Lonely... Or Just Alone? || IwaOi

♡ Coincidentally ♡

Sweet disposition

Never too soon

Oh, reckless abandon

Like no one's watching you

- "Sweet Disposition" by The Temper Trap

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"My name is Iwaizumi Hajime, and my goal for this class is to master English. Or get better than I already am."

His professor nods enthusiastically, her large, circular eyeglasses almost falling off in the motion. "And where do you come from, Iwaizumi?" She croons, fixing her beaded scarf unnecessarily.

"From Japan, a place called Seijoh."

"So you speak Japanese as your mother tongue, so to speak?" Hajime was learning that this was her favorite phrase. She used it the way some teenagers might use "you know?" even if the person did clearly not know. 

"I'm half Mexican and half Japanese, so I grew up speaking both. So I suppose both would be my "mother tongue."' 

"How do you know English so well? Is it taught in schools?"

Why can't she just shut the hell up, "so to speak"?

"My father lived here for a while. In the United States."

This seemed to satisfy her, as she finally moved on to the next poor soul.

He had only signed up for this class because it had seemed alluring to an English learner. "Creative Writing" seems like a good class to take for that, right?

No.

The only thing "creative" about this class is how many different colors this crackpot professor can paint her toenails before exposing them to the world.

It seemed like the rest of the school had gotten the memo, though, because only eight had signed up for this crack-factory. Iwaizumi has begun to wish he had made that smart choice as well.

And it doesn't help that his roommate is a stoner. His dorm constantly smells of marijuana, and he can't go anywhere else. If he had friends, he'd stay at one of their places, but that isn't an option.

He has never really done the whole "friends" thing.

Not in primary school, or middle school, or highschool, and not now. 

It's just the way it is.

So he sits through his classes, and begins the slow walk of internal shame to "home", to that pot-scented, thin-walled dorm room where he'll most likely hear his next door neighbors fucking. Again.

But he doesn't mind all too much. It's better than Japan. Here, there's hamburger places everywhere.

********

The next day, though, there's a development. A new student in Creative Writing, one who sits in the back corner opposite Hajime. Eight becomes nine, not that it effects Hajime. At least, until he's requested by his professor to pass out the login information for their online essay formatting website, and the two finally acknowledge each other's presence as Iwaizumi offers him the paper. Two things about the boy almost immediately take up his focus.

The first is that it looks like he emptied at least four big packs of Skittles onto his workspace, and seems to be in the middle of color sorting them. The reds, yellows, and greens are all sorted neatly into little Skittle-flowers on the desktop. When the strange boy sees Iwaizumi looking, he gives the tabletop a cheeky smile, and in a voice like a midsummer storm, just says "I don't like the orange," in perfect English, just that smallest hint of an accent, like a faint shadow in his throat.

The second comes to his attention when the boy looks up, finally meeting Hajime's eyes for the first time. It is then that Iwaizumi's heart stops.

He's Asian like Hajime, possibly even Japanese. His skin is smooth and porcelain pale, with hair as shiny and soft-looking as clouds. But what truly enchants Hajime, taking over his mind like some spell, is two things. His eyes, like stars, big and brown and as gorgeous as liquid amber, and his hands. His hands. They are slender and delicate and perfect, his short nails painted a light pink. Rings sparkle from those graceful fingers, and the whole effect leaves Iwaizumi reeling.

And the cherry on top is when Hajime hands the boy his paper, too stunned to speak, and notices that every paper the boy has, including the one he just held a few seconds ago, are in a language he knows. A very familiar one, in fact.

They're in kanji.