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Teshima, pay attention to me. Teshima, look at me. No, stop answering math questions, look. At. ME. I know the teacher will think you’re cheating on the test but just. Come on. PLEASE.
Such are the thoughts that Aoyagi is trying to beam into his boyfriend’s brain. They are midway through a particularly difficult pre-calculus test, and the room is utterly silent. The only sounds are scratching pencils and the ticking of the wall clock.
Aoyagi doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, but if Teshima doesn’t get the message soon, he’s going to have to. Which means that people will look at him, possibly even say words to him, words to which he might be obliged to respond.
The reason people might look at him is that his throat is tight with an unreleased coughing fit, and it feels like tiny little bugs are crawling around inside his nose. Stifling both of these bodily functions takes a lot of mental and physical energy.
It’s possible that he’s using so much of said energy on staying quiet that he doesn’t have any left to get Teshima’s attention. It’s also possible that Teshima is so absorbed in the math that his Aoyagi-receptors are turned off. The test is important and hard, even for someone like Teshima who is good at math.
Whatever the reason, Aoyagi needs to figure out how to get Teshima’s attention, fast, before he starts coughing and alerts everyone in the class to his existence.
Teshima. Look at me. LOOK AT ME.
If Teshima would just turn around, he’d be able to see what Aoyagi needed from him. Aoyagi’s face is flushed and sweaty with fever, his eyes glazed and ringed with exhaustion. His mouth is hanging open because he can’t breathe through his nose, but he’s covering it, panting through the slats between his fingers, because if anybody hears him cough he will evaporate with shame.
Aoyagi needs to be excused to go to the nurse’s office. With how dizzy he’s feeling, he probably needs Teshima to escort him. Otherwise he might walk into a wall.
Teshima! Teshima!!
This is hopeless. Teshima is fully absorbed in his exam. He won’t look behind him, won’t notice that anything is wrong until the test is over.
Although that’s only half an hour, it seems like ten thousand years.
It wouldn’t seem like such a terribly long time if Aoyagi didn’t have to suppress every single thing that his body was trying to do. The crawling in his nose and throat haven’t let up for a minute, and there’s only so much scratching his nose and quietly clearing his throat will do. He’ll cough eventually and he’ll sneeze eventually. If it’s one or the other he hopes it’s coughing. If he sneezes, and can’t suppress it properly, his classmates will know what his voice sounds like. If they know what his voice sounds like, they’ll comment that they’ve never heard it before, that he should talk more. That he’s weird for only ever talking through Teshima.
He tries to focus his attention on the math test, but the numbers sway back and forth and make his eyes hurt. He stares at the back of Teshima’s head. What if it isn’t because Teshima is distracted or because Aoyagi’s signals are weak? What if he’s getting the message but just doesn’t care? Or what if his thoughts just don’t reach him, what if they won’t reach him ever again? What if he’s alone with his wordlessness forever?
This gets Teshima’s attention, but before Aoyagi can explain his situation, his body does it for him. He spits out the coughing fit that’s been brewing in his throat for the past five minutes, barely managing to cover his mouth in time. The instant the coughs release him, he sneezes. With his full voice behind it.
Now the entire class is staring at him, including the teacher. Aoyagi’s red face burns even redder. He shuts his eyes, trying to ignore the collective eyes of his classmates.
“Hey.”
It’s Teshima’s voice cutting through the jackhammer sound of Aoyagi’s heartbeat. When he opens his eyes Teshima is twisted around in his seat, staring at him with deep concern. “You okay?” he asks. “You look…”
Aoyagi shakes his head, but says nothing else. He doesn’t have to. One more second of looking at Aoyagi’s face prompts Teshima to raise his hand. When called on he says, “Sensei, Aoyagi needs to go to the nurse. Can we be excused?”
Relief drenches Aoyagi like a rainstorm. He doesn’t hear the teacher’s response, but it’s made clear enough when Teshima stands up. He holds out his hand and Aoyagi takes it, then reconfigures himself so that he’s gripping Teshima’s arm. The room blurs and sways, but it rights itself quickly enough.
They walk out into the hallway. Just before the reach the stairwell, Aoyagi has to stop to accommodate another coughing fit. Teshima wraps his arms around him, rubs circles down his back. “You okay, honey?” he says.
He’s fine. This isn’t anything worse than a bad cold—possibly the flu, but even that is survivable.
What matters is that he’s out of that room with all those people watching him. What matters is that Teshima figured out what he needed without his having to speak.
So Aoyagi nods, presses his sweaty face into Teshima’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I kicked you,” he mumbles.
“It’s okay,” says Teshima, fingers trailing through Aoyagi’s hair. “I wish you’d have kicked me sooner, if that’s what it takes to get my attention.”
Aoyagi shrugs. What he means is he should have been able to say what he needed with words instead of kicking. That a second-year high school student, even one with selective mutism, ought to be able to select to unmute himself in that situation.
“Honey, I don’t expect you to talk unless you can and you want to,” says Teshima. “I definitely don’t expect you to do it when you’re sick. As long as you’re not seriously hurting me, I want you to do whatever you need to to communicate with me. Kick me or whatever you have to do.” He kisses Aoyagi’s forehead, winces at the slight heat.
“Especially if you need something,” Teshima says. “But even if you don’t. If you want to kick me to tell me that sharks are cool you can do that too.”
Aoyagi doesn’t reply. Instead, he wraps his own arms around Teshima’s shoulders, thrilled that he doesn’t have to.
“Come on,” says Teshima. “Let’s get you to the nurse’s office.”
And so, the two of them descend the stairs, quietly.