herself into his life without asking if he cared to have her around or not.
Regardless, the silence stays for a little while.
"Are you listening? And where's your homework for history and math?"
Truth be told, he'd prefer it if she found another way to wake him up. Teenage hormones and all that are telling him of a different sort of physical contact. But the usual black book-bag hits against his ribcage instead as she forces him to confront another day in the confines of the classroom.
And so begins another day.
The morning routine is like any other day, with him rolling out of bed as Ninamori herds him out of the door and towards school on time.
His grandfather rather likes watching her get him out of the house in the morning. He bosses Canti around the kitchen and watches behind a dusty cloud of flour how Naota gets up and is dragged around at her insistence. There's a look of resignation on the boy from his dropping shoulders and sluggish disposition, but it's far from annoyance or anger. This little routine has him wondering when either one of the two will crack and do something about it.
Shigekuni hands Ninamori a sweet roll before the two head off. She accepts with a nod and a small smile. Then she gives Naota a little shove to get him going.
Naota learned to thrive under the abuse of her vocalized annoyance in the morning.
"We'll be done with it soon," he tells her. "It's not like we have to worry much about it."
Standing in front of him, she straightens out the collar of his shirt over the tie she just finished readjusting. He doesn't bother to swat her hands away, thinking it too much trouble to muster that much energy so early in the morning. Besides, she isn't jarring him much as she straightens his clothes.
"You should worry more about getting through high school," she starts. "Otherwise, you'll only stay stuck here."
While her eyes are cast under a small frown of concentration as her arms wind around his neck, he briefly wonders what it'd be like to just step closer and actually be in her embrace. His eyes are drawn to the shine on her lips as he notes the lip gloss she's wearing. He guesses that it's plum flavored from the slight tinge of color and he kind of wants to taste it.
It's been quite some time since he kissed anyone. He was literally floating the last time it happened, wielding a guitar and telling Haruko he loved her as part of Mabase crumbled from the latest attack of weird robots. Thoughts of pink hair and destruction swirled around in his head for a moment.
Before he can dwell on that memory much longer, Ninamori's done and walking ahead of him. He stares at the retreating figure of her back and those legs before he catches up to her in a few steps.
There's a sidelong glance that she does not see. He's got an eyebrow quirked at her words as he thinks it ironic that she's lecturing him on growing up when she's the one having trouble adjusting.
He chooses to say nothing instead and bumps lightly into her shoulder, pretending it's the early morning along with the sun's glare that doesn't let him coordinate properly. They both know it's not true, even though they keep going forward. She doesn't seem to mind it at all that he knocks her sideways a few steps.
As usual, his arm reaches out to take her by the wrist and straighten her along the path she was following. He doesn't hang on for long, but she always feels his fingers linger for a moment before sliding off. They immediately go to his face to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes.
No one really sees this quiet method of interaction. And if any one of their classmates had, they would have called it flirting.
They mostly avoid each other at school, which is usual given how busy she is with the upcoming school festival.
There's a transfer student sitting beside him trying to get his attention. Perhaps for being in front of the class as she's talking and writing on the board, she is able to notice. But he doesn't really see that silly bottle blonde since his attention is diverted ahead, along with everyone else's, albeit for different reasons.
Ninamori is tallying up votes for this year's theme.
From his vantage point along the window, Naota notices the wrinkles in her clothes, the only evidence linked to a break in her façade. She doesn't look all that worn out from her minor breakdown and he's rather surprised at how quickly she can compose herself.
Someone's arguing about the merits of having a live band playing (probably Matsu), while someone else is extolling the virtues of cosplay as a marketing ploy to gain people's attention. There's a minor debate going on about maid versus Playboy bunny costumes.
There's a blonde - Haruna - Ninamori forces herself to remember the name, is leaning over and asking Naota something. The blonde is a pretty girl, one who would no doubt wear that damned bunny costume with no shame. Ninamori has too much dignity to be wearing slutty getup.
She looks away, out to the window in the corner - the one he's seated beside and watches a branch sway in the breeze, watching a few leaves drift downward.
His eyes can't seem to leave her and when her calm gaze settles on him for a long moment, he's not sure how to react. The repetitive pulse sounds out in his ears a little louder than before, but is neither faster nor slower.
There's a blur of sounds around him that drift about in aimless conversation. A soft breeze blows in through an open window, gently tousling her hair over her shoulder. He can smell the warmth of late spring in the air, a bit like fresh cut grass.
It reminds him of a dream he's been trying to forget. One similar to this where she's standing closer, staring at him before tilting her face just a bit and —
His eyes fall just a tiny bit to focus on her mouth and notices how she pouts just a little. As he raises an eyebrow, Ninamori can feel the heat of his scrutiny despite the dozen or so desks between them.
She bites her lip and is the first one to look away.
"We'll take a vote," she announces.
He's left wondering what she'll do to get her way. He's never quite forgotten that stupid play in the sixth grade. That damned mouse outfit was itchy, too, never mind that she called him cute. The pen dangles impatiently between his fingers, wondering why the hell that comment has persistently stuck around.
Ninamori turns around and neatly prints out suggestions on the blackboard. He finds himself staring at the lines of her arm that leads up to the curve of a shoulder and the neat arch of her throat.
There are no paper ballots this time. It turns out she doesn't do anything that ensures questionable results since she merely calls out the choices and tallies up the raised hands.
A small grin is partially hidden behind his fingers from sheer amusement.