Asphyxiation

Manipulating Intricate Needlework - 8

The emotion that had been conjured by that strange moment in art class, that steel-wire of tension between Kana and Y/n, did not vanish. It lingered, orbiting around Noboru's already absurd feelings toward his (h/c) classmate. For some time, Noboru could not identify it. It was not the attention-gripping, breathtaking, all encompassing desire to look upon Y/n's visage and never stop. It was not the itch to draw, capture, or keep. Desiring to soothe Y/n's distress was only a piece of it. It was only by chance Noboru was able to draw parallels.

After school had ended, Noboru walked between buildings, determined to find a good vantage point to watch the garden club that afternoon. He only happened to run across one of the few stray cats that roamed about the area. It was stubby-tailed, mangy, and striped a light tangerine color. It hissed at him, tongue arching and fangs bared. Noboru considered it for a moment, eyes narrowing as he studied its antisocial behavior. It seemed illogical for a stray cat to behave in such a manner, especially when it could gain food, affection, and perhaps even a home if it put on a sweeter facade.

However, a small shrub nearby shuddered, and a tiny furry head peeked out from the leaves. The stray was a mother with kittens; a protective mother. And here, paused in the covered walkway, Noboru thought oh, with a pivotal revelation: he was protective — of Y/n. That was what this strange feeling was. Why Noboru vividly desired Kana's removal; why that urge was confusingly accompanied by a warm urge to touch Y/n, in no selfish manner; only to comfort; only to take away the distress that useless bitch had caused.

Noboru strode past the cat, which yowled before running off, back towards the bush hiding its litter. His destination had changed.

It would not be difficult for him to orchestrate an entirely different series of events, after all. By now, he knew the gardening club's typical pattern. Knew where Y/n and Kana could be found. There was a dedicated week to hand-weeding the potted plants and trimming back the dead or unwanted shoots. And Noboru knew just the courtyard Y/n favored. For the (h/c) boy, it would only be chance that Noboru decided to stay behind that day in school; that instead of walking to the station or indulging in the local establishments, Noboru decided to practice his sketching — and what better subject was there to draw than the lovely flowers kept up by the gardening club?

After careful deliberation, Noboru chose to settle on a bench nearby. His sketchbook was laid perfectly on the frame of his leg, ankle pressing against the other knee. He required only a single glance at the milky pink peonies, before he could sketch a rough likeness of them. For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of his pencil scratching against paper and of the wind threading through the school buildings. Heart pounding a little harder in his chest, Noboru waited patiently, hoping he had not miscalculated. A nervous perspiration threatened to have his pencil slip.

Then: muffled voices and shoes scuffing over cement walkways. Noboru's heart thudded.

"— I know you like him, but did you really have to —" that was Y/n's voice, distinctive and tickling pleasantly over Noboru's straining ears.

"Yes," came Kana's sharp reply, snappish, cutting, and wholly unpleasant. "Do you have any idea how you made me —" it was precisely on that word that the pair of them turned the corner, coming right into predictable view of Noboru's perch, "— look? Telling me not to —"

Y/n was the first to notice Noboru, and Noboru watched from the corner of his eye as the (h/c) boy noticeably gawked before he snagged Kana's sleeve and tugged it, preventing her from embarrassing herself further no doubt.

Her expression pinched, "What —?" Then all annoyance fled from her face; a pinkish hue possessed her cheeks. "Oh," she breathed.

Noboru tried to hide his smirk as he acted oblivious to the pair's appearance, continuing to sketch mindlessly. For every time before this, Noboru had not been in the right place to cherish the feeling of Y/n reciprocating his attention. But there the (h/c) boy was now, feet halting uncertainly and (e/c) eyes burning, searing, into the side of Noboru's face. He could feel it. And it burned his ears, and it kept making his lips tug up, in a tiny hidden grin. It felt as though it was the first time Noboru was not looking at Y/n, but the (h/c) boy was certainly looking at him. Even if Noboru was simply feigning obliviousness.