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Being in the last year of high school was nice. Mob liked it. A lot. He’d let go of a lot of his old stuff . He was still himself, but he’d also changed a lot over the years. Hopefully into something– some one –better. He was hopeful that the change was good, but he guessed it was all relative. His view of his change might be different to someone else. It was confusing to him, but still– he hoped.
Mob liked to think he was braver than he was four years ago. He remembered how embarrassed he was when he’d confessed to Tsubomi– she had quietly and politely turned him down. They’d had a conversation about life and just… things in general. Mob had felt like dying on the spot, but they hadn’t parted in bad conditions. She seemed to smile at him more now, but to him it felt more like a solidarity, a sort of secret camaraderie between them.
Mob also liked to think he was stronger now. Not just physically (although the body improvement club did help in that regard), but mentally. He had outlets for his emotions, healthy ones. He and Ritsu talked more, and were open with each other. He’d picked up journaling too.
Overall, he felt like the current Mob was pretty darn good.
Except for one thing.
His stomach. Whenever he saw a certain president of the body improvement club, or, hell, even thought of the guy, his stomach would flip and flop and dance some sort of incredible tango that just made him want to… well, he wasn’t sure. Of course, he was good at internalizing those feelings. He’d had about seventeen years of practice doing that with all his other feelings, so it was easy. It was just… problematic on his behalf.
It was like he’d been transported back to his middle-school infatuation with Tsubomi, except it was high school, and Musashi definitely was not Tsubomi . That in itself freaked Mob the heck out. Before confessing to her, Mob couldn’t imagine life without ending up with her somehow. Learning his crush was unrequited had somehow freed him though, taken away those confusing chains that weren’t fair on himself or Tsubomi.
Mob didn’t want those chains again. Not really. Not with… Goda?
Sort of?
He stared at the ceiling of the club room, glad that whoever was reading nearby still thought he had passed out. Sometimes he just needed to order his thoughts. Now probably wasn’t the best time to do so, but his mind was steamrolling ahead of himself anyway.
It wasn’t like he wanted to dislike Goda. He was kind and warm and filled with sunshine and encouragement and smiles and big, full laughter. There was no way in the entire universe anyone (especially Mob) could dislike the guy. Recently Mob had been trying to talk to him more. Which was, well, crazy on Mob’s part. That wasn’t something Mob did. But, it was their last year of school together. If he didn’t at least try to learn more about Goda, he’d never have the chance again, so at the very least he could veil it as friendship. The more he started to learn about Goda, the more he realized how much he liked the guy. Everything about him was just so… endearing and appealing, that just the thought of his laugh was enough to stop Mob’s heart. It didn’t help that he was also jacked to the moon and back again, but Mob generally tried to avoid thinking about that. Especially when they were working out together.
“Oh! You’re awake,” A familiar voice said, nearby. “You need some water? You look dehydrated.”
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Heart rate spiking, Mob sat up. “Oh. Yeah.”
Goda handed him a water bottle, moving quickly. “You sure took a fall back there. That hasn’t happened in awhile.”
“No. It hasn’t.” Mob fumbled with the lid for a second, gratefully drinking the refreshing liquid. He gasped for air. “Sorry.”
“No reason to be sorry. It’s fine. Just.” Goda shrugged a little. “Make sure you stay hydrated! Especially when the weather is getting so hot out like this.”
Mob nodded. As always, Goda knew best. He stood up to return to their outside exercises, but Goda motioned for him to sit back down. “Um. I wanted to talk to you about something.”
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“Oh?”
Goda fidgeted with his hands for a second. “Y-yeah. Um.”
A nail-biting silence hung heavy between them.
“I… well…”
Mob blinked. It wasn’t often that he saw Goda like this. All this… awkwardness? It just didn’t fit him, and it just made Mob more confused. Goda let out a resigned sigh.
“... Y-you remember how you had said you were thinking about going to Allspice College?”
“Eh?” He blinked again, trying to wrap his mind around this sudden (stressful) topic. He’d been worried about where to go for college, and Allspice seemed like the most affordable, and it had some good professors and classes and stuff. His parents were pushing it… but they weren’t sure about the distance. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Well, I… I’d have to talk to my parents and stuff, but we might have an extra room that you could stay in? A few of my siblings are moving out. Um. Our farm is a lot closer to Allspice than your house, i-it might, uh, help with travel stuff? Um.” He cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact, trying to look small. “If. If you want.”
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The idea of living on Goda’s farm was incredibly appealing. But also terrifying. That would mean meeting the Goda family, being around much more people than he was used to, a completely foreign environment, and Musashi Goda himself would be in the same household as him, living and breathing and being . The implications of all of this were endless and it was sending Mob’s still dehydrated mind reeling. Of course, he was the only one who knew that, as he was sitting frozen in his spot, face unmoving.
“Oh,” was all he managed to spit out. He blinked.
Goda sat on the edge of his seat, seeming eager to hear what he would say.
“ Oh. That would be… nice.” He blinked again. “I’ll talk to my parents about it.”
The smile that appeared on Goda’s face was bright and warm and it made Mob feel like he was sitting in the sun. “Awesome! I’ll call my parents tonight and see what they say! I doubt they’ll have a problem with it.”
The two of them walked out of the club room to join the outside activities. Mob couldn’t shake the feeling building up inside of him. He channeled it into his exercises, hoping to forget.