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Fuyumi didn’t know why she couldn’t stop looking at him.
Okay, maybe she did. It was called a crush, she’d had those before. But she couldn’t understand why.
Alright, scratch that. He was attractive and popular and smart and charismatic. At least half the school also had a crush on him. She was a little surprised at herself because normally she didn’t develop crushes until after a few interactions where she could get a feel for the person and develop a connection, but this guy she had always watched from afar.
At first it had just been because he was noticeable. He was handsome and well known. Noise followed him where he went: laughter, whispers, giggles, confrontations sometimes. Plus, he was also bright. In every sense of the word. His hair was a dark golden that shone under the classroom lights, and he liked to wear colorful red accents and shiny jewelry with his loud jackets, oversized sports shirts and baggy pants. Today he was wearing a polo shirt with a collar that appeared to be ironed, which was a little out of the ordinary, but he still looked good. He had a bright personality, always cracking jokes and sending blinding smiles at everybody. All it had taken was seeing him bump into a random person and apologize sincerely, grinning wide enough to show off his dimples, and that had been it. She’d halted, mesmerized in front of her locker, unable to tear her gaze away from him. That had been the moment she’d realized she wanted to keep noticing him. He was so warm. Not hot, like her father and Touya and Natsuo who were so heated she could get burned by their tempers, but warm, mellow, comfortable.
And as untouchable as a warm ray of sunlight.
She looked at him again, peeking from behind her thick rectangular glasses. She was a little ways down the hall, seated on a bench and pretending to read a book while she cast covert looks at him. He let out a loud laugh with one of his friends, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He grinned widely, turning his head at just the right moment and their gazes caught. Fuyumi froze. Shoot. His smile morphed into something more hesitant and she looked away, mortified.
Oh my God, she ducked behind the book to cover her flaming cheeks. He had totally caught her staring and now thought she was some sort of creep!
Fuyumi wasn’t normally shy. She wasn’t even an introvert. She was friendly to everyone and knew how to keep a conversation going. She was popular, in the sense that everyone knew her well enough to give her a smile in the hallways. She knew how to get things done and take the lead; she had, after all, been voted class representative after helping so many of her classmates. But despite her ability to advocate to teachers on behalf of her classmates and stand up to bullies, she never managed to achieve anything like that for herself. Her friends told her to do things for herself sometimes, often citing talking to a cute boy as the way to go. But Hawks was so out of her league, even someone with an inflated sense of self worth could hardly think they’d measure up to him. She couldn’t really talk to anyone if it wasn’t listening to their problems or directing them firmly with their homework. Hawks was a smooth talker, only a girl who could match him would be able to catch his eye, not a girl who wasn’t even able to meet his gaze.
She’d never be able to look at him now after that! He’d probably put some social restraining order on her before they’d even had a conversation! Not that they ever would, but Fuyumi wanted to know what this draw was to him. She liked understanding things. She liked figuring things out. She wanted to know about him.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it, Fuyumi, she told herself sternly as the urge to look at him itched. You are already mortified. You will die if he catches you again. This mortification was nearly as strong as when she’d accidentally served her father the wrong plate and had to deal with his extremely displeased face when he finished coughing from the overly spicy food. Eh, she’d already embarrassed herself, hadn’t she? And she’d survived her father; she could handle Hawks, too. What was one more glance?
He wasn’t paying attention anymore, but Fuyumi knew better than to look for too long. She’d already been caught once, and that was bad enough but explainable. Twice, though. That would be too much of a coincidence. And was the first time really explainable if she never explained?
Well, said a voice that sounded irritatingly like Natsuo - or no, worse, what she’d be saying to Natsuo were he in this situation - Maybe you should go over and explain yourself, then. And that’s a conversation, which is one step closer to getting to know him.
She was too smart for her own good. How did Natsuo stand her?
No, she thought firmly (petulantly), I don’t want to do that. But she was a problem solver, and once she’d found the answer to something it was impossible not to see it through. (It was why Touya had had to take over helping Natsuo with his homework one too many times.)
Maybe she could just say hi, pretend that she hadn’t been spying on him. Maybe she could make a joke about their eyes catching with some clever quip of … no, she had nothing.
Just do it, she told herself. Be brave, like Shouto and Natsuo … and Touya and Mom and Dad. Be something, Fuyumi. Be like the rest of your family for once.
Okay, okay, she was going. She stood up, putting her book in her bag. She’d taken enough classes that talked about mental health to know that way of thinking wasn’t exactly healthy, but when it got her to do things, she supposed it was useful enough.
Deep breaths. It was a conversation, nothing she had to lose her cool about. She was calm, collected. She was going to have a conversation with her crush and act like she wasn’t crushing on him. It didn’t even have to be a conversation, just something to prove she wasn’t creepy and mute. She brushed off her skirt and turned around, squaring her shoulders before she began to walk to him and his little circle of friends. He almost turned and saw her, and Fuyumi had half a mind to fling herself on the floor to duck under his gaze, but he shifted before he saw her. She sagged in relief.
The relief was short-lived.
His attention had been caught by a girl bounding up to him. A senior, loud and boisterous and sporty, just like him. Usagiyama threw her arms around Hawks, mussing his hair and making him push her off him affrontedly with a wide, fond expression. His face was flushed and he bit his lip as she talked to him, shaking his hair out of his eyes as if in slow motion.
Oh.
It was okay, Fuyumi wanted to tell herself. He was allowed to look like that at other girls - of course he would. She didn’t have any claim to him; he didn’t even know she existed! And who wouldn’t be enamored with Usagiyama, with her ridiculously muscular and attractive legs on display. She’d cuffed Natsuo one too many times on the head for staring a little too intently at her short, short skirt.
Still, she wilted. Her silly little fantasy of striking up a conversation with Hawks was ridiculous; who would want to talk to another girl with Usagiyama by their side? Fuyumi was nothing, just a shy, silly little girl with nothing to offer. It was humiliating. She would never be that girl, and it was stupid to try. She was stupid, and creepy, and she really wanted to hide.
She clutched her bag and tried to disappear into the throng of students. You lost your chance, she told herself. If only you had made a move sooner. She found the classroom for her next class and set her things down before collapsing into a chair near the back of the classroom. She knew she was going to agonize over this the rest of the night when she got home, wondering what she could have done differently to prevent this heartache. She opened her Calculus textbook to read over the lesson before it began and didn’t quite manage to catch her tears before they fell on the pristine print. She sniffed and took off her glasses, swiping her eyes and setting them on the desk before her. It was okay, she told herself. Feelings hurt, they melted into hot wax that singed her fingertips, but she could bottle them up, pour them into an ice cube tray and shove them into the cold recesses in the back of her mind.
I wish …
She was looking again. Hawks felt a thrill run up his spine. It was an odd little game they played, her sneaking glances, and him awkwardly trying to encourage it. It made his blood heat up the same way he felt when a particularly skilled opponent was marking him on the field, which was hard to do. He was Hawks, the fastest player in the district. He ran circles around most players, but proper competition - an equal - was rare to come by. It was a careful pattern of steps and he did his best to match her every step forward or back with his own. Bubaigawara cracked a joke about his outfit and he laughed more than he should have, high off the giddy feeling of her shy attention. He couldn’t stop his head from automatically turning her way as he opened his eyes and for one breathless second their gazes met. He gave her a hesitant smile. She held all the cards. She started this game and Hawks was too terrified to do anything that might scare her away. He was just waiting for the right moment where he’ll finally get the signal it was okay to approach her - or better yet, for her to approach him.
She looked away and Hawks felt disappointment course through him. Damn, so they weren’t there yet. But that was okay. Hawks’ charm and good look had failed him yet.
He looked good … right?
He glanced down self consciously. His normal attire was often quiet slouchy and loose, with baggy shirts and trousers, but Fuyumi (it had been so hard to learn her name at first because everyone had known her and he couldn’t be that uncool douchebag who’d never heard of the sweetheart she was) was always so sleek, never with any stains or wrinkles on her loose blouses or off-the-shoulder sweaters. She preferred a comfy and cozy style, but held herself like she was advertising high end wear on the runway. Her back was straight and her eyes were piercing even from behind her glasses. Her curves were noticeable despite her clothes never calling specific attention to them (but why wouldn’t he notice them? He was a teenage boy and she was a beautiful girl - and he was far from the only one to notice). He bet she’d look spectacular in one of his jerseys. They were comfy and soft, and he was getting way ahead of himself because he hadn’t even managed to talk to her which must mean he hadn’t impressed her yet.
So Hawks had carefully ironed out his shirt today, popping the collar and choosing pants that had been neatly folded and untouched in a drawer instead of snagging a pair from the floor that had been there for God-knows-how-long.
Maybe it was his hair, he thought suddenly as he absentmindedly ran a hand through his it. He had combed it today, but really didn’t know how to tame it. Usually girls went for the unruly, untamed look but Fuyumi didn’t seem to have those standards. She was always put together, serious and refreshingly down to earth when talking to everyone. He had been observing her back for a while; she’d never indicated she noticed him. She was making him wait for her. He’d never felt compelled to stop for anyone before. He was always striding ahead - flying, really - intent on winning the race that was life. It wasn’t heartlessness when he left a trail of broken hearts in his wake, it was just that they couldn’t keep up and while Hawks had tried to carry them he had hated the burden of their extra weight. So he had cordially let them down as gently as he could. He’d never tried to attract them in the first place either, but companionship was nice, albeit short lived when they offered. Yet here he was, agonizing over a girl who had never spoken a word to him, waiting with baited breath for a chance to shoot his shot with her. He felt her glance away again and turned around to take a turn at leisurely observing her.
Fuyumi was always one step ahead. She was always the one with the extra pencil, the extra lunch, even a clean shirt once according to a girl he’d dated once upon a time. She was always looking hopefully towards a better future, and striding towards it as fast as she could. Hawks knew how to stop and appreciate the present, but the future was always calling him, spurring to catch up to it. But sometimes, on those days he’d collapsed into bed, too tired to move and worn out from pushing himself to the brink, he wondered what might happen if things were different. Fuyumi wouldn’t hold him back. She’d keep pace right alongside him and maybe if he had to carry her she’d point out important details he’d missed along the way. She was, of course, out of his league. Her dad was Enji Todoroki the legendary prosecutor, for goodness’s sake, which made her rich and accomplished and the daughter of his literal idol. He didn’t know how he hadn’t seen the similarities at first. Sure, she was quiet and soft but she had that same steely, no nonsense authority that made him instantly snap to attention with a yes, ma’am .
She was hiding behind the book; it was held too close to her face for her to actually be reading it. He stifled a chuckle. She was cute. Her eyes behind her glasses were moving too fast for her to be absorbing any information about … about Calculus. A strand of hair fell into her eyes and she brushed it back quickly. Her hair was light, so light it was practically white, and she had added bright red streaks in her hair last semester that looked almost feathery. He liked it. It was a little shocking but she managed to pull it off, hinting at a more rebellious or playful side he had yet to discover.
He looked back at his friends before they noticed who he was looking at and teased him mercilessly for it. He’d have to think of a better way to catch her attention- maybe bumping into her at lunch? Maybe buying her lunch and learning her favorite foods?
Movement from her corner of the hallway caught his eye, and he fought not to snap to attention. Was she - yes! She was coming. She was walking towards him. He almost turned right around, but then decided against it. He would let her come to him, yeah, and then he could turn around with one of his signature blinding smiles and ask her for her number. Or, maybe that was too forward. He could ask her how she liked her classes. Or no, that was lame. He could invite her to one of his games! Yes, and he’d get her a special seat.
Rumi came bounding up to him, slinging her arms around his shoulder, still in her cheerleading cropped top and skirt. He tried to push her off of him irritably, but couldn’t stop his dreamy smile as he waited for Fuyumi to come over. His dimples were visible, right? He smiled wider just to make sure and then bit his lip, unnecessarily nervous. He could be cool, couldn’t he? He knew he was plenty smart, but was he intelligent enough to appeal to her intellect? He tried to move a lock of hair that was falling into his eyes with a little toss, annoyed at it and how long she was taking. She was coming, right? He turned just to make sure.
Just to catch sight of one of her red highlights flashing behind someone in the crowd. He blinked, surprised, and she didn’t reappear. What? He looked around the halls, craning his head to try to see over the heads of his peers.
Wait.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She - he - they were supposed to talk. He could’ve said something cool and made her laugh. She could have tucked that maddeningly short lock of hair that always strayed from her ponytail behind her ear. He could have invited her to one of his games with a grand sweep of his arms. She could have blushed but promised she’d be there. Or at the very least, they could have just said hi, and he would have been able to start his multi step plan of running into her after practice when she was done tutoring or moving the table he sat at for lunch next to hers until they could talk again and he could work up the courage to ask her out. He needed her - he needed her to - why wasn’t she here? He felt lost, untethered, like he’d flown too far up in the sky and didn’t know which way led back to the ground. The chatter of his friends faded around him and all of a sudden the hot sunlight of late spring felt like a frigid breeze that chilled him to his very bones. His arm raised limply of his own accord, as if he could somehow catch her before she could slip away.
Come back.