The bell rang. A sharp, merciless sound that tore through the classroom, and instantly the chaos began. Sneakers squeaked, desks scraped, voices collided in a noisy frenzy. I stayed where I was, shoulder pressed to the window, bag slung lazily over one shoulder, pen tapping the edge of my notebook. Invisible. Untouchable. Almost.
Across the room, Aoi Hoshizora was already at the center of the storm. Laughing, talking, hands waving—drawing attention like a sun pulling planets. She wasn't loud, not in a vulgar, obnoxious way. Just… radiant. Dangerous, really. People gravitated toward her effortlessly.
Great. Another ball of chaos orbiting the room, and somehow—somehow—headed straight for me. Why does it always happen like this?
I watched. Not her exactly, more like observing the patterns of everyone around her. People like her—bright, curious, talkative—were unpredictable in their persistence. They never took "no" for an answer. They just… found a way.
And, of course, as if on cue, she did.
"Haruto-kun!"
My pen paused mid-tap. Every neuron in my brain screamed in mild horror. I didn't look up. Maybe if I stayed still enough, I could vanish.
Why is she talking to me? Did I drop something? Did someone misplace me in the social hierarchy? No. Impossible. She's just… annoying, in that cheerful, unrelenting way.
Her shadow fell across my desk. I looked up. She was smiling—spring wrapped in a school uniform, eyes bright, full of energy, as if the universe had decided to shine exclusively on her today.
"You're Haruto, right? I'm Aoi. Thought maybe we could work together on the project," she said, words spilling over one another, fast, effortless.
I stared. Silence is an art form, and I had just sculpted a masterpiece.
Nice to meet you… again. In April. Two weeks into the semester. Because apparently greetings are cumulative here.
I shrugged, leaning back, pen still tapping. "Sure… if you want to. Quiet room at the back. Less noise. Less… chaos." My voice was neutral. Almost polite. But laced with the kind of sarcasm that makes people hesitate before speaking again.
Her smile didn't falter. She didn't hesitate. She simply followed me. I couldn't tell if that was courage or just complete oblivion. Probably both.
The back classroom was empty. Perfect. Peaceful. My fortress of temporary solitude. I dropped my bag and opened my notebook. Pens aligned. Pages crisp. Instructions parsed, categorized, arranged. My little world of order.
And, of course, she watched. Every subtle gesture. Fingers tapping the table. Head tilting slightly. Hair falling over her shoulder. Observing, persistent, like a cheerful shark circling in shallow waters.
"Do you… want me to take notes?" she asked, voice soft, careful. Too careful.
I shook my head, eyes still on the page. "No. You can just… watch. Doesn't matter." My tone was neutral, but it carried that underlying edge—just sharp enough to make someone reconsider testing me.
She nodded, sitting across from me, eyes bright, hands folded, observing. Perfect. Silent. Patient. A little too eager, maybe, but tolerable. For now.
Aois'_POV
I sat across from him, folding my hands neatly on the desk. I didn't interrupt. I didn't hover. I simply observed. And as he spoke through the project, explaining step by step, I listened. I learned. I noticed. His pen pauses, the slight tilt of his head, the way he sometimes smirked quietly at his own thoughts.
He might look calm, distant, even bored. But I could see it—the storm inside him. The thoughts racing, analyzing, criticizing, observing. And I liked that. Liked seeing the real him, even if it was hidden behind sarcasm and indifference.
Time passed quietly, just the two of us. Then sneakers scraped the floor. A voice broke the fragile calm. Another student returning early.
He snapped his notebook closed. "Alright. We'll continue later," he said, calm and detached.
I felt a pang of disappointment but hid it behind a small smile. "Okay… see you later, Haruto-kun."
As he walked out, I watched him go, thoughtful. Quiet, stormy, unpredictable. And somehow… irresistibly intriguing.
This is going to take time. But I don't mind. I want to know him. Really know him.