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Finding the loosely wrapped present in her locker is the first surprise.
Unwrapping it to find a thick, pale blue scarf – that appears handmade – is the second. She doesn’t notice the letter that falls behind her schoolbooks as she admires the stitching and softness of the scarf, promptly wrapping it around her neck, smiling ear to ear as she makes her way to class.
Her friends all have something to say, naturally, since she hadn’t been wearing the scarf when they’d arrived. Upon hearing that she found it in her locker, a small chorus of “ooooh~” erupts.
“Someone has a secret admirer!” “I wonder who it was, I bet he’s really cute!” “I hope he isn’t a creep, after all, how did he get it into your locker?”
She tries to calm everyone down, it’s really not that big of a deal, “I’m sure he’s not a creep.” She says pacifyingly, a little overwhelmed by their response.
She keeps the scarf on until lunchtime, when she only takes it off in fear of spilling something on it. Her friends have mostly let the situation go – for now – despite the knowing looks they give her as she gently sets the scarf down next to her.
Things go pretty much as usual until some of the boys’ volleyball club passes their table en-route to their meeting. A few of them are rough housing, and get a little too close, bumping into her and sending her scarf to the ground. She cries out, more in surprise than pain, and turns to reach for her fallen scarf but is instead met with said garment directly in front of her – held in a large, rough looking hand, attached to an incredibly tall, broad boy.
“Th-thank you.” She reaches for the scarf, but he hesitantly takes it from her reach, and she’s almost upset by the teasing until she notices he’s dusting off the leaves and other debris that had begun to stick to the soft material.
The boy – she recognizes him now, he’s in her class, Aone Takanobu – reaches it back out to her, face determined and yet unreadable. “Thank you, again.” She says, taking it from him. “This was a gift, I’d hate to ruin it.”
He nods, bowing shallowly before turning back to catch up with his teammates, and she turns back to her friends, missing the blush that starts creeping up the back of Aone’s neck and to the tips of his ears.
She sees him again after club activities have ended for the day, and he’s making his way out of the gym. She fondly recalls the way he dusted her scarf off for her, gently, as she walks towards the train station.
It isn’t until she’s almost to her stop that she realizes he’s on the same train, seated alone, just across from where she stands surrounded by people. Deciding that even for the last few minutes it’d be nice to sit down, she makes her way through the throng of people and sits down next to him.
Her third surprise of the day is when he visibly jumps.
She begins apologizing profusely, but he shakes his head and says, “No one sits next to me.”
She begins to apologize even more, worried she’s offended him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, I’ll just stand.” She moves to stand but he grabs at her sleeve, shaking his head again.
He points to the large crowd of people and then back to the seat she just filled, repeating, “No one sits next to me.”
That’s when it dawns on her. And her heart breaks a little. “Oh.” She sits back down and begins to fiddle with her scarf, running her fingers over it. Aone watches her hands move for a few moments, internally warring over whether or not he should say something, when she says, “Thank you again for picking my scarf up, earlier.”
He nods and hums in response, not sure of what else he should say.
“I wish I knew who gave it to me, though. I’d love to thank them, properly.”
That catches his attention. “No note?”
She shakes her head. “None that I saw. I’ll have to check tomorrow.” She looks up at him, smiling brightly. “So do you enjoy volleyball?”
He nods again. “Yes.”
“Can I ask why you started playing?” She’s watching his face intently and he starts to feel the familiar heat of a blush rising on his face, unused to this kind of attention.
“My height.”
She hums thoughtfully, considering his answer before asking another question. “But now? Why do you play now?”
He looks down at her, confused, “Because I enjoy it.” She hums again and he watches her fingers move from running over her scarf to carding through her hair and he can’t help it – he’s a little bit mesmerized.
She doesn’t seem to notice him staring, and if she does, she doesn’t seem to care. An announcement goes off, listing the upcoming stop, and he’s pulled from his daze as she pulls her fingers from her hair to gather her things as the train comes to a stop. When she stands he follows suit and she asks, “Oh! Is this your stop too?”
“Yes.” It’s not.
They get off the train together, walking side by side in silence for a few minutes before she breaks it, asking, “Have you started studying for the Japanese lit test yet?”
He shakes his head, thoughts swimming, unsure of what’s happening.
“Would you like to come over and study with me? I find that studying with someone usually helps me remember the material better. Have you done all the reading?”
He has no idea how this has managed to happen but there are butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he nods his head, a microscopic almost not-there smile making its way to his face.
“Well alright then! It’s decided.”
Aone can’t remember the last time he’s felt so nervous. Except that he can, because it was that morning, when Futakuchi had – despite Aone’s misgivings – picked the lock on her locker so he could put the scarf there.
They make their way to her house, where she unlocks the door and calls out, “Dad, I’m home!”
Aone ducks his head to fit through the doorway, following her example when she takes her shoes off and makes her way into the kitchen. Her father, a man nearly the same height as Aone, is standing at the stove, and looks over his shoulder with a questioning look when he hears more than one set of footsteps approaching.
“And who’s this?”
“This is Aone Takanobu, dad. We’re in class together. We’re going to study for the upcoming lit test, okay? And he’ll be here for dinner.”
Her dad purses his lips, giving Aone a once over. “You play sports, son? You’re pretty tall.”
“V-volleyball, sir.”
He considers for a few moments before nodding, using the spoon in his hand to gesture towards the door. “Alright, now the two of you go study. I’ll call when dinner’s ready.”
Aone follows her out of the kitchen and jumps when he hears her father say, “And leave the door open!”
When they get to her room, she complies to her father’s wishes as she settles herself onto her bed, pulling her notes and the texts from her bag. She looks up and sees Aone standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, so she smiles gently and pats the space across from her bed, ordering him to “Sit down!” with a laugh.
Aone’s sure his heart is going to thunder out of his chest.
The night goes fairly smoothly – although Aone attributes it to the fact that he doesn’t speak much other than when she asks him a question about the readings, or at dinner when her father asks him about volleyball and his plans for the future – he plans on going to college, sir, to be an accountant, sir – and then a bit more studying before it got too late and he had to leave to catch a train home.
Periodically throughout the night, she’s struck with the thought of how anyone could be afraid of Aone, because every movement of his is soft and gentle, and sure, he’s tall and broad and his face is a little intimidating but underneath it all, he’s handsome – the way his mouth shapes around words when he speaks, the way he raps his knuckles on his notebook, the way his eyes widen when she asks him a question.
No, she decides. Not scary at all.
Especially when she finds him waiting outside for her the next morning before school.
“Good morning!” She calls, surprised to see him there but certainly not unpleased. “To the train?”
He nods, glad she isn’t angry to see him there. He’d had to leave a little bit earlier to make an earlier train, so he could meet her here, but seeing the smile on her face is entirely worth it.
“Oh!” She says suddenly, once they’re seated on the train and on their way towards the school, “You forgot this at my house last night.”
He blushes furiously, all too aware of the implications of what she’s saying, but she seems unbothered. She pulls out his texts, all marked with sticky notes. “You were in such a hurry last night you must have forgotten to grab them.”
He takes them from her and puts them into his bag, muttering a soft “Th-thank you.”
The rest of the train ride consists of mostly comfortable silence, with her reading through her notes some more and Aone trying not to burst into nervous flames.
They walk to the school together as well, even after she sees her friends and waves to them after they try to beckon her away from Aone – and he pretends not to notice that they’re clearly terrified of him, because that’s not what matters, because she stays next to him and she clearly isn’t afraid and his chest feels full and bright.
Their weeks continue like this in such a manner – they take the train and then walk to school and to class together, her friends try to pry her away. After school they study together, he’s become a sort of regular fixture at her dinner table – they’ve even spent a number of off days together, have exchanged numbers and text each other often, spending whole days just out walking together, and she always, always wears the scarf.
Things are going incredibly well for Aone and he can’t remember the last time he’s been so happy.
He walks with her to her locker in a blissful daze one morning, much like usual, and it isn’t until he hears her go “Oh!” that he remembers his question from a few weeks ago, when she’d first sat next to him on the train.
“No note?”
She found the note.
She’s reading it, and her cheeks are flushing, and he wants to die, he hadn’t meant to be here for this moment, that was the whole point of the note, the whole point of not giving it to her in person so he wouldn’t have to deal with this – deal with her rejection, although he almost thinks he could bare it if he could just hear her speak to him some more.
“Aone, I…” He starts when she says his name, and he looks down at her, and she’s looking up at him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and he’s sure his face is just as red, and he nods, not trusting himself to talk for fear of saying something horribly wrong.
“Aone. Aone, I…I like you too, Aone.”
He’s hearing things. He’s sure of it. He looks down at her with confusion plain on his face, and she smiles, fingers of one hand wrapped tightly around the scarf he’d taken so much care to make for her, her other hand reaching out to take his.
“I like you too, Aone. Really. I mean it. Do you…wanna go out this weekend?”
He nods so hard he’s sure he’s given himself whiplash.