Chapter Text
“That’s him?” Akane Aoi asked, face already morphing into one of disgust. “That’s the guy?”
“Don’t be so loud!”, chimed the indigo-haired girl beside him, Aoi Akane. She looked up at him with an equally disgusted frown. Her nails, already digging harshly in his arm, sank even deeper into his skin to reprimand him. Aoi leaned in, tugging Akane down so she can whisper in his ear. “But, yeah. That’s him. The guy who keeps bugging me.”
Two tables away in the cafeteria, sat Teru Minamoto, along with a couple of second-year students who only hung out with one another due to the sole similarity of excelling in either popularity or financial backing. Teru differed from them by excelling in both, and a couple of others–academics, sports, the arts, you name it. He was the definition of a godsent, perfectly sculpted to appease the masses and convince them to wash away their sins. If one didn’t believe in the rebirth of Jesus before, well, Teru’s the one to make them think otherwise.
And Teru Minamoto, Kamome’s golden boy, with his charming blue eyes and gentle smile, has apparently been infatuated with Akane’s best friend, Aoi.
“He looks like he can beat me in a fight,” Akane inferred as he lazily stirred his glass of lemon juice with the paper straw (Kamome had just recently implemented a new policy to use paper straws instead of plastic ones, something Akane himself had proposed as a student council member. As the straw practically dissolves in his hand, he immediately regrets his decisions). He turns to Aoi, a polite smile on his face–the one he’d flash to faculty members who ordered him around just because of his good student reputation–as he continues, “You’re on your own, Aoi.”
“Hm? What was that?” Aoi’s fingers dug even deeper into his arm, it almost felt like she was twisting it. The sensation made Akane wince, but any words of complaint were bit back once he saw the chilling expression on Aoi’s face. Aoi tilted her head to the side–an action most Kamome students would describe as cute, but Akane Aoi was not most Kamome students; to him, the gesture was almost villainous. Her purple eyes pierced into his, a threatening glare that held no warmth for any hints of defiance, as she spoke slowly, “Surely you won’t let anyone flirt with your beloved girlfriend, not even Minamoto-senpai himself.”
Akane swallowed thickly at Aoi’s choice of words. ‘Girlfriend, she says.’
Akane willed himself not to say anything that could upset Aoi even more (lest he wanted his arm to be completely snapped off). His mind ran through the possible scenarios that could occur with the options he’s been given, similar to those otome games that his friend Yashiro Nene seems to hold a great interest in. He settled on the safest choice, the third option in his visual novel-esque short fantasy, before looking back down at Aoi with a defeated expression.
“Alright, alright,” Akane conceded. “I’ll… try to talk to him about it. Does that work for you?”
Aoi’s face beamed at his words, hands immediately letting go of Akane, though crescent-shaped marks could be seen on his skin as her fingers left them. The sight made Akane frown even more, as he lifted his newly released arm to massage the stiffness in his shoulder that accumulated from being in Aoi’s grasp for so long. “But if it doesn’t work out, then it’s not up to me anymore, alright?”
“Uh-huh, sure,” Aoi’s not paying attention to him now, already satisfied with getting what she wanted. Instead, she’s back to eating her lunch while scrolling through her phone.
Akane sighed, leaning back on his seat with his arms crossed. He snuck a glance at his target, the blonde boy laughing at one of the things said by a girl beside him. As he absentmindedly stared, he called out to Aoi, “Hey, at least give me a heads-up. What’s he like?”
“Uh, charming and romantic..?” Aoi responded with an isn’t-it-obvious tone, looking at Akane with an incredulous face, as if Akane had just asked what color the sky was.
Akane mirrored her expression. “I thought you hated this guy?”
“I do,” Aoi responded quickly as though it was second nature. “That’s what I hate about him.”
Akane turned away from Aoi as he rolled his eyes. “Y’know, most people would die to be in his arms.”
“Well,” Aoi pouted, lips puckering in a way that would make men go to war for her. Her voice lowered as she continued, using her fork to fiddle with her food, “We’re not most people, are we?”
Akane looked back at Aoi, a hint of surprise momentarily seeping into his face. His lips lifted into a wry smile as his eyes narrowed in understanding.
“Yeah,” Akane scoffed. “We’re not most people.”
(They Long To Be) Close to You ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10 Carpenters
“This is stupid,” Akane murmured to himself. He looked down at the text Aoi sent him a few seconds ago, the heart effect that she added to the message only fueling Akane’s irritation.
> girl_friend: you can do this !!
Akane wiped his face with his hand, letting out a small groan in frustration. He gritted his teeth as he tried to type out a response for a couple of seconds, before realizing Aoi wasn’t worth the time and effort. With a mind set on playing his role as Aoi’s “boyfriend”, he tucked his phone inside his pocket and headed towards class 2-A.
The door was already open when he arrived, sounds of chattering reaching his ears outside the confines of the classroom. Wincing at the loud volume of boys playing mobile games and girls gossiping, he peeked his head inside the doorway, eyes scanning the room for any sign of Teru Minamoto.
His eyes raked over the sea of students thoroughly, looking past the girl sketching quietly in her notebook, the boy losing a game of chess to a level 1 robot (how pitiful), and the group of gyarus uncaringly violating dress code policies as they compare nail polish designs.
“He’s not here,” Akane muttered under his breath in realization. He pursed his lips in thought, disappointed that his efforts were fruitless, but relieved he didn’t have to deal with any conflict today. Well, he can always tell Aoi that he tried! It’s not his fault that the golden boy has better things to do during his vacant periods.
“Who’s not here?” Akane looked up in mild surprise, the sound of an unfamiliar voice breaking him out of his train of thought.
“Huh?”
“I said,” The boy in front of him, a student with messy red hair and an undercut that violates the dress code just as much as the gyarus, stepped closer with a mischievous grin. “Who’s not here? Who are you looking for, kid?”
“I’m not a kid.” Akane straightened up as he fixed his glasses. “I’m looking for Minamoto-senpai. Do you know where he is?”
The guy before him hummed as he rubbed his chin with his fingers. If he didn’t look so stupid right now, Akane would mistake him to be thinking. The man, to his credit, is thinking, looking at Akane up and down to study him. He broke into a grin again, before waving at Akane with a dismissive hand. “Nope, not here. Teru doesn’t accept confessions on Fridays.”
Akane wondered if he had stuck the Q-tip too far inside his ear this morning.
His mouth hung open as he stared at the dumb-looking redhead with a face of pure disgust. “What the hell are you talking about?! I’m not confessing to that guy!”
The idiot looked at him with a blank stare that radiated off stupidity, tilting his head in confusion as he pointed at his mouth to think for what seemed to be the first time. “You aren’t?”
“Of course I’m not, you blockhead!” Akane clenched his fists in anger, practically stomping as he tried to emphasize his point.
“Woah, woah, no need to get defensive, man, it was an honest mistake!” The boy raised his hands in mock surrender.
Akane swore he could feel a vein popping. “That just makes it worse!”
“Natsuhiko,” A stern voice cut through their conversation, one that could be recognized by any student in Kamome. Akane’s eyes followed the figure entering the classroom, a clipboard tucked underneath his arm as he glared at the guy–Natsuhiko–who almost caused Akane to die of a heart attack. No, scratch that, Natsuhiko didn’t seem to be the one capable of doing such a thing, because right now, Akane’s heart raced even faster than before as he witnessed the Teru Minamoto up close. Each thread of his golden hair was combed neatly to perfection despite its spikiness, and his eyes shone in a blue that rivaled that of gemstones. The sound of his voice, soft enough to make anyone melt, tugged at his heartstrings, contradictory to the threat concealed underneath his words. “Are you bullying your juniors again?”
Natsuhiko gulped at the anger in Teru’s voice, reaching out to pat his arm as a friendly gesture. “Ah, c’mon, Teru! I was just having fun, that's all! Kept the kid entertained while he waited for ya.”
Akane couldn’t find it in himself to scold Natsuhiko for referring to him as a kid again. His eyes were glued to the man beside him, who displayed elegance and perfection as though it were inherent to him. He internally scolded himself for wasting his time searching for Teru inside the classroom. Teru Minamoto wasn’t the type of guy you had to look for. He commanded your attention like it was one of his many talents, lighting up any room he walked in.
Teru huffed, already used to Natsuhiko’s antics, before turning to Akane with a polite smile. He spoke, gentler this time, “Are you alright? What did you need from me?”
Akane wondered if he had stuck the Q-tip really far this time.
Otherwise, there would be no logical explanation as to why his hands felt so clammy all of a sudden, and why all the lines he practiced with Aoi and Yashiro (mostly taken from the latter’s cheesy love triangle shoujo mangas) died at the tip of his tongue. His mind ran again, browsing through the list of possessive male lead monologues he was cursed to learn.
‘Stay away from her, or else.’ Akane didn’t really have anything to back up that empty bluff.
‘If you truly love Aoi, you’d let her go.’ Eh, too melodramatic.
‘Aoi belongs to me.’ Okay, yeah, that works. Smooth and promising. Makes him sound cool.
Great! Now he just has to actually say it.
“A…” Akane started.
Teru leaned down to listen to him better, eyes looking at him with intense focus. “Hm?”
Their shoulders brushed together. Akane got to see an even closer version of Teru’s side profile, and he wondered if his eyelashes were naturally that long. He caught a whiff of Teru’s perfume, similar to the lemon juice he had during lunch. Akane felt his mind short-circuit, and the words left his mouth before he could even process them.
“Belong to me.”