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The time. That explained it. Night Time officially began however many hours ago. How many exactly could only be guessed because Byakuya had stopped checking his wristwatch. Whenever he examined it, he shifted slightly and so did the book in his hands. Each time, he had to readjust his posture each time so the desk lamp highlighted the book’s print to his liking. Eventually, he stopped holding out his wrist so he could check the time. Too much unnecessary work.
And the puddle of coffee at the bottom of his cup had long since turned too bitter, its imperfections amplified as it cooled to the library’s room temperature. Honestly, cold coffee once steaming hot didn’t have to taste so vile. The flavours of quality brands of coffee improved as they cooled. It seemed he was too optimistic in expecting a prestigious school to stock decent coffee, even if the headmaster of said school encouraged them all to kill each other.
How childishly stupid. Almost as childishly stupid as the fact that some of Byakuya’s opponents actually gave the headmaster what he wanted.
Worst of all, Byakuya couldn’t refill his cup because the cafeteria closed every night. So he had to wait until he returned to his room to replenish his energy. Of course, he could always sleep during the day if he wished to stay up all night. Doing so would improve his chances of not being blighted by anyone else’s presence. But the idiots would no doubt attempt to murder each other again, and he would be damned if he attended a trial needlessly half-asleep.
Really, he couldn’t be faulted when his attention wavered and he caught sight of his unsought shadow. Sitting opposite him like always, scribbling in a notebook she could barely see because his lamp’s glow didn’t reach that far. And she was too stupid to ask if she could come closer so she could share his light. Or maybe not too stupid. Maybe slightly competent, because she knew he spurned any and all attempts she made to get closer to him. What with her horrible smell and horrible habits. Habits like how she picked at her hair, or how she chewed the end of her pen as she stared at her writing. Or how she stared at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice.
Still, even someone like her could make themselves useful. She liked trying to be useful when it came to him. That almost pleased him.
Byakuya proffered the mediocre detective novel he just finished, holding it toward her. Touko continued writing, so focused on her notebook that she hadn’t realised he desired her attention. His frown deepened as his gaze slid onto the pile of books next to him, yet to be read. With all their bland, forgettable plots and shallow characterisations, it would be irritating if the book he had completed mixed in with the others.
Using his free hand to pick out the next novel he intended to read, Byakuya said, “Touko, put this one back on the shelf.”
He set down the book. Not until he extracted a book marginally more promising than the others did he realise she hadn’t jumped up to obey him. In fact, she hadn’t done anything but gawk at his face.
How typical.
“Fukawa,” he said. “I told you to put this back on the shelf.”
Either the poor lighting made her face such an odd colour or some perverse thought had entered her mind and she was too shameless to mask her blushing.
Byakuya glared. “What is it?”
“You…!” Touko fidgeted. Then, she smiled a repulsive smile as she gazed down at her hands. “You… c-called me Touko…”
He rolled his eyes. “No. My exact words were, ‘Fukawa. I told you to put this back on the shelf.’ Which you failed to do.”
“Before that, you said, ‘Touko.’”
Byakuya hesitated and replayed the scene in his mind. Or tried to, anyway. It had been such a throwaway sentence. Just one of his many orders. Something only she would latch onto and twist into whatever fitted her fantasy world.
“I did not say that,” he decided.
“You did!”
“I did not.”
“D-Did too!”
The chair he had been sitting on scraped against the floor as he stood up. “You’re wasting my time. I’m going to my room. And I did not say that.”
She followed him to the door, still wearing that godawful expression of hers. “But you did say it… my name…!”
She was drooling. Disgusting. That was why he couldn’t look at her.
“… I never said such a thing.”
“You did.”
“I did not.”
“Did.”
“Didn’t.”
They were on their way back to the dormitories now.
“Did.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did.”
“What are you two arguing about now?” asked Kyouko from the doorway of her room, arms folded over her chest.
Touko yelped. Byakuya spun around on his heel to face Kyouko.
“Why are you awake?” he demanded. “Shouldn’t you be asleep like the rest of your little group?”
“I heard your voices and decided to see what was going on,” Kyouko explained with a shrug. She tucked a loose tress behind her ear. “Besides, it would be hard to sleep through your bickering.”
He squinted. “How could you hear us if our rooms are all soundproof?”
“My door was open like it is every night.” Now came Kyouko’s turn to narrow her eyes. “Are you all right, Togami-kun? Your face is quite red.”
At most other times, Byakuya would have found such a fact about Kyouko interesting. Instead, he stored this piece of information away for later contemplation and disappeared into his room before either of the girls could say another word. He pressed his back against the door and looked up towards the ceiling.
“… Didn’t.”