Classroom of the elite | The path that leads to nothingness - OC

The fifth generation

I sank into the plush leather seat, the dense cushioning of the Audi R8 wrapping around me like a soft cocoon. The car felt like something from a world I'd never experienced, every detail carefully sculpted and exuding a luxury I wasn't accustomed to. Smooth black leather lined the interior, with red stitching that traced patterns along the seams, giving it an almost artful contrast. Polished metal accents framed the dashboard, sleek and unblemished, catching the faint light filtering through the rain-speckled windows. The center console held rows of buttons and dials, illuminated softly, their functions mysterious yet somehow inviting. The scent of new leather and faint cologne lingered in the air, unfamiliar and rich.

As I settled in, I caught myself glancing at my thigh, the same spot where Aiyuki's hand had brushed earlier, as if the memory itself had left a warm imprint. The warmth lingered, subtle but noticeable. Absurd, I thought to myself, trying to brush it off, but even so, I couldn't completely shake the sensation.

Aiyuki had gone into the private hospital with a casual promise, "I'll be back in ten minutes." Yet, it had been nearly half an hour, and he was nowhere in sight. I watched the rain outside, droplets racing down the windows, forming intricate patterns before vanishing in streams. Part of me grew impatient, but another part felt relief. It was serious, after all; some tests might take longer.

Finally, after nearly 45 minutes, I saw him emerging from the hospital doors, a black umbrella held just above his head, barely wide enough to shield his shoulders. Even from here, he looked a little tired but oddly content. He glanced up, spotted me, and smiled as he approached, closing the umbrella with a single flick and sliding into the driver's seat.

"'I'll be back in ten minutes,'" I mocked, trying to deepen my voice to imitate him but only managing to scratch my throat in the process.

He chuckled, shaking his head, "Sorry, sorry. They ran a CT scan and a few blood tests, had to get those over with." He rubbed his chest absently as he explained. "They'll message me the results later."

I rolled my eyes, trying to sound exasperated. "I suppose there's nothing we can do about it, but still..."

He snapped his fingers playfully in front of my face, "Come on, Suzune, cheer up. You survived almost an hour in luxury. Most people would kill for that experience," he teased, his eyes catching a hint of mischief.

"No matter how luxurious the car, I wouldn't call staring at its insides for 45 minutes the thrill of a lifetime," I shot back, allowing a slight smile to play on my lips. Maybe cheering him up wasn't so bad—perhaps it would keep him from focusing too much on whatever pain he was hiding.

He paused, his gaze shifting to the window before slowly trailing back to me. "You know," he began, his eyes tracing from my shoes up to my face, "it really just matters what insides you're looking at that decide whether you'll be bored or not."

My face grew hot as I processed his words. "W-what?" was all I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper.

The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and yet... not unpleasant. I could sense he was holding back laughter, though his expression remained impressively calm.

"I'm horrible at flirting, aren't I?" He let out a soft chuckle, finally breaking the silence, and turned back to the wheel.

"You call that flirting?" I scoffed, looking away and staring pointedly out the passenger-side window, hoping my flushed cheeks weren't too obvious.

As he turned the key, the engine roared to life, its deep rumble filling the cabin and sending a small shiver through me. We accelerated smoothly, the hum of the tires against wet pavement somehow soothing as we sped through the rain. The silence hung between us again, but this time it was calmer, more comfortable, as if the car itself had absorbed the tension.