Chapter Text
Teenagers thought they were many things. Otogiri knew this well, seeing as he used to be one of those very teenagers. He could go on and on about the list of things teens (and he, at one point) thought they were. Cool. Clever. Smart. Romantic.
Subtle.
Yes, teenagers often thought they were many things, but most of the time, they were not. In the case of Okuto Nakamura, Otogiri wasn’t sure if the boy necessarily thought he was any of these things, but a part of him wished he didn’t. Sure, Nakamura’s grades were some of the better ones in the class. Otogiri also didn’t know much about the shy teen, as he quickly learned he was the quiet type, so there weren’t many words he could actually use to describe him.
But on the already short list of words, subtle was not among them.
Otogiri recalled the first day of class; Nakamura had been one of the last to stroll into the classroom, face slightly pink. Given his desire to be a teacher who sees his students, Otogiri started running through the possibilities as to why.
Was he sick the first day of class? Otogiri fixed a stack of paper on his desk, trying to hide his staring. Or maybe he’s just warm… it’s still a bit hot out.
A choked back squeak snapped Otogiri out of his thoughts. With a feeling he already knew the sound’s source, he took another look at Nakamura. The poor boy seemed completely frozen in place, with a flustered stare pointed directly at…
Otogiri followed his student’s line of vision, leading him to a boy with slightly wavy, light brown hair, already seated and rummaging through his bag. Aiki Hirose, Otogiri would soon learn. Looking back at Nakamura, it was as if he hadn’t released a single breath since seeing Hirose. Perhaps he hasn’t, a part of Otogiri’s mind wondered. Suddenly, Nakamura tightened his grip on his bag, put his head down, and marched over to claim a desk near the center of the classroom. A desk that, Otogiri noticed, gave him a clear line of sight to Hirose.
Interesting.
— — —
Smack!
Otogiri lightly tapped the top of Nakamura’s head with a rolled up work packet his students were working on.
“Do your work Nakamura, I can see you’re not done.”
“Y-yes sir, sorry!”
Otorigi tuned out the light giggles of his other students as he resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nakamura wasn’t a bad student. However, watching puppy love grow in an awkward teen lost a lot of its charm when you were the one who had to keep said teen in check. Each week, Otogiri loses count of how many times he has to remind Nakamura to pay attention, catching him staring longingly at Hirose. He’s seen his attempts at trying to speak to the shorter boy, and they were… pitiful, to say the least. Even when grading papers, he noticed at times there were more hearts doodled in the paper’s margins than actual answers. If the answers written weren’t all correct, Otogiri would’ve pulled him aside after class long ago. To his credit, most of the worksheets were completed. They still had hearts scattered across them, but they were completed nonetheless.
With a small sigh, Otogiri sat in his chair, opening a drawer to grab tonight’s homework assignment when he saw it.
Loveable Lunches.
He suppressed a chuckle. The moment it was given to him as a lost item, he already had a hunch who it belonged to. It was either one of the girls he often overheard talking about BL before classes, or Nakamura. And given how shameless the girls were about openly shipping their classmates and gushing about ukes and semes, if he recalled the terms correctly, he was willing to bet it was Nakamura’s. There was no name written on the inside covers, so he could only wait for someone to come collect it. Meaning, if it really was Nakamura’s, it would sit in his desk drawer for all eternity.
Glancing at the clock, Otogiri grabbed the stack of paper and started making his way around the classroom.
“Pencils down. I’m handing out tonight's homework-” a chorus of poorly concealed sighs and groans filled the classroom. “It’s only a single, one sided sheet, so I’m sure you’ll all survive. Be sure to hand me your work when I get to your desk.” Collecting all the worksheets, Otogiri simply couldn’t help but notice how Nakamura handed his over face down, long bangs covering his eyes as he looked at his desk. I’ll definitely be looking at his first.
The bell wrung loudly, and his students immediately started packing up their things, talking to whoever was sitting next to them. Flipping through the worksheets, Otogiri found the one face down, and didn’t hesitate to flip it over. As suspected, little hearts scribbled in the blank white spaces stared back at him. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.
Looking over at his closed desk drawer, he pulled the handle, the manga inside sliding a bit towards him because of the movement. A brief contemplation caused him to grab the manga, hide it in between a stack of papers, and bring it with him to the faculty room.
— — —
If this was what Nakamura thought it was like to woo someone, it was no wonder he was as hopeless as he was.
Otogiri flipped the pages of the lost manga, cringing slightly at the dialogue. It had its charm, but there was no way it could be used as a guide to win someone over.
… he wasn’t using it as a guide, was he?
It certainly was possible. Plenty of teenagers had warped ideas of how love worked, whether from watching romcoms or reading shojo manga. And given how shy Nakamura was, it made perfect sense to Otogiri that he’d turn to a manga of all things for help.
Even if it seemed to be hurting his chances more than helping.
Maybe this is all he has…?
The thought made his chest ache. He remembers being a teenager. He remembers being a gay teenager. All too well, in fact. The way his heart sang when he saw a pretty boy. The yearning for something he was sure he’d never have.
The loneliness.
Otogiri couldn’t recall a single person like him growing up. He never met other gay people until he reached adulthood, and they all seemed to have the same experience; no one to talk to. No one to look up to. Not for this. Sure, things were a bit different now; people were generally more accepting of queer people. But that doesn’t mean things are perfect. And it doesn’t mean the anxieties just go away. Especially if you’re as shy as Nakamura seemed to be.
“Is anyone still around?” Looking up from the manga, Otogiri saw none other than Nakamura himself. Somehow, Otogiri knew he wasn’t here for the manga.
“Um, excuse me? I need a form for my new bike.”
Yeah, that checks out.
“Oh, Nakamura. You’re still here?” Still processing Nakamura's request, Otogiri saw what his eyes were drawn to: the copy of Loveable Lunches in his hands. Nakamura immediately tensed, letting out one of his undignified squeaks he’s become known for.
I’m certain this is his.
“Is… is that your manga?”
“Mine? No. A student left it in class…” Otogiri watched Nakamura’s grip on his bag tighten as he tried to prevent another squeak from escaping.
Yeah, it’s definitely his.
The series may be out there, but it wasn’t bad. More than anything, he didn’t want Nakamura to feel ashamed about his interests or his sexuality (whatever it may be). Maybe some comfort would go a long way? “...but I gotta say it’s pretty good.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Otogiri remembered how he’s likely using the book as inspiration to talk to his obvious crush. Entertaining story or not, Otogiri had to be honest: before Nakamura said something so cringe-inducing it keeps them both up at night for years to come. He’d start off gentle… “The concept’s kinda out there for a shojo, though”
“Well, uh…” Nakamura’s voice sounded strained. “I hope they find it”
So he wasn’t going to claim it after all. Unfortunately, Otogiri understood why. Putting the series itself aside, a closeted gay (maybe bi?) teenage boy openly admitting to reading a BL manga simply felt too impossible. He should let him know he understands. But how could he do it without being too obvious? “I have a feeling our resident romantic is too embarrassed to claim it as their own.”
… Okay, maybe not ideal, but coming up with this stuff on the spot is hard! Otogiri fanned through the pages, catching glimpses of some of the dialogue. ‘I’ll nuke your heart in the microwave’? Seriously?
“Sure, it’s compelling enough, but…” Otogiri spoke without thinking, too distracted by the manga. “... a fan of this is no love doctor!”
Wait, is someone making tea? Looking back up from the book, Otogiri learned that no one, in fact, was making tea. The high pitched whistle-like sound came from Nakamura, whose face was so red Otogiri swore he could see steam coming from his ears. Maybe he was a teapot after all.
I pushed too far. But I guess at least he knows this isn’t a realistic romance? Otogiri never claimed to be a good mentor. Giving up for now, he decided it was best to drop the subject “So… you need a form?”
“Yeah… for my new bike, please…” Nakamura clearly hadn’t recovered. Otogiri wasn’t sure he would.
With Nakamura out of the room, Otogiri placed the book on the desk in front of him before standing, stretching his arms above him. “I need a smoke…” he muttered to himself as he walked over to the window, intending to do just that. So long as a certain coach didn’t catch him in the act. Reaching into his shirt pocket, he put a cigarette to his lips and lit his lighter.
Maybe I’ll get better at this eventually.
Otogiri hadn’t been a teacher for very long at this point, and his only real goal was to be a teacher who notices. And Sou Otogiri certainly was noticing.