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Tamaki flicked his pencil eraser against the closed seam of his lips, forehead creasing as he squinted to see the chalkboard at the front of the room. Mr. Fujimoto was going on about subtraction and negative numbers, but Tamaki couldn’t quite see what was happening to the equation on the board. He glanced around at his peers to gauge their reactions to the lesson. They seemed to be getting it just fine. Tamaki huffed through his nose quietly, swung his feet and tapped his pencil eraser against his lips again. He didn’t like sitting in the back sometimes.
When class was over, his head ached and his eyes were so tired he began to fantasize about taking a nap when he got home. Tamaki couldn’t help but curiously linger by the chalkboard a little to get a proper look at its contents. The other students were at their cubbies getting their bags and jackets on their backs, eager to get out the school doors.
“How do you feel about today's lesson, Amajiki-kun? Not too hard, right?” Mr. Fujimoto shuffled up beside him, making Tamaki jolt hard enough for his feet to leave the ground briefly.
Tamaki whipped his head up to stare the man in the eyes before looking away sharply. His eyes became glued to the ground as he knotted his fists up, playing with his thumbs. “No . . . I don’t know.” Tamaki shrugged dismissively.
Mr. Fujimoto was a tall man, with a large flat nose, tired eyes and warm ginger hair that hung around his face thickly. He had a relatively plain appearance, which Tamaki found reassuring. He always talked to Tamaki gently, and didn’t make him read in front of the class . . . That often, anyway.
His teacher raised a curious brow. “You don’t know?”
Tamaki was getting flustered, he shrugged again and twisted his hands into a more complicated tangle that was growing gradually sweatier. “It’s only hard because— because the chalk is light.” Tamaki scrambled for an excuse as to why his homework could possibly be looking a little wonky in the near future.
Mr. Fujimoto looked at the board and then back to Tamaki. “Huh. You think so?”
Tamaki nodded, not brave enough to take a peek at Mr. Fujimoto’s expression. It sounded reasonable enough, right? Except now that he was right in front of the board the numbers didn’t look as faint as they did before. His lips tugged into a worried frown.
“Do you want to try sitting up front tomorrow? Maybe you’ll see it better. You can see it from here right?”
Well, that was a funny question. “I can see it,” Tamaki mumbled, reading off the equation in his head to double check.
“Thought so.” Mr. Fujimoto spoke reassuringly. “Well, how ‘bout it? Right— umm, how’s there sound? For tomorrow?” He pointed at the desk that was in the second row, two desks to the left of where Mr. Fujimoto’s teacher desk sat in front of the chalkboard.
Tamaki just wanted to leave the conversation at that point, mindlessly nodding. Mirio was starting to call for him to hurry up, too. “Okay.” He hoped whoever regularly sat there wouldn’t be mad at him for taking their seat. Even just for a day.
“Looks like your friend needs you. Have a good day, Amajiki-kun, get home safe.”
Tamaki was relieved for the dismissal and bowed his head briefly in thanks, barely muttering out his goodbye towards the tiled floor.
He quickly turned away and bolted before he could be called back, relieved to reach his familiar black backpack, the leather smooth beneath his palms. Tamaki sighed in relief as he slipped into the baggy grey sweater Mama had recently bought him. His heart was still racing from the one on one conversation, he tried to avoid those, even if Mr. Fujimoto was nice, it was still scary. Tamaki felt like it would always be that way for things like that.
“Hey! Tamaki, were you in trouble? With sensei? Were ya?” Mirio was bouncing in place, his school slippers scuffing along the floor. Tamaki knew Mirio had gotten new sneakers that lit up when he stomped, but he couldn’t wear those til they got out of the commons.
Tamaki was a little jealous, but he doubted Mama would buy him anything like that. Dad would probably take them away from him and call them an eyesore. They didn’t hurt Tamaki’s eyes though.
“No, ‘m not in trouble.” Tamaki slipped his bag straps over his shoulders, only struggling on the second strap for a moment. He grabbed his lunch box, plain baby blue with three green bugs trotting in a line printed on the lid.
Mirio frowned and swung his arms back and forth, “Then what was sensei talking to you for?”
“He was just asking if I understood the homework. Is your dad picking us up today . . ?”
“Oh. Nah, we’re walking! Pops told me he made snacks for us though, and he’ll be home soon.” The snacks were most likely going to be chips and tuna sandwiches, which Tamaki didn’t mind. Mr. Togata just tended to make them a little soggy.
“I’m glad I don’t gotta walk all the way to my house . . .” Tamaki sighed softly. Or be alone for the couple hours it was before Mama got home from work. Tamaki pursed his lips while looking around Mirio’s golden tufts of hair. Mr. Fujimoto was in the doorway waving students off, leaning against the door to keep it open.
“Me too! Wouldn’t it be funny if we went to your house?” Mirio giggled.
Tamaki made a face, “Not really. It’s farther.”
“Yeah, it is.” Mirio agreed in an oddly cheerful manner. He charged toward the propped open door. “Let’s go see what Pops got for us!”
Tamaki half heartedly rushed to keep up but ultimately slowed down when Mr. Fujimoto reminded them about the rule of no running in the halls.
____
“Mrs. Amajiki—“
“I’d like it if you called me Mitsuko, please.” She interrupted politely, a small smile on her face.
“Of course, Miss Mitsuko, my apologies.” Mr. Fujimoto busied his hands and tucked a red pencil behind his ear.
“No worries,” Mitsuko waved her hand airily while adjusting her skirt with her other hand. She hadn’t thought that parent teacher conferences were due so soon. Well, she had marked it on her calendar and this was the wrong date, so she was more than a little confused. “I’m a bit curious about what this meeting is for, did—“ A sudden idea popped into her head that made anxiety take root in her belly. “Tamaki didn’t cause any trouble did he? He’s a good boy, I can’t imagine—“
Mr. Fujimoto chuckled, “No, no, no, I can assure you it’s nothing like that Miss Mitsuko, I’m sorry for causing you any concern.”
Mitsuko went lax in her chair, fanning her face with a small laugh, “Thank goodness. I know the move had been hard on him for a bit, but he’s not a troublemaker, he’s more . . . He’s— well. Shy.”
Her sons’ third grade teacher nodded “I understand. Like you said, he’s a good kid, but I'm just a tad worried over his eyesight.” Mr. Fujimoto confessed.
Mitsuko’s eyes widened, “His eyesight? Why, have you noticed anything?” Her mind was immediately racing for clues, she hasn’t had the time or energy to really look into things like that lately. He hasn’t exactly been tested in the last two years, so it could be a new development. She didn’t recall Tamaki complaining about his vision either. But, he didn’t often complain when he should.
Mr. Fujimoto nodded, “Yes, well, Tamaki-kun has been having noticeable issues focusing on the board from his seat. If you’d like, I can show you where he usually sits.” He stood from his desk and nodded toward the rows of seats.
Mitsuko followed his lead. “Yes, yes, please.”
She was guided to the middle row near the back of the classroom. The room itself wasn’t very big, so the distance from the board wasn’t a great one. She could read the half erased letters relatively easily from this distance. A small anxious crinkle etched into the corners of her lips, and she clutched her handbag to her thigh. Was Tamaki really struggling to see the board from this far away? Bad enough she was being notified?
“I’ve seen him squinting and shifting a lot more than the other students, and after class he even comes up to the board for a better look, like he never gets the whole gist of it during class.” Mr. Fujimoto explained, resting on another desk nearby.
Mitsuko gently dragged her hand along the top of her son's desk. “So, this is definitely affecting his learning?”
“Yes, I believe so.” Mr. Fujimoto nodded and walked up to the front of the classroom and stopped at another desk in the second row. “But, I’ve been holding a small experiment. I’ve had Tamaki sit much closer to the board, here, just to see how he does.” He knocked with a light fist on the pale wood.
Mr. Fujimoto smiled a relaxed smile, “He’s been engaging a lot more now, and he doesn’t seem to be struggling as much with seeing the chalk. I think he’s less stressed, and he goes straight to his backpack after class.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful! Thank you for making that adjustment for him, sir.” Mitsuko felt lighter knowing her baby was being so well cared for in the learning environment. This new school was so attentive.
“However, this is only a temporary fix, Miss Mitsuko. I’m happy to have Tamaki-kun up front, especially if it benefits him, but I think glasses would be a much more permanent, and helpful, tool for him to continue to succeed in his school career.”
Mitsuko nodded and bowed, “Yes! I absolutely agree, thank you so, so much for meeting with me and bringing this to my attention, Mr. Fujimoto! I’ll definitely look into it.”
___
“I can see, stop being weird.” Tamaki squinted at the piece of paper Mama held up from across the room. She scoffed and took another step back and flipped the paper over to reveal a series of numbers written in black ink.
“Can you tell me what these numbers are?” She flicked the paper, making a rippling sound.
Tamaki frowned. “This is dumb . . .”
“Tamaki! Please.”
He gave in and focused on the paper. “Nine, eight, um. Six? Two and seven.” Tamaki honestly was guessing, the numbers were blurring together a little, but he doubted he was wrong. The longer he looked at them the more sure he felt that he was right.
Mama’s hands fell to her sides and she shook her head, “Tamaki . . .” She walked back over to him and handed him the paper, pointing at the numbers. “It’s zero, three, five, two, one.”
He’d only gotten one number right. Embarrassment quickly took hold of him, making him quiet as he reread the paper. The numbers were obvious now, he’d totally gotten it wrong! And they weren’t written small either. Tamaki bit his lip, “I’m sorry, Mama, I—I swear I tried.” He looked her in the eye. “You were just kind of far away,” he reasoned. Mama ran her fingers through his hair and squatted to get to his level where he was on the couch cushions.
“I know you tried, thank you. I just wanted to see how you did.” She tucked his overgrown bangs behind his ear and Tamaki looked away to pout at the numbers.
“I messed up though,” he muttered, cheeks hot with failure.
Mama cupped his face and tilted his head, silently telling him to look at her. “You did perfect. You helped me so much, now we know that Mama needs to help you take a real test so you can get some glasses.”
Tamaki’s face screwed up, “What? What do you mean get glasses?! I don’t need them, I can see normal,” Tamaki insisted. No way could he get glasses! He’d look stupid! Everyone would look at him if he went to school with glasses on. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“That’s right, there’s nothing wrong with you. Your eyes just need a little help is all.” She sat next to him on the couch, “Why don’t you want glasses, sweetheart?”
Tamaki’s fingers were starting to subconsciously tear the corners of the paper and Mama gently took it away from him. He started picking at the loose string on his pants instead. “People will look at me.” Tamaki’s shoulders arched up.
“And compliment you on how handsome you look in your new glasses, right?” Mama sounded like she was smiling when she wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a warm squeeze. Tamaki hid his face in her fluffy cardigan and shook his head.
“Nooo! I’m gonna look dumb.”
“Please, stop saying that word, Tamaki.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re going to look fine, you’re a very dashing boy. Some glasses aren’t going to change that. I assure you that you’ll only get positive attention, okay?”
“I don’t want any attention at all . . .” Tamaki muttered into her shoulder.
Mama chuckled, Tamaki felt her body shift with the sound. She smelled like the rosemary that was growing on the windowsill. “That’s not true, what about Mirio?” She squeezed him again, her fingers tickling his sides making him huff out a giggle before he whined at her to stop.
“Mirio’s different, he’s my fr— Mama!” He pulled away from her to gasp for air, his face contorting into a smile. “You’re being unfair!”
“I’m going to make an appointment!” She announced, squeezing him close so he could muffle his laughter in her neck, “And you’re going to look amazing in your new glasses! If you really don’t like them we can try to get you some contacts instead. You need a prescription first, though.”
Tamaki didn’t really know what she was talking about anymore, uninterested and succumbing to his new fate. “Okay.”
___
Tamaki could admit that the glasses were in fact helpful. He spent the ride home after getting them staring out the window, fascinated by all of the trees and their individual leaves, and the expressions of the passing people. His new glasses were black and made of thin wire, he was glad they weren’t the standard blocky nerd frames. Tamaki got to pick these out himself!
Tamaki had fun exploring their apartment and trying to see how far he could see things before the item or words were impossible to make out.
“You liking your new glasses, Tamaki?” Mama set a plate full of banana and apple slices in front of him, resting her elbow on the head of Tamaki’s chair.
Tamaki had taken them off to eat, blinking his eyes to get used to not wearing them. Tamaki gnawed off the red skin of the apple, chewing longer than necessary to put off answering the question. “They’re cool.” He looked at the neatly folded spectacles set off to the side of the plate.
“You excited to show them off tomorrow?” Mama bent down and popped a bite of banana into her mouth, humming at the yummy taste.
Tamaki wrinkled his nose and shook his head, pouting as he took a bite out of the flesh of the apple.
Mama laughed softly. “I know Mirio will be excited to see you rockin’ them!”
Tamaki shrugged, “I guess. He said his dad wears them when he, um, when he has to do stuff for his sewing.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s cool.”
“Mm.” Tamaki was done talking, busy munching on his second apple slice. Mama chuckled and ruffled his hair before she left for the kitchen to prepare dinner.
Tamaki was a little nervous about Mirio seeing him in his glasses for the first time. Mirio never teased him much, and when he did it was never in a way that made Tamaki feel hurt or sad like dad did sometimes. Tamaki stared at his glasses again, his stomach cramping a little as he swallowed a mushed banana slice.
“Tomorrow will be great!” Mama exclaimed over the sound of the kitchen sink running.
—
Tamaki felt like a mess of nerves, squeezing his new glossy glasses case between his sweaty hands, opening and closing it with a ‘clack!’ sound that was for sure driving Ma crazy, but he didn’t have enough room in his head to worry about that. His eyes were glued to his school coming into view. He wished his seatbelt would get stuck so he’d have an excuse to stay in the warmth of Mama’s car.
“Here we are, baby.” She smoothly pulled into the drop off lane. He usually liked that it wasn’t busy, since most kids walked to school in groups. But today, he wished there had been some form of traffic. Mama turned around to look at him, a warm smile on her round face. She had her hair up in a claw clip that made Tamaki think of sharks with big teeth, and her simple pearl earrings added to Tamaki’s made up ocean theme he had subconsciously going in his head.
“You all set? I’ll see you after work. You’re going to Mr. Togata’s again, just like always!” Her voice was softer in the mornings, especially when he had to leave her.
“My stomach hurts.” Tamaki frowned, his own voice even smaller than usual.
They shouldn’t be lingering in the lane for any longer, drop off was supposed to be fast. He really didn’t want to go, not like this, with his glasses perched on his nose, the legs shelved on his wilting ears. Tamaki’s fingers shakily messed with his seatbelt.
Mama’s face sweetened with sympathy, “I’m sorry, honey. But I have to go to work, and you have to go to school. It will be okay. You’re so very handsome, I promise. You don’t have to wear your glasses all the time, just during your lessons.”
Tamaki’s face felt hot, and he nodded his understanding. He unbuckled himself, a fleeting thought passing through his turbulent head. This was his second week without a booster seat. He felt incredibly tiny in the new space he was growing into, and he knew he was only going to feel smaller once he stepped inside the school, out into the public.
Mama took his hint that he was leaving, her brows wrinkling further, but her smile remained the same. “I love you!” The doors unlocked automatically with the flick of a key in the driver's seat.
Tamaki opened the door, sliding out onto the pavement with his hard leather backpack in tow. He looked up at her through his lenses. “I love you, Mama.”