Chapter Text
To say you were a perfect student was far from the truth, but you took pride in the effort you put into your academic pursuit.
Though more often than not, putting all your effort into your studies was all you could really do.
Growing up, you had little interest in pursuing any of the subjects you excelled at, and by the time your secondary years of school reached its end, you were debating on seeking higher education to begin with. The answer was more than clear, unfortunately–seeking higher education was the best path to success, and you couldn’t bear the thought of carrying the burden of disappointment from family members and peers. Furthermore, many of them had agreed to support you financially with your endeavors, and the thought of turning that down made you feel incredibly ungrateful. So, after several nights of tears, frustration, and inner turmoil with yourself, you agreed to apply to some institutes to pursue your studies. You weren’t sure what you wanted to do, but at that point, you didn’t really care so long as chemistry was involved. Though it wasn’t your strongest suit, you enjoyed learning it, and the thought of studying it in more detail sounded significantly less tortuous than most other options.
The issues, however, blossomed relatively quickly, as you had no idea where to start in your research for suitable universities. It took about a week and a half–with the help of Shikanoin Heizou, one of the few people you managed to befriend during your last years of high school–, but you were able to find some universities that piqued your interest. The ones that frequently emailed you were quickly excluded from your list of potential candidates, though you kept one or two in the back of your mind in case the other options didn’t work out.
Then, two months later, you found yourself scrolling through the website of a well-known university abroad.
Heizou was actually the one who recommended you explore outside your comfort zone and apply to some more elite universities, especially those abroad. At first, you laughed it off, believing he was just joking with you, but when you noticed the sincere glint in his eyes, you quickly grew anxious. A prestigious university in a whole other region? Sure, the distance wasn't terrible, as you were close to the border of that region, but it was still pretty far from your hometown. And what about the tuition? Wouldn't the total cost be too high? What if you couldn't excel in your classes? What if your homesickness was too much to bear?
Your complaints continued for weeks, but they fell on deaf ears, with Heizou’s only remark being that the ultimate decision was in your hands. You tried complaining to your relatives, your counselors, and your peers about the situation, hoping they’d agree that the plan was a bit too ambitious, but they all believed the goal was within your reach. You were a good student, after all, and were held in high regard by many teachers across the school. What was the harm in trying?
You were beyond annoyed with that idea, convinced your application process was just a waste of time and money, but reluctantly committed to it. At least your teachers and counselors would put more effort into your recommendation letters, then. You submitted the application the week before the deadline and deleted the website from your search history, praying you wouldn’t have to think about that university until the results were mailed out. You were likely going to attend one of the local universities that was willing to offer you financial aid and a decent scholarship.
That was…until you received your acceptance letter in the mail one rainy afternoon. After the initial shock wore off, you found yourself experiencing several weeks at once-–the mesh of days and nights left you disoriented, staring at the acceptance letter in disbelief as you recited the congratulatory words on the paper. It wasn’t until your final in person meeting with Heizou that the realization fully kicked in, and the rush of anxiety, resentment, excitement, and fear reduced you to a sobbing mess. Though Heizou reassured you several times that he did not mind,(in fact, he was grateful you had trusted him enough to express how you felt about that academia)the memory incited nothing but bitterness. Even now, you wish your last meeting with Heizou was something more cheerful, something that would allow you to reminisce and daydream while suffocating under piles of unfinished work. Ignorance was bliss, after all.
You don’t remember much about your first year at one of Sumeru’s finest schools, something you belittle yourself over to this day. Several months of academics, adjustment, achievements, breakdowns, lessons… and you could hardly recall anything prior to the later terms? You wouldn’t be surprised if your grades had reflected how idiotic your blank mindset was. Not that you ever bothered to check your grades; that was a whole other situation you had given up on long ago–
SNAP!
.
.
You raise your head up with a start, frantically glancing around as your heartbeat accelerates. As you try, and fail, to find the source of that sound, your vision refocuses, and the university’s library comes into view. Your eyes glaze over the hundreds upon thousands of books lined across articulately-designed shelves. The lights from the few remaining chandeliers reflect on the books’ dusty covers, leaving you to wonder how old some of them really were. You then look outside a nearby window and frown. When did the sky suddenly clear up? How long had you been zoning out?
You avert your eyes to the table you’re sitting at, shifting uncomfortably against a wooden chair. For a moment, you drown in your thoughts again, almost forgetting what you were supposed to do…until a pair of red eyes meet yours. You stiffen in your seat, abruptly looking away. That’s right; you weren’t alone. You were sharing this space with Cyno.
Looking back, the events that led up to this moment were somewhat laughable. It started when you decided to visit your university's library one evening, hoping the quiet atmosphere and the sight of other students working would improve your concentration. Your hopes shattered once you realized how massive the building was, and afterwards you spent the next ten minutes searching for the ideal place to sit. After lots of aimless wandering, you came across a small wooden table stationed in a sparsely decorated corner of the section you were at. You made your way over to it, taking a seat in the nearby wooden chair, and got to work. For the next several days, you’d go to that same spot at the library, tuning out the keyboard clacks and the humming air conditioners as you sifted through your assignments.
One evening, however, as you rushed to the library under the pressure of the upcoming exam weeks, you discovered there was another person sitting in your seat. You were surprised, annoyed even…until he turned his head towards you. The first thing you noticed was he looked awfully familiar; you swear you had seen his long, silver-white hair and narrow red eyes at some point . The second thing you noticed was how pretty he was. Though his style of clothing was quite simple–a black hoodie, a small, golden necklace, and a pair of headphones–, it seemed to compliment him quite well.
With a somewhat scary expression, he asked if you needed something from him, to which you told him you didn't and sat in the chair farthest away from him. You couldn't bear the awkward tension, so you decided to come back at an earlier time the next day. But of course, that didn't work out; as you approached that table, a lukewarm cup of coffee in hand, you noticed him sitting there again. Had it not been for his outfit change, you would've assumed he never left.
And then, instead of moving somewhere else like any other person would've, you decided to sit at that far end of the table again. You had an excuse prepared in case he questioned why you were sitting near him again, but he didn't seem to notice you until he got up to leave. This situation continued for another few days; you'd go to that same spot at a different time, only to find the pretty, silver-white haired student sitting in that exact spot. Fearing he may accuse you of stalking, you eventually confronted him about it, albeit a little awkwardly. To your surprise, he was just as confused as you were, claiming that the previous meetings were not planned and he just spent a lot of time alone in the library recently. He offered to move away if he was bothering you, to which you declined and apologized for being suspicious of him. A bit of small talk ensued, and all the tension from before gradually melted away.
That same day, he noticed you struggling with a particular topic once you two returned to work. He offered to provide some assistance, and although you were quite reluctant, you accepted. You soon found it was absolutely worth it; in just an hour, you were able to finish an assignment that had been kicking your ass for days. For the next week or so, you two developed a small routine; you would show him the subjects you were struggling with, and he'd offer certain amounts of assistance depending on his mood.
Perhaps you were imagining it, but you swore his demeanor became a little friendlier over time. He seemed more responsive to your occasional comments and questions, and he'd sometimes surprise you by inquiring about your well-being. He'd also greet you the moment he saw you and always said goodbye when one of you had to leave. It was almost pitiful how joyous those little interactions made you feel, considering you two didn't know each other's names.
But of course, that was before you discovered who your unofficial "study buddy" was. You figured he was a diligent student, always involved in clubs and extracurriculars, but you never would've guessed that he was Cyno. You've heard a lot about him from former roommates, peers, and professors due to his outstanding achievements and his involvement with certain clubs and organizations. He was also described as a serious, yet reliable worker that smiled twice a month at best. Your next study session with him felt a lot more nerve wracking after learning that .
You remember frantically texting Heizou and your housemates about it, and although they were surprised, they saw no issue with it. They assured you that most information surrounding his personality was rumor-based, yet that did little to quell your worries. You felt guilty for not treating Cyno with respect from the get go, for disrupting him with chats about trivial matters while finishing up late assignments. The point of coming to the library was to study, not to rely on assistance from another student you'd only see at a specific place.
Well, you did run into him outside the library one time, but you preferred to bury those sequence of events in the back of your mind.
You glance at Cyno for a moment, admiring the way he jots down his notes with efficiency and expertise. Why couldn’t you be like him? Someone who managed to accomplish so much in such a small span of time?
He exhales through his nostrils as he looks at you again, and for a moment you scold yourself for momentarily breaking his concentration. He adjusts his posture slightly, the pen in his hand tapping against his dark hoodie; you can tell he's waiting for you to say something, to do something.
So, you decide to apologize. “Ah, sorry. Am I disrupting you?”
He presses his lips together in contemplation, before slowly answering, “Not at all.” He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking away any unwanted drowsiness. “But you usually don't stare without reason. Do you need anything?”
“Oh, uh…” you bite the inside of your cheek. “Not really; I was just zoning out for a bit. I didn’t mean to…uh– you don’t…find that rude, do you?”
He immediately shakes his head, before lifting an index finger and pointing at the blank notebook page in front you. A little perplexed, you glance at where he's pointing, and your expression grows sullen as you realize two horrible things. One, you’ve written nothing in the past half hour, and two, you’ve managed to break your pencil in half. Your only pencil, for a matter of fact.
You were kind of relieved you had identified the source of that loud snap, but still...how did that happen?
“Do you need one?” Cyno's voice cuts through your train of thought. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a pencil case littered with familiar, gold symbols. “I have plenty to spare, so I have no issue with you taking some.”
He moves a little closer as he says this, and you stiffen up involuntarily. You assume it's so he can give you said pencils, but you're a bit too out of it to remain rational. Come to think of it, would Cyno be even prettier up close? You've been close to him once, but the whole time you had refused to even look at his face–
“Hey.” You feel a tap on your arm from the end of a pen. “Is that a yes or no regarding the pencil?”
Anxiously, you dispel those thoughts; if he ever found out about them, you would never step foot in this library again. “Sorry, sorry! I'm sure you're tired of me zoning out every other sentence, haha. But no, I don't need a pencil. Thank you for the offer, though."
He raises a brow as he tucks the pencil case into his pocket. Though he doesn’t say anything, the skepticism in his eyes is obvious enough. He knows something’s up.
You refuse to answer right away, though. “Hm? What is it?”
He tilts his head to the side. “Is everything alright? Not that you have to answer, but I can tell something is bothering you.”
And there it is.
You sigh dejectedly. “Well, everything’s fine for the most part. I…just don’t feel motivated today.” In a way, you were telling the truth. Lack of motivation did have a grip on you, as well as that feeling of inferiority you’ve been trying to suppress for years.
Cyno remains still for a moment, and then sets his pen aside as he turns towards his bag. Frantically, you stand up, nearly reaching for his arm as you plead, “Wait, wait! Don’t go! I’m sorry if I offended you; I promise I didn’t mean to–”
His perplexed expression lowers your voice to a whisper. After a pause, he runs his fingers through his hair, murmuring. “Why are you apologizing? You haven’t done anything wrong, and I'm not going anywhere.”
The rest of your apologies die mid sentence, and you quickly sit back down. “Oh. My bad.”
He leans back in defeat. It was clear this was not going anywhere. “Seriously, what’s going on? Why have you been apologizing to me so much?”
You stare at him in disbelief. Did he not know that you knew about his identity? Come to think of it, he never pointed out that you'd never refer to him by name. Did he just not care? Did it never even cross his mind?
No, it had to have at least once.
For a moment, you want to tell him the truth, to be honest with him so that he could reassure you were worrying over nothing. For a moment, you want to know his opinion on the rumors surrounding his personality. Surely it wouldn't bother him too much, right? At the end of the day, he was a student just like you, wasn't he?
...
But of course, you’re too much of a coward to take initiative, so instead you scowl at your broken pencil as you tell him, "I don't know. I'm probably just really stressed. I've been told my demeanor changes when I'm stressed."
Cyno folds his hands together, obviously not buying that, but refrains from commenting any further. "Well, let me ask you this: what do you usually do when you're stressed out?"
You chuckle bitterly. "Uh...I just ignore it–" you catch a glimpse of his glare of disapproval and nearly shrivel up in your seat, "–hey! Don't give me that look; I-I've never been good with stress management, okay? I'm sure you have your methods, though."
To your surprise, he responds with, "Not really. If anything, I do what you do."
Your jaw falls slack. And yet here you are, scaring me with that look of disappointment!'
"Why are you making that face?" he frowns, "Is it really that shocking?"
"No no, not at all! I'm sorry!" you sputter. And before he can remind you once again that you have no reason to apologize, you follow up with, "Um, out of curiosity...does stress affect your productivity?"
He narrows his eyes at your question, pondering for a moment, before replying, "Sometimes. That's why I occasionally study with peers; it usually boosts my productivity over time."
"Oh..." your teeth gnaw at your bottom lip. "So...is that why you study here in the library?" You pick up the pieces of your broken pencil, studying them curiously. "Wait no, that has to be why, right?"
He doesn't answer right away, much to your surprise. You assume you were prying a little too much, and open your mouth to shift the topic a bit...until he closes his eyes and presses his mouth against his palm. You assume he's thinking of what to say–he sometimes did that when deep in thought–but you still wonder if there’s another reason why. What if he was embarrassed?
"Uh, hey..." Gingerly, you reach towards him, your hand hovering over his notebook. "You don't have to answer that, you know."
He opens his eyes, giving you a stare you can't decipher. "When I say peers, I'm referring to you as well, you know. That's why I help you with your assignments and regularly visit this spot. Not only is it our only way of communication, I also find it helpful. Relaxing, even."
"I..." You're already stumbling over your words, and you swear you can feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead. How does one even respond to that? That was a compliment, right? Cyno definitely just complimented you, even if that wasn't his intention. The atmosphere grows thicker, weighing on your poor shoulders, and your tongue refuses to budge despite how active your thoughts are. But you know you have to say something, otherwise you'd risk enduring another awkward moment of silence. You have to say something.
And eventually, you do; eyes darting around his face, you blurt out, "You find studying by me relaxing? That's a shock." The regret settles in immediately afterwards; why did you have to resort to deflection of all things?
Cyno tenses, barely concealing his irritation and disbelief. "Why is that so surprising? If you're not under pressure and know what you're doing, studying can be incredibly therapeutic."
"Sorry, but I disagree." you grumble.
"Then why are you here with me right now?" he demands.
Your eyes widen as your nails etch into the wooden table. "Okay okay, hold on. It's not like I hate studying or anything. It's just that...none of the popular methods have really stuck with me."
"There's nothing to 'get the hang of'." he reminds you. "Studying is studying. Everyone has different methods of doing it."
"Yeah, I'm aware..." you sulk, cupping your cheeks with your hands. "Also, to answer your question: I find your presence...kind of grounding, I guess? But that's a more personal reason. I also appreciate how you help me with my homework and topics I struggle with."
Cyno hums in acknowledgement, and for a moment you swear you catch the faintest hint of a smile. "I'm glad to hear that. Out of curiosity, where do you usually study?"
The sudden question throws you for a loop, but you quickly find yourself musing over it. "I study here, of course. Otherwise, I just cram as much as I can when I'm in my room."
"Dormitory room?" he wonders, taking a guess.
You make a sour face as you shake your head. "No, thankfully. I live in an apartment with three other housemates. But yeah...outside of the library, my study habits are kind of all over the place."
He furrows his brows as his bangs sweep across his face. "Well, that's..."
"Sad?" you interrupt, forcing out a laugh. "Pathetic even? Yeah, you don't need to tell me."
"No need for all of that–I wasn't going to insult you ." he mutters in exasperation. Then he sits upright in his seat and retrieves his phone from his pocket. "Have you ever tried studying at Puspa Café? The atmosphere is quite relaxing, and depending on what time you go, there's usually not many people there."
"Puspa Café?" you repeat, lifting your head up from the table. "I've never heard of a place like that. Is it a popular spot?"
"Depends on your definition of popular." he shrugs, "but I would say yes." A few moments later, he turns his phone around to give you a good view of the screen. You lean forward a bit, and after receiving an approving nod from him, you begin scrolling down what seems to be the café's main page. Pictures of the interior, the exterior, and the food and drinks catch your eye, leaving you staring in amazement as you realize how hungry you are.
"Oooo..." you whisper under your breath. "It's pretty."
"It certainly is." he chimes in as you scroll through the page a little more. "You should take a trip there sometime. I visit that place about twice a week."
"Twice a week, huh?" you reiterate, somewhat absentmindedly.
"Yes. I was actually planning to go there once you left."
"Oh?" You say aloud. You take note of the time on his phone, and steal a quick glance at your bag. Maybe. Just maybe...
"Well, uh..." you fret, "how about...we go do that now?"
Cyno stows his phone away and folds his arms. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, uh..." your hand travels to the back of your neck, rubbing it nervously. "If you don't mind, I'd like to accompany you to this café. I'd get to check the place out, and you'd be able to spend time there without having to wait for me to leave first. Two birds with one stone, I guess."
"Ah, that's a smart idea." he compliments, which brings another wave of heat to your face. He places his chin in his hands for a moment, eyes darting around the library interior. "How about we set off in a few minutes, then?"
"Hehe, yeah...that'll be fine.." you reply bashfully. "And uh...there's something I want to talk to you about. And apologize for."
Cyno rolls his eyes. "Again, with these apologies—"
"No, no! This one has an explanation, I swear!" you cut in. "Well, all of them do, but you get what I mean!"
He mumbles inaudibly under his breath, clearly unconvinced, but eventually relents with a nod. "Okay. We'll see."
He's still skeptical, but that's better than nothing. "Do you, uh...should I get ready now, or...?"
He glances at you, picking up his pen. "If you want to. I said 'a few minutes' because I want to review my notes first, but you're not obligated to wait for me, so you can start heading there if you’d like."
"Oh no, that's not necessary." you protest feebly. "It'd be better if we both went at the same time, so I'll just wait."
He eyes you for a moment, pen tapping against the table. "Alright, that's fine."
A nervous laugh accompanies your rushed "thank you!" as you pack the rest of your things and wait. You'd rather not tell him you didn't know–and were too lazy to find out–the address, even if he already knew that.
~