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Kiriko twirls a pen idly in one hand as she watches students stream into the lecture hall on the first day of the semester. Most of them look understandably nervous as they choose their seats. She can’t imagine any of them are excited about Organic Chemistry and its notoriously difficult curriculum. They’re all only here because it’s a required class for the pre-med track.
It could have been a lot worse. After all, there were only two professors teaching the subject this semester: Moira O'Deorain and Niran Pruksamanee. The former was famously ruthless when it came to grading, impossibly strict with attendance, and hardly anyone ever passed her class. The latter was Professor O'Deorain’s polar opposite: lenient, generous with extra credit opportunities, and compassionate to a fault. During registration, everyone clamored for Professor Pruksamanee’s class, but only the lucky ones got to enroll. Kiriko, fortunately, was one of them.
“Is anyone sitting here?”
Kiriko looks up to find an attractive stranger addressing her. Tall, with a lean build, and the most striking pair of turquoise eyes. He’s dressed simply in a teal hoodie and black jeans, with a baseball cap covering two-toned gray and black hair. There’s piercing in one ear, but not the other, and somehow it suits him. She doesn’t recognize him from any of her previous classes, but the lower division courses are usually hundreds large, so that’s not entirely surprising.
Kiriko follows his gaze to the clutter that has spilled over from her side into the neighboring area, and hastily clears her things. He thanks her and settles into the chair without fanfare.
“I’m Kiriko, by the way,” she says.
“Mizuki.”
“Are you pre-med, too?”
“Yeah.”
A frown forms on Kiriko’s face. His brusque replies leave virtually no room for further conversation. She knows how to take a hint, but it’s not common to find someone so wholly uninterested in talking to her. It’s not like there’s much else to do while they wait for the professor to arrive.
She’s never been shy, so socializing and making friends have always come easily to her. And she’s no slouch in the looks department either. She’s had people quite literally trip over themselves to talk to her in the quad. Whatever magnetism that draws in others doesn’t seem to work on Mizuki.
But that’s fine. Kiriko likes a challenge.
“Hey, Mizuki,” Kiriko greets him brightly as she plops into her seat.
“Hey.” Mizuki looks almost surprised to be spoken to. He may give off a “do not talk to me” vibe, but Kiriko isn’t one to be deterred. Nobuto was the same way when they were young, and now they’re the best of friends. And it’s always possible Mizuki’s aloofness isn’t intentional. He could just be awkward and socially inept.
Which would actually make him a lot cuter.
“Nice hat,” she continues, hoping to soften him up with a compliment. “It looks good on you.”
Mizuki looks bewildered. “I…uh, thanks…”
Kiriko breaks into a smile. Oh, he’s very cute alright.
Mizuki is frustratingly reserved. Even after weeks of effort, Kiriko has hardly learned anything about her seat-mate. They exchange a few pleasantries before the professor’s arrival, and that’s about it. He stays so focused during the lecture that it’s mind-boggling.
While Mizuki’s notebook fills with formulas and diagrams, Kiriko can barely keep herself from doodling in hers. She lifts her pen off the paper to find a rather impressive—by her standards—drawing of a dancing donut on the page. She decides to draw a decorative border around the little critter and pauses to consider whether to add sunglasses.
Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Mizuki staring at her.
She looks over and mouths, “What?”
He pointedly looks over at the professor, who is explaining a complex structural formula, and then back at her notebook, which is woefully bereft of anything relevant to the class.
“It’s a donut,” she whispers.
“I can see that,” he whispers back.
He looks so baffled that Kiriko has to stifle a chuckle.
When class is over, Kiriko turns to Mizuki, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “Can I borrow your notes?”
Kiriko dutifully returns Mizuki’s notes during their next class.
“Thanks for letting me borrow them,” she says, sliding the notebook over. “You have nice handwriting, by the way.”
“Sure,” he replies, curt but not unkind. Their hands briefly touch over the notebook. Is he looking a little bashful, or is it just her wishful thinking?
Before she has the opportunity to ruminate further, Professor Pruksamanee announces an upcoming test covering the past few units of material. Groans of dread ripple through the room. It’s their first big test, worth a significant chunk of their final grade.
“I know you’re a talented bunch,” Niran encourages them. “Review the study guide, and you will be fine. Next session, we’ll do a high-level overview, so remember to bring your questions.”
Mizuki glances at her surreptitiously, but she catches it all the same.
Kiriko can’t help but smile to herself. Is he actually worried about her?
During their review session before the test, Kiriko finds herself sneaking a glance over at Mizuki. He’s still busy copying down everything on the board, the very picture of a devoted student.
Kiriko props her chin in her hand, her eyes tracing the attractive profile of Mizuki’s face—his long eyelashes, the cut of his jawline, the curve of his Adam’s apple. She’d consider sketching him, if her skills were anywhere near professional. As it is, she can only muster the occasional dancing donut or fox on a skateboard. She even finds herself studying the way he brushes his silvery bangs out of his eyes when he looks down.
Mizuki doesn’t notice Kiriko staring, until he does. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her writing hand go still against the notebook. He tries and fails to concentrate when he realizes she’s staring—at him. Maybe he has something on his face. He furtively probes the side of his mouth with his free hand, searching for sandwich crumbs, but he finds nothing.
Her lips quirk up at the gesture and he makes the mistake of looking directly at her while she smiles at him.
His cheeks warm, and the pencil trail on his notebook suddenly goes a little wobbly.
She’s the only thing in this class that doesn’t make sense.
“Shouldn’t you be paying attention?” he asks, trying not to sound critical.
“I am paying attention,” she replies, serene.
“To the professor,” Mizuki clarifies.
“Mhmm.”
Mizuki glances at her notebook. To be fair, it does contain more notes than last time, but it’s still covered in doodles. How is she planning to prepare for the test with her notes looking like that?
A short while later, the professor announces the end of the lecture and opens the floor for questions. Mizuki wastes no time in packing up his things to head to his next class, all the way across campus.
As he’s zipping up his backpack, Kiriko gently taps him on the shoulder. Mizuki should’ve anticipated this. She’s going to ask to borrow his notes again, after doing such a crap job taking them down herself. He has an abysmal record of saying no to her. But this time, he has to turn her down. She’s going to bomb the upcoming test if she doesn’t take studying seriously; he just knows it.
With as much mental fortitude as possible, he opens his mouth and—
“Can you help me study for the test, Mizuki?”
Mizuki’s words die in his throat. And whatever mental fortitude he’d summoned has fully evacuated the building.
She blinks those beautiful, golden-brown eyes at him and he almost loses his balance backing into the seat behind him.
Kiriko wants to study—with him? Every cell in his body is telling him this is a bad idea. The scholarship—he can’t jeopardize his scholarship. He can’t afford to be distracted.
C’mon, it’s just studying. What’s the harm? Studying isn’t off-limits. You were planning to study in the library anyway. It’s just studying. Right?
“Sure,” he blurts before the rational part of his brain catches up with him, “I’ll help.”
Deep down, Mizuki knows that this is just an excuse to see her outside of class.
Mizuki is used to studying at the library. He’s so recognizable that the staff members all know him on a first-name basis, so it ends up being quite simple for him to book one of the private study rooms for the day.
Mizuki plugs in his laptop into the nearby outlet and starts rewatching the recorded lectures while he waits for Kiriko to show. As the appointed time draws closer, he finds himself fidgeting nervously.
Stop it, you idiot. It’s just a study session.
Kiriko announces her arrival with a brisk knock on the door. She lets herself in before he even has time to acknowledge her presence. She looks around the spartan study room, as if she’s never seen one before, and sits down in the seat directly next to his—even though there’s a perfectly acceptable open seat across the table from him.
“Hey, Mizuki,” she says, her voice warm and bright as usual. She’s wearing a loose but stylish blazer, short pleated skirt, and sheer black tights. Perhaps it’s meant to give off a bookish impression, but instead she looks like she belongs on the cover of a magazine. He can barely take his eyes off her.
Dressed in his usual garb, he feels sloppy by comparison. He did fuss with his hair this morning before coming here, but he’d die before he admitted that to anyone.
“Hey,” he manages, thankful for the shield that is his laptop screen between them. He clears his throat and pulls out the professor’s study guide, placing it on the desk between them. “So, I’ve just been going through this chronologically, but if you’re having trouble with a particular unit, we can skip to it and focus on that first. What do you think?”
“Sounds great,” she chirps, without so much as a glance at the study guide.
“So…?”
“So?”
“…Which unit do you want to work on first?”
Kiriko shrugs. “We can start wherever.”
Mizuki’s never met anyone so blasé about studying in his entire life. He honestly doesn’t know how she’s made it this far.
Mizuki pulls out the practice problem worksheets he’d printed out earlier and slides them over to her. “Here, maybe you can get started with these. If you get stuck, just let me know.”
“Oh, okay.”
They fall into an amiable silence. The sound of pencil on paper fills the room.
Not long into said silence, Kiriko taps him on the shoulder.
Mizuki looks up from his notes. “Stuck on something?”
“Do you like donuts?”
“Uh…” Mizuki glances down at her worksheet, and finds she’s finished only the first few problems. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” By the way she’s looking at him, it’s very clearly not just curiosity.
“I’m not really into sweets,” he admits. Something akin to disappointment appears on her face, so Mizuki quickly scrambles to salvage his response, “But it’s not like I hate them or anything.”
Kiriko perks back up and, seemingly satisfied by his answer, returns to her worksheet. Mizuki breathes a sigh of relief.
A few minutes pass before another inane question goes whizzing his way.
“Do you prefer coffee or tea?”
“Tea.”
“I also like tea,” she replies meaningfully, but said meaning flies completely over his head.
Mizuki nods, perplexed but trying not to be too obvious about it.
Another few minutes pass before Kiriko questions him again, this time about his hobbies. The rest of the study session goes on much like this, and by the end of it Mizuki is fully stumped by her behavior. It’s no wonder she needed his help to study; she can’t seem to focus on the material for the life of her.
Can he even call this a study session? It feels more like an interrogation.
Or a date.
Mizuki holds his breath as he’s handed back his graded test. He turns it over to check the score immediately. It’s a whopping one hundred and five percent, thanks to nailing the extra credit questions.
The tight coil of anxiety in the pit of his stomach disappears. His academic scholarship is safe, for now. Mizuki heaves a sigh of relief, grateful his studying paid off.
As he returns to his seat with his test in hand, he searches for Kiriko in the line of students waiting to grab their tests. She appears to be next in line. A tiny knot of worry curls in his chest. He wouldn’t be surprised if she failed the exam.
He could offer to continue studying with her, but realistically, would that change anything? It’s not like he’s an experienced tutor. And he has his own grades to worry about.
Kiriko returns to her seat, expression unreadable.
Mizuki, fearing the worst, wonders if he should say something to her. But he doesn’t know the first thing about comforting someone. The entire lecture hall is abuzz with the sounds of people chatting about their test results. He hunches down in his chair, hoping not to look too psyched about his own test score.
Kiriko surprises him by leaning over in his direction. “Hey, Mizuki, I wanted to thank you for helping me study the other day. I think it made all the difference.”
“Uh…no problem,” he replies, more by reflex than anything.
Why on earth is she thanking him? He can’t imagine that single study session—if one could even call it that—helped her very much at all. She barely spent any of it studying. Unless…?
Mizuki can’t help but take a peek at her graded test paper.
One hundred percent. A perfect score.
He gapes at it, completely dumbfounded. “You…aced it?”
She chuckles. “Of course I did.”
“But…”
“But what?” she asks innocently.
It suddenly dawns on him. Kiriko never needed his help with this class. Then, that means—
Kiriko breaks into a mischievous smile. She can tell he’s finally putting the pieces together. He’s quite dense, she thinks, but so cute that she really doesn’t mind. She closes the distance between them, leaning so far forward that their lips nearly touch.
“You’ll still help me study, right, Mizuki?”
He has an abysmal record of saying no to her. And that record isn’t getting better anytime soon.