"Isn't morning recess a little early for ice cream?"
Omi looked up from where he was sitting on the treasury room armchair, his Shakespeare omnibus on his lap, to observe Kaoru standing at the door of the treasury room and staring incredulously at him. He smiled.
"I wasn't aware that there was an appropriate time of day to begin eating ice cream," he replied sweetly.
Kaoru looked at him suspiciously and entered the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. "Omi-kun, what's the matter?"
"Nakajima-san."
Omi watched Kaoru's eyes narrow. "Did he hack us again?"
"No," Omi said quickly. He hesitated, briefly wondering how to phrase himself, and finally settled on the unemotionally simple: "Kurosawa-sensei asked us to pair up together for the term project."
"And you said no."
"And Nakajima-senpai said yes," Omi corrected, his voice tight. "After that, in front of a teacher, especially Kurosawa, I couldn't very well say no."
Kaoru folded his thin arms and turned away to stalk over to the window, a brooding expression on his face. Omi resumed nibbling at his chocolate coated vanilla ice cream as he watched his friend stare thoughtfully out at the courtyard below him.
"I think it's a good opportunity," Kaoru said finally. Omi closed his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. His friend's response was as he had predicted, but prediction hadn't prepared him any better for hearing it.
Kaoru continued: "Nakajima-san has no reason to work against you on a joint project. Perhaps this will help you understand each other better."
Omi put the English book down on the coffee table, rose, and walked over to the desk to retrieve a couple of painkiller tablets from a drawer. He swallowed them with a mouthful of ice cream and grimaced when the powdery residue stuck in his throat. Looking up, he saw that Kaoru was watching him, a furrow in his friend's brow. Omi frowned back. "What?"
"I'm worried about you," Kaoru said crossly. "You've been out of sorts since staying here over the holidays, studying for that Third Year course. I don't understand why you get so bothered about Nakajima-san. He hasn't hacked us since last term, as far as you've told me, so unless he's been bullying you - in which case you should tell me -" he emphasised, "I don't see why he presents a problem for you. How many times do you I have to tell you? He likes games. Don't let him bait you and he'll leave you alone."
Omi sighed and leaned back against the desk. If only it was that simple. If only Kaoru realised that the real problem was that recently, especially since moving rooms, Omi had discovered he liked Nakajima's games a little too much. "I suppose the same could be said about you and Niwa-senpai," he said quietly.
He noted Kaoru's angry flush. "That's different! Nakajima-san doesn't sexually harass you. I slap Niwa because he treats me like a girl and his hands wander." But then Kaoru hesitated and a look of alarm entered his face, "Wait, Nakajima hasn't done that to you, has he?"
Omi smiled faintly. "No, Kaoru, he has never done that," he reassured.
After classes that day, Omi was in the treasury room again, doing homework on his laptop, when he felt his phone vibrate in his trouser pocket. Upon retrieving the device, he saw that he had received a message from an unknown number to his phone. The number, however, wasn't unknown to Omi, who had memorised it about a year prior when he had seen it listed on the school's personnel database one time.
Meet me after 5 at the Student Council Room. -NH
Omi looked at the clock. It was almost 5 now. He looked at Kaoru, who was sitting drinking tea on the armchair, his physics book lying open on his lap. In the bin beyond the sofa, an empty carton of chocolate milk rested on top of the empty ice cream wrapper from recess. Kaoru had bought him the drink and given it to him after class, by way of a peace offering for their argument earlier.
He began gathering up his belongings. "I'm heading out," he said quietly when Kaoru looked up to see what he was doing. When the pink haired boy frowned, Omi explained, "Nakajima-senpai wants to discuss our project."
Kaoru nodded and smiled at him. "Good luck."
Omi smiled back. "Thank you."
NHSO/NHSO/NHSO/NHSO
The Vice President was alone in the Student Council room when Omi arrived at 5pm sharp. He was sitting in his usual spot, typing at the computer, and although he told Omi to enter, he didn't look away from his screen when Omi was actually in the room. Omi glanced at the computer, suddenly nervous that Nakajima was hacking the treasury again and taking advantage of Omi's attention being elsewhere. He was reassured to see - instead of code - a written document full of Japanese characters. A politics essay, by the looks of it. One of Omi's worst subjects. Nakajima's best, but as the son of a prominent politician, that was no surprise.
"There's a folder on the desk for you," Nakajima said sharply, still not looking at him.
Omi frowned and looked at the Student Council desk where Niwa usually sat when the President deigned to sit in the Student Council Room. There were two piles - one very high one about ten folders deep, another four folders deep, and beside them both, a lone folder. Omi went over, put down his books and laptop, and picked up the solitary one to open it. He frowned when he read the topmost document and, interest piqued, began slowly turning the pages.
He was looking at photocopied computer studies class notes, written in Nakajima's neat, spiky handwriting. And after those: summaries of high scoring group projects from previous years, each critiqued by Nakajima.
The sound of typing suddenly stopped and Omi looked back at Nakajima. The senior had turned in his chair to glare at him.
"Thank you," Omi said, awkwardly.
Nakajima eyed him coldly. After a long pause, the older student reached up and adjusted his glasses. "Are you free on Sunday at 2?"
"…Yes."
"Think about what you want to do for the project before then," Nakajima said curtly. "We'll meet here to share proposals and choose one. You're dismissed." Then he spun back to his computer and resumed typing.
Omi swallowed. Grateful though he knew he should be, the older boy's behaviour was just… Nakajima was treating him like he barely existed. Like he was worth nothing. Just by giving him this folder. He felt a prickling anger and shame wash over him. This hadn't been given to him to help him. This folder was here to patronise him. Nakajima knew that Omi was just as capable and likely better than him at computer studies. Omi picked up the folder and his belongings, balancing the pile awkwardly against his chest, and swiftly left, heading not back to the treasury, as he had originally intended, but back to his room. He couldn't face Kaoru in his current condition. Once safe in his locked room, he unloaded the folders onto his bed, undressed, and headed into the shower.
He swore as he felt the hot water strike his body, and then swore again as he began to cry. He rubbed at his face with his hands. God, he was such a baby! How he was going to tolerate working with that bastard over the next few weeks, he didn't know.
He stood under the running hot water for some ten minutes and then, finally, after his tears had subsided, he came out and got dressed, feeling slightly dizzy. Cursing himself under his breath, he sat down on the end of his bed and pulled the folder that Nakajima had given him onto his lap. He felt humiliated just touching the documents, but he knew he had better look through them all the same. There might be something there that he hadn't seen before, after all. He was reminded painfully of when the Vice President had insinuated, during Omi's first year, that Omi had cheated his way into Bell Liberty Academy. It was shortly after that uncomfortable moment when the older boy first attempted to hack him. His hands shaking slightly, he began reading the other boy's notes from where he had left off.
NHSO/NHSO/NHSO/NHSO
Despite Hideaki's hopes, his hangover from socialising the previous night with his uncle, Kurosawa-sensei, and a few of their business associates was still tormenting him on Sunday afternoon. His headache and upset routine - he missed both his Sunday morning karate training and breakfast with Tetsuya - left him in a very bad mood.
His misgivings that continuing work on his still unfinished politics essay on an empty stomach and whilst sporting a headache might be an insurmountable challenge were proven correct when he found himself staring at a pile of school council work due Monday that Tetsuya had failed to complete when he arrived at the Student Council Room early on Sunday afternoon.
He had just started working on the pile when there came a knock on the door. Hideaki looked up and glared at the clock. 2pm already? He'd give it 2pm. He grabbed a spare pen from the open drawer beside him and threw it at the clock. It landed in the wall with a thud, two feet from the target.
"Enter," he snapped.
The door opened quietly and Shichijo, on his irritatingly quiet feet, walked in. "Good afternoon, Nakajima-senpai," the younger student greeted.
Hideaki wanted to kill him.
There was a long silence.
"You did specify 2 o'clock, did you not?" Shichijo questioned placidly.
Hideaki inhaled deeply and got up. "Let's go outside," he said shortly. He needed some fresh air. He needed something to eat and drink as well. He brushed past Shichijo and left the council room to head downstairs to the foyer of the building. Shichijo followed silently.
On the stairway down, they passed an open window and a gust of warm fresh air breezed past Hideaki's face. Briefly, he felt a little better. He reached into his trouser pocket to count the coins there between his fingers, and on reaching the foyer, went over to the drinks vending machine to purchase first an iced chocolate that he had seen Shichijo favour on a few occasions, and an iced coffee for himself. He retrieved both from the outlet and, turning towards Shichijo, placed the iced chocolate on top of the pile of books, folders, and laptop in the boy's arms. Then he walked outside, opening his own drink as he did so and taking a few sips.
He walked around the building to a deserted sunny bench located between two classroom buildings. The bench was only frequented on weekdays and today, as Hideaki had guessed it would be, was abandoned. He turned, leaned against the wall facing the bench, and finally looked at his project team mate properly.
Shichijo smiled at him, but as per usual, it looked false. The younger boy looked a little awkward with the pile of stuff in his arms. The iced chocolate sitting precariously on the top of the pile looked even more incongruous.
"Senpai, is this drink for you or for me?" Shichijo asked, with sweet mock-politeness.
"For you," Hideaki said shortly. "Sit down."
Shichijo looked at Hideaki's stance against the wall, seemed to hesitate, and then went over to the bench and sat down. He put his materials down beside him on the seat and opened his drink. Hideaki watched take a sip, absently noted the flick of the muscles in Shichijo's neck as the other boy swallowed. Shichijo was in a good position to give head right there. He had always wanted to try running his fingers through that silver hair, see if that tongue so good at licking ice cream in the cafeteria was as good at…
Settle down, he told himself warningly.
He pushed his glasses back up his nose. "A paediatric pace maker," he said suddenly, gruffly, to his ears. "Kurosawa told the Chairman he had paired us together and the Chairman emailed me with an offer. The Suzubishi Corporation wants us to design a paediatric pacemaker prototype."
Shichijo's expression didn't change. The boy nodded once, a little regally, and Hideaki briefly wondered how many of Shichijo's mannerisms had come from Saionji.
Hideaki sipped at his drink again and felt the pounding in his head lessen a little with the fluid. Likely the diuretic effect of the caffeine wouldn't do him any favours later, but he was still in too much of a bad mood to care. He had bought the Treasury's Dog a drink, for goodness sake. How more out of character could he be? If Tetsuya had seen him do that, he would never have heard the end of it.
Enough. This was all part of his manipulation to get what Kurosawa wanted from him: proof that Shichijo Omi cheated on his platinum paper.
"I'd like to accept the offer. Do you object?" Hideaki invited.
"I'd like to see the offer."
Hideaki crossed his arms and smirked at him. "I'll forward it to you this afternoon. Confirm and I'll arrange a visit for us to Suzubishi's research facility at AI Hospital this week."
"…Yes." Hideaki noticed that Shichijo's expression had sunk back into his usual unreadable look.
"I'll see you then." Hideaki walked away, absently sipping at his drink.
NHSO/NHSO/NHSO/NHSO
That night, Omi was doing his maths homework at his desk when he saw Nakajima's balcony light flick on below. He got up and opened his balcony door, leaning as usual against the door jamb. After a few minutes, he was rewarded with the smell of cigarette smoke. When Kaoru had visited him earlier that day to check that he had indeed cleaned his room, his friend had once again hinted at reporting Nakajima's smoking habit. Again, Omi had dissuaded him.
"Oi, Hide," he heard someone say quietly. Omi recognised the voice as that of the Student Council President, Tetsuya Niwa. "Sorry about dumping and running earlier."
"You're not really," Nakajima's voice was curt.
"Ah… haha. Well… only a bit. I'll make it up to you, hey? Pay for your lunch every day this week."
"I'll be away on Wednesday."
"Oh? Where're you going?"
"A day trip for Kurosawa-sensei's assignment."
"Every day except Wednesday, then. Hey, how are you finding working with Shichijo-kun?"
Omi stiffened slightly.
There was a long silence.
"Admit it. He's not so bad," Niwa wheedled.
"The Treasury's guard dog hasn't bitten me yet this term, no," Nakajima said finally, quietly.
"And he won't if you play ball with him."
"He has two. Play with them literally or figuratively?"
Niwa chuckled. "You've a dirty mind. Figuratively, definitely. Now quit smiling. You look creepy. You're taking Shichijo-kun with you on Wednesday, right?"
"Pending the Chairman approves our leave applications, yes."
Omi scowled. This was the first that he had heard of the research facility trip taking a whole day, let alone being scheduled for Wednesday. Had Nakajima applied for a day's leave off classes for him without even telling him? Or was he lying to Niwa? Neither action by the senior would have surprised him. He closed the balcony door and padded back to the maths homework on his desk. About an hour later, he received a text message from Nakajima.
Suzubishi Corp expects us all day Wednesday. Meet me at the school gates at 8. Chairman has approved leave.
He tried for a few different responses. Eventually, he settled on the simplest: OK