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It was right after school.
And Nakamura had been tasked by one of the professors to give some papers to his math and homeroom teacher, Otogiri Sou, who was grading exams at the teachers' lounge.
Nakamura didn’t want to do it, so he had begged and begged to be let out of it, to have some other kid do it instead. He had miserably failed, like with almost everything else he did, so now he was walking to the teacher’s lounge, with a stack of papers in hand, and a not very pleasant expression on his face. Not that his expression was ever really very pleasant, he looked mad and scary even when he didn’t want to, but this time it was particularly bitter.
He didn’t hate Otogiri-sensei, he really didn’t, he actually respected him a whole lot. But he didn’t necessarily like him either. It was more of a secret third thing, if that makes any sense. Nakamura thought Otogiri-sensei was cool, but he was also very awarely jealous of his coolness. He thought his teacher was a good teacher, but he also thought he was too good of a teacher. Otogiri-sensei was ridiculously perfect, impossibly even. It made Nakamura think he was hiding something. Hiding something very bad.
He snapped himself out of that line of thought. He knew he was jealous of Otogiri-sensei, and that all of this was just his imagination going wild. He knew that Otogiri-sensei didn’t have any terrible secret to hide, and he knew this gut feeling he had was just him being petty. He sighed, stared around at his surroundings, and located the door of the teachers' lounge. It was slightly opened. Nakamura walked up to it, and peeked inside to check if Otogiri-sensei was there.
He was. His hands were on his face, and he seemed distressed. He seemed to be shaking and he was making some weird noises. Nakamura tried paying more attention to the sounds, to see if he had gotten there at a bad time. It sounded like…
Like sobbing?
Otogiri-sensei was crying?
Nakamura peeked a bit more. Yes, that seemed to be it. His professor was undeniably crying, quietly weeping in the quiet room all alone instead of grading exams. It was an interesting sight, to see someone usually so calm and collected, someone so reliable, in such a fragile state like this. Such a fragile, vulnerable state… Breaking down in the middle of work, letting his tears wet up his hands, while thinking he was all alone. But he wasn’t, Nakamura was watching him, and he was infactuated by the sight. It was probably one of the most beautiful things he had ever witnessed in his short fifteen years of life.
The boy contemplated just staying there where he was for a second, before deciding to do the task he was assigned to do. So he fully opened the door, and stepped inside. He was staring at his teacher, who, after hearing the noise he made, started staring back. The man’s eyes were swollen, his face painted an expression of confusion and maybe panic, and his breath was heavy. He was hyperventilating.
Nakamura walked closer, slowly, and always maintaining his gaze on the man’s eyes, until he was right beside him. He put the papers he had been tasked to deliver on the desk, right beside the exams, and just stared. His teacher was trying to stabilize himself, wiping his tears on his sleeve and desperately trying to relax his breath. The boy watched him for a moment, with amusement. And then, when he saw his professor had calmed down enough, he asked a question.
“Why are you crying?” It was spoken almost like a whisper, but it still resonated within the whole room. Otogiri-sensei’s eyes seemed to widen, and then he looked away. His head was now facing downwards, and the smile he usually wore on his face was there. He had returned to normal.
“I can’t tell you. So, please forget you ever saw that.” He closed his eyes, and then moved his head to face Nakamura, who just stared back at him. The urge to know more filled the poor boy, the urge to push and push until he got the whole truth out. But this was his teacher, so he couldn’t just disrespect him. He couldn’t say anything too informal, or too disrespectful, or he would be in trouble…
“Why?” There. He said it. He was now fidgeting, playing with his own hands, nervous to talk this way to one of his professors. To Otogiri-sensei out of all of them. To the one that was the most well liked and respected of them all, at least in his grade.
But again, why was this amazing and loved professor crying alone and isolated then?
Otogiri-sensei sighed, and looked away again. The smile he had put on his face was still there, but it seemed to be slowly and quietly fading away.
“You’ll lose even more respect from me than you just did.” He paused for a moment, his small smile seemed to have a tint of melancholy to it now. “Especially you…” Otogiri-sensei whispered, a slight nervousness could be heard in his voice. Or maybe it was worry, but worry for what?
“Why me?” Nakamura asked, slightly leaning over, so his face was now closer to his teacher’s. The man looked back at him, and his eyes seemed to glow for a moment. Maybe it was just because of the tears that it seemed like they were glowing, or maybe his eyes had actually started shining from seeing his student so close to him. Nakamura preferred the second option.
“Why do you want to know so bad?” Otogiri-sensei responded, throwing a different question back at the boy, to try and dogde the last one thrown at him. His eyes were still meeting the child’s, who was leaning over more and more, trying to get a better look at the man’s expression. The professor didn’t back off. He didn’t push the other one back. He just kept staring, and getting stared at. The teen noticed his eyes were still a bit swollen from the crying earlier. It actually suited him quite well, or so Nakamura thought. It suited him better than his usual smile anyway.
He looked cuter this way.
“Because…” He paused, to try and pick out his words. He felt his cheeks heat up, but it wasn’t even that hot in there. Was he gonna get a fever soon? “Because I’m curious. I’ve never seen you this way before.” Because I’ve never seen you look so passive. So weak. I’ve never seen you so pathetic, Otogiri-sensei. And I found it cute. So cute, I just wanted to know more. To know everything.
Because you’re cute, Otogiri-sensei.
Otogiri-sensei laughed. It didn’t sound like the way he would normally laugh. It didn’t sound genuine. It sounded… Almost painful? Was he forcing himself to laugh, even though it caused him pain?
“Nakamura-kun…” Hearing the sound of his name being spoken so lowly and breathy made the boy shiver. He suddenly became hyper aware of the closeness his face maintained on the man’s, and started sweating in nervousness. But he didn’t back away. “I know that’s not it. I know you dislike me. So I can’t tell you.” Those words fell like a stab right into the heart. He didn’t know why.
“I don’t dislike you!” Nakamura blurted out, suddenly grabbing one of Otogiri-sensei’s shoulders with his right hand, pulling him even closer. Their faces were merely a few inches apart. “I think you’re cool! I think you’re super cool! I just...” He paused for a moment. What was he supposed to say? He had no idea. So he just stared at the man’s eyes, nervous, worried, and very very close. The other one stared back. Intently.
“Do you really want to know?” The man asked, quietly. He sounded like he was about to burst into tears again, his voice had a certain pain to it that just made it sound like it, even if his eyes were just as dry as a dessert now that his tears had dried out. His expression was worried, anxious, he looked like he had so many things to say, but he said none of them. He just looked at Nakamura with his eyes so widened, like hoping for him to understand, even without words. And the sight was just so beautiful.
Nakamura nodded. Slowly, doubtfully. He wanted to know. He had insisted on knowing. But he wasn’t sure of what he was hoping to learn. He wasn't sure if it would be okay. But he still wanted to do it.
He felt a strong hand grab his right arm, the one he had placed on Otogiri-sensei’s shoulder earlier. And then, he felt a pull. He felt the closing of the distance between them, and he felt the shakiness of the professor’s hold and he locked their lips together. He felt the panic building up in his body. He felt his heart beat so fast it hurt and every little part of himself heathen up against his own will. This was his first kiss. The first kiss he so desperately wanted to share with Hirose, this was it. It was gone now, stolen by his maths teacher on a quiet afternoon at the teachers' lounge. He didn’t want this. He really didn’t.
But he didn’t pull away.
He reciprocated it instead.
When Otogiri-sensei let go of his hold of Nakamura’s arm, the boy hugged him, leaning onto him and their sudden connection like he was begging for more. Like he wanted more and more of it. Because he did. He most likely did. He had enjoyed getting kissed by his professor just now, he had enjoyed getting his first kiss stolen by a grown man instead of the boy he liked so so much. He had loved it.
But how was this an answer to his questions?
What did Otogiri-sensei mean by that kiss?
He looked at the man’s eyes, his arms still wrapped around him. At some point, the teacher had moved his hands down to the boy’s waist, and was now grabbing him there, intently. Maybe even roughly. It felt as if he never wanted to let go. When Nakamura took a better look at his expression, he saw just how terrified he was. He looked like he had just committed murder. And he looked like he would never forgive himself for it. That face didn't suit him at all.
Otogiri-sensei’s grip on the boy's waist loosened, and he moved his arms around to hug him instead. The teen was somehow surprised by the sudden change of position, which started to hurt his back, but he still let the older man hug him as tight as he wanted to. He felt like he had to. He felt as if it was his duty to comfort his worried and sad teacher. He felt as if it was his duty to calm him down.
Otogiri-sensei buried his face on Nakamura's shoulder.
And started to cry.
It was a quiet cry, discreet and silent, but his suffering was still very easily understood by the boy. So he just hugged him back. He let his professor cry on his shoulder and wet up his uniform. He let him just sob and sob as much as he wanted to, because he knew that this was something the man needed. He knew that this was something only he could provide. So he just let it happen. He just let it all happen.
“I’m sorry.” He heard. A whisper, softly spoken onto his shoulder. And then, he heard it repeat. He heard how Otogiri-sensei repeated those words again and again, so quietly and yet so loudly, like he was begging. And well, he probably was. He was begging for his fifteen year old student to forgive him. To forgive him for kissing him like that without a warning. And, probably, for something more.
“For what?” Nakamura asked. He didn’t even notice that word had left his lips until after he noticed how his professor had suddenly stopped apologizing. He was still sobbing, yes, but now it seemed like he was thinking of what to respond. The boy let go of his left arm’s light hold of the man, and started gently stroking his hair. The reason? He didn’t know. He just suddenly wanted to do it.
“For…” The teacher’s voice was shaky, breathy. It was scared. “For everything,” He finished, his face still buried deep onto Nakamura’s shoulder, and his body shaking and shaking. It was so painful to see. Just so so painful.
“Otogiri-sensei…” Nakamura muttered, still stroking the man’s hair with a careful, soft and sweet touch. “Do you…” He paused for a moment, doubting whether or not he should say what he was about to say. At the end, he decided to do it. “Do you like me?” He didn’t let go of his embrace on his professor, since he was the one to break it off. They looked at each other for a few seconds, that felt just as eternal as the hours you would spend on a waiting room, waiting for an appintment that just seems to be even more delayed every time you ask. Or on a road trip, hoping to finally arrive at your destination after hours and hours of sitting in a car. Otogiri-sensei’s eyes were still wet, but he wasn’t crying anymore. Now, he was just tense. Frozen, and staring at his student’s eyes like he had just been found out for a crime.
He forced a smile, or at least tried to.
It quickly broke off, he looked away instead.
“You could call it that,” he said. In his voice, a tint of regret could be heard. Or maybe it was shame. “I don’t think it deserves to be called that. But if you want to, you can call it that way, I suppose.” His expression was just so ashamed it was saddening. He was clearly lamenting doing and saying every single thing he had done and said that afternoon. Or maybe, not just that afternoon. Nakamura had the impression that regret was so much deeper than just that solitary day. It probably went way back. But how back? He just couldn’t guess.
“I think I want to,” He quietly responded, a shy, small smile forming on his face against his own will. Otogiri-sensei’s eyes seemed to widen. Maybe in surprise, maybe in something else. “I think… It would make me happy if it was that way.” Now, Otogiri-sensei seemed worried, or offended. He abruptly stood up, making Nakamura suddenly hyperaware of their height difference. How and why was this man so goddamn tall?!
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he said. His voice sounded so panicked, so scared. This was Nakamura’s first time seeing him like this, and it was like poison to him. So intoxicating, so addictive… He just wanted more. He wanted as much as he could get. He wanted his professor to like him. He wanted him to like him, and even if he didn’t know why, he still wanted it just so goddamn bad.
Nakamura just stared at Otogiri-sensei’s eyes for a short moment, and saw the fear. He saw the fear that was usually so deeply hidden so deeply glow on them like it was supposed to. And the boy just couldn’t help but smile. But, how couldn’t he? How couldn't he smile at the sight? Seeing all the imperfections his professor was cursed with, seeing them shine just oh so bright in that isolated teachers' lounge that quiet afternoon… It was just delightful, and he just couldn’t help but smile so wide it hurt. He couldn’t help but smile at the man’s face of clear confusion, at his dried out tears and his swollen eyes. He looked amazing. So pretty.
“Otogiri-sensei…” Nakamura whispered, still maintaining eye contact with his professor. “Why does it matter whether or not I know what I'm saying?” A reaction of clear surprise from the other followed the words. Otogiri-sensei was perplexed, you could see it in his face.
“You know why, Nakamura-kun,” he responded, maintaining his gaze on the teen’s own. It seemed like he was trying his best not to look away. Not to look weak.
Nakamura just stared at his eyes for a second. He was nervous too, but he did his best to not let it show in his face. He wanted to be the one comforting this time, after all.
He smiled again.
And he whispered, quiet enough for it to sound like something he meant for himself, but loud enough for Otogiri-sensei to hear.
“I still want you to like me, though. It still makes me happy.”
Otogiri-sensei just looked at him for a moment before suddenly going and hugging him, in a quick motion. And starting to cry again.
Nakamura just comforted him, rubbing his back in a circular, repeated motion.
Everything was going to be okay.