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The silence around the halls was quickly replaced with loud chattering and laughter as students started exiting their classrooms, some going to the cafeteria to eat while others went off to hang out with their friends. Sheet sighs, taking his time to fix his stuff on his desk, watching the rest of his classmates head straight outside of the classroom. As he gathers his things to place back inside his bag, he finds a box of pocky given to him by a student earlier today.
He doesn’t get it, honestly. He assumed that the fellow schoolmate was just being generous to him, but then he noticed that others were giving the same boxes to each other as well. Did it have some sort of meaning? Maybe it was a blood sugar thing? Exam season was coming up, after all, and chocolate was supposed to help with brain function. Or maybe it was another one of those weird school superstitions. Like how eating kit-kats before a big match brought good luck. Was there a massive pop quiz he forgot to study for? A sudden wave of anxiety hits him as he stares at the red box. If this was a good luck charm for an unannounced exam, he was definitely doomed.
Softly shaking his head, he ignores the thought and places the pocky down, going back to clearing his desk first. He doesn’t have time for stupid high school trends. He’s busy, way too busy. Sheet could honestly not think of a single vacancy in his schedule right now. In a way, he’s a little grateful for the snack, even if he doesn’t quite get the purpose of it.
He grabs his notebook and pauses, realizing that it’s his planner with his schedule for Euro’s tutoring. He sighs and makes a mental note to drag Euro to the library immediately after school. If he was correct and that this is a silly trend going around, then the boy is definitely going to use it as an excuse of sorts. Like “Oh, but declining treats from others is rude. I should eat this before we study since food isn’t allowed inside the library.” or whatever stupid excuse he could think of.
He turns, going to grab the pocky box, when he notices a hand on his desk.
“What ya got there?” Sheet flinches, snapping his head up to see Euro sitting on a chair next to him. His elbow is placed on the Sheet’s desk as he rests his chin on his palm. He’s close, dangerously close—so much so that their knees are touching, with Euro leaning in only a few inches away from him.
“I thought you left?” Sheet says, breathless from the scare.
Euro shrugs. “Was, but you were taking your time here and I got curious.”
“I’m just fixing my things. You can go now.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Euro frowns. Suddenly, his eyes are fixed on the small red box in Sheet’s hand. “Is that pocky?”
Sheet looks down at his hands and—oh yeah, he forgot about that. “Yeah, a girl gave it to me earlier.”
Euro’s eyes narrow. “What girl? Which one?”
“A student? Does it matter?” The president raises a brow.
“Nope, no reason. Just curious.” A pregnant pause. “Was it Mint?” He asks.
“Does it matter?” He repeats. “And no, it’s not Mint. If you were that curious.”
“I’m not.” Euro defends, and Sheet gives him a look before dropping the topic all together. He zips up his bag and shuts it close, making sure it looks sleek and clean. Suddenly, he becomes hyper aware of the box in his hand. Earlier, he didn’t really care for it, but he can’t keep his eyes off it for some reason. He doesn’t like admitting it, but Sheet doesn’t like being left behind on stuff. What was the word Euro called it? FOMO? Fear of missing out? Yeah, that.
He knows that he isolated himself from a lot of stuff since high school, seeing as he was always busy and all with work, student council duties, and overall being an academic achiever. Since admitting that, Euro has helped him experience a lot of the stuff he’s missed out on. His friends have complained to him a bit, saying that he’s ditching them to go on dates with Euro—they are not going on dates—but they also encouraged him to try out a lot of new stuff as well. Since then, Sheet has taken it upon himself to explore new things.
Although, he does still need Euro to explain some certain things to him.
“Why is everyone giving each other pocky today?” Sheet asks.
“Oh, it’s pocky day.” Euro simply answers. That’s one of the many little traits that Sheet likes about him, how Euro doesn’t judge him on his lack of knowledge when it comes to modern media and experiences. To be frank, if this were Euro a few months ago, the boy probably would’ve given him shit for it. But now, he just simply replies as he carefully explains to Sheet the answers to his questions.
“Is it a holiday?”
“Sort of, yeah. It started in Japan as a bit since 11 looks like two pocky sticks together. Hence, November 11th.” He explains, a small smile growing on his face which signifies that he’s enjoying himself. Sheet likes that look, it only appears during sessions of random knowledge that Euro knows for some reason. It’s a bit endearing and quite—cute.
What?
“What do you do during it? Do you just… give pocky to each other?” Sheet tries to ignore his earlier thought, focusing on the current topic.
Euro nods. “I dunno, you eat it together, I guess? It’s to spread love and happiness to people. Others play games with it, sometimes.”
“What games?” The president cocks his head, his lips making a soft, tiny pout as his brows furrow in confusion.
Euro freezes, his mind trying to quickly come up with something—anything to answer. Sheet can notice the cogs in his mind turning through his eyes. Do people play a lot of games? Suddenly, the boy blinks and takes a quick glance at Sheet’s mouth before looking back to stare directly into the president’s eyes. Slowly, a mischievous smirk appears on Euro’s face.
“I’ll show you.”
He grabs the pocky box from Sheet’s grasp and opens it, ripping the plastic packaging inside and taking a single piece. Carefully, he places the chocolate stick against the center of his lips and holds it with his teeth. He leans in towards Sheet and tilts his head.
“Bite.” He commands, his voice slightly muffled because of the treat in his mouth.
“What?” Sheet says, confused. He looks at Euro then down at the boy’s lips. “But it’s in your mouth?”
“Just bite.” Euro repeats, his patience wearing thin.
Sheet rolls his eyes and does what he’s told, leaning in and placing the other end of the stick against his lips. “Okay? Now what?”
“We bite to the center until one of us breaks the stick. The first one to back out loses.” He explains, giving his eyebrows a playful twitch.
Sheet thinks long and deep for a moment, trying to find the right words for his next question. “But what if…” He hesitates, fortunately for him, Euro seems to already get what he means. The boy grins and gives a quick shrug. The president’s eyes widened. “No way.” He says, already opting to pull away.
“Come on, president. It’s just a game.” Euro says. “Why? You scared you’ll lose?”
“It’s not that, it’s just—” Sheet tries to find a logical argument, but the sheer proximity is scrambling his thoughts. His eyes dart between Euro’s challenging gaze and the tiny fraction of chocolate separating them. Every time Euro speaks, the Pocky stick bobbles between his teeth, a constant reminder of how ridiculously close they are.
“Can’t even bring yourself to challenge me, huh?”
“I’m not scared.”
“Then, how about a deal?” Euro suggests, piquing the other’s interest. “If I win, I get five tutor passes where I can skip our sessions.”
Sheet licks his lips, “You can’t do that.” His gaze hardens at the sheer audacity of the wager. Five sessions? That’s practically a whole two weeks of Euro slacking off, flushing all their hard academic progress down the drain. The thought of letting Euro win—and worse, letting him think he intimidated the student council president—grates on his nerves.
Euro doesn't back down. Instead, he leans in a fraction of an inch closer, the chocolate stick almost brushing against Sheet's lips again.
“It’s your call, nerd.”
He takes a deep breath. Sheet knows—he knows how extremely petty it would be if he agreed to this. He’s usually not one to entertain Euro’s shenanigans. However, Sheet is also completely competitive. And with Euro challenging him right now, a battle against his pride? He’s not backing down without a fight.
He leans back, taking a soft bite at the other end of the stick with a competitive glint in his eyes. “Bring it.”
Euro smirks, amused by the other boy’s competitive spirit.
And now, the game begins.
Snap.
Sheet takes the first bite, the sharp sound echoing in the empty classroom. He keeps his gaze firmly locked onto Euro’s, refusing to let even a flicker of hesitation show. Euro doesn't even blink. He just smirks around the biscuit and takes his own bite.
Snap.
The distance between them shrinks instantly. Sheet can feel his heart skipping a beat. Focus, he tells himself despite the internal panic happening in his mind right now. A part of him regrets this so bad, because he knows that he could’ve just declined like a normal person. He knows that Euro was probably fucking with him and that if he truly didn’t wanna do it, then Euro wouldn’t push it. Curse Euro and his weirdly amazing observation skills—or perhaps he just knows Sheet really well—because he definitely did that taunt just for Sheet to agree.
He wants to hit himself for falling for it.
Sheet can feel the steady, warm puff of Euro’s breath against his lips. It’s dizzying, his heart keeps pounding against his chest. It’s a sensation that hurts, but in a good way. Similar to how he gets nervous during an exam, but for some reason he likes this better compared to it. In a way, Sheet thinks he can get used to it.
Focus, he thinks again.
At this distance, Euro’s eyes aren't just challenging; they’re heavy, intense, and entirely too focused. The boy is looking up at him through his eyelashes, and they’re extremely pretty too. The stick is barely there now, with only a fingernail of a gap between them. Sheet’s heart hammers against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that he’s terrified Euro can hear. He wants to win—he needs to protect those five tutoring sessions—but one more move means their noses will brush.
Steeling his nerves, Sheet leans in a fraction of a millimeter, preparing to snap the final piece.
But Euro doesn't take a bite.
Instead, Euro closes the remaining distance without breaking the stick. He tilts his chin just enough to slip past the barrier, and Sheet feels the sudden, soft brush of Euro’s thumb gently sweeping across his jawline, while Euro's face hovers mere inches from his ear.
"You're really pretty when you're trying too hard, president," Euro murmurs, his voice a low, raspy hum right against Sheet's skin.
The sheer shock of the touch—and the words—sends a violent jolt straight down Sheet's spine. His composure completely shatters. He gasps, his jaw dropping in pure panic. He pushes Euro away, ears completely red with his heart shooting up to a hundred. So much so that he doesn’t even realize that—
SNAP!
The broken stick clatters uselessly onto the desk.
Euro immediately pulls back, a triumphant, completely shameless grin plastered across his face. He pops the remaining bit of the biscuit into his mouth, chewing lazily as he watches Sheet's face turn a spectacular shade of crimson.
"Oops," Euro says, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Looks like you broke it. That’s five passes for me.”
Sheet gapes at him, his mind still processing what just happened. Really, what the hell happened?
Euro snorts. “You lost, is what happened.” Oh, did he say that out loud?
He feels dizzy, is it normal to feel dizzy when you play games? He doesn’t feel this dizzy during PE. Or perhaps that’s a separate problem. He doesn’t even realize that his mouth is moving faster than his mind before he blurts out: “Let’s go again.”
“What?” WHAT. AGAIN? WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT.
“Yeah, rematch.” Sheet challenges, acting like he isn’t internally panicking.
Apparently, Euro can’t believe it either with the way the other boy is staring at him right now. “Yeah, sure. We’ll go again.” He mutters, taking another stick from inside the box and this time, offering it to Sheet who bites the other end as Euro continues to hold it in his hand.
Sheet can’t tell if it’s the dizziness making him hallucinate, or did the tip of Euro’s ears really turn pink.
This time, Euro takes the first bite. He leans in, catching the other end of the biscuit with his teeth. His eyes are full of confidence, but the pink tint in his ears say otherwise.
And this time, the game moves twice as fast as Sheet takes a huge leap by taking a bigger bite. There’s no hesitation, no careful waiting. He takes his chance and rapidly shortens the gap between them. Sheet can hear Euro’s breath hitch at the distance between them, his eyes darting down at the stick while the other steadily keeps his eyes directly at him.
Before Sheet even realizes it, they are right back at the breaking point. The space between them vanishes. He can feel the heat radiating from Euro’s skin, see the slight widening of Euro's eyes as the realization hits that Sheet isn't backing down this time. There is barely a millimeter of biscuit left. One more tiny movement, and their lips will touch.
Sheet knows Euro is waiting for him to panic again. Euro is probably already preparing another smug remark to claim his victory, or perhaps another physical gesture to distract him.
Not this time.
Euro takes a tiny, careful bite. The two of them can practically feel the ghost of their lips against each other. Euro glances down, then his eyes shoot up and look directly at Sheet in the eye. “You might as well give up now,” he says with a tone of confidence, but his voice shakes slightly.
“If I lose, I'll double your passes.” Sheet grins.
Euro raises a brow. “I call bull. There’s no way—”
Driven by a sudden, reckless surge of sheer competitive spite—and a deeper, terrifying urge he doesn't dare analyze—Sheet doesn't wait for Euro to finish his sentence. He closes the final fraction of an inch himself.
Instead of taking a bite to snap the stick, Sheet tilts his head and presses his lips directly against Euro’s.
The competitive spite that drove Sheet across the line evaporates in a fraction of a second, replaced by the dizzying, terrifying realization that Euro’s mouth is against his. That he is, in fact kissing Euro. His lips are so soft, even with the pocky still in between them.
Euro freezes instantly under him, his eyes wide as Sheet holds his shoulder, pushing him down to his seat. His breath gets stuck in his throat, getting replaced by a sweet, chocolate treat that makes him dizzy. His lips are soft, but dry because of the chocolate. Euro couldn’t care less about it, leaning in deeper into the kiss as his hand holds on to Sheet’s neck.
He hears a quick snap of the stick between them and chocolate starts coming back to their senses. It makes Sheet want to lean in more, more than the proximity between him and Euro right now. Then, a huge realization hits him.
Euro broke the stick.
He can feel himself smiling against the kiss. And the most amusing part for him is that Euro doesn’t seem to notice, still too distracted as the boy tries to lean closer and closer, until their bodies are fully flushed together. But for some reason, Sheet doesn’t seem to mind at all.
The kiss is fully interrupted when they hear a phone buzzing. Sheet is the first to pull away as he grabs his phone from inside his pocket, completely endeared to how grumpy Euro looks right now. Like he wants to smash the phone for breaking off their kiss.
“Hello?” Sheet speaks, holding the phone against his ear. A voice starts echoing through the speaker, but not loud enough for anyone other than Sheet to hear. “Yeah, okay sure. I’ll be there.” He says with one final nod before ending the call. “I have to go.”
Euro blinks, staring at him as Sheet gets up from his seat, swinging his bag across his shoulder. “Wait—wait, you’re leaving?” The boy says in disbelief.
“Duty calls.” Sheet smirks, pointing at the student council sleeve on his shirt. “I’ll see you later.”
“What if I use one of my passes?” Euro asks, a playful, challenging look on his face.
Sheet pauses, taking a slow step closer to Euro as he corners the boy against his seat. “Will you?” He says, looking down on him. “After that?”
Euro licks his lips. “Maybe. You wouldn’t really know until then, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, I know.” Sheet hums, his eyes flashing with an amused glint. He takes a step back, walking towards the door with his eyes still glued to Euro. “You know where to find me.”
Euro watches the boy exit the classroom, probably going off to one of his student council meetings again. It doesn’t matter, because he knows that later, after school—he’ll have the boy all to himself. He always found it interesting how smart and perceptive the other is. A few months ago, his root of irritation for him would be because he’s a total nerd.
But now? He hates that the boy is able to see right through him.