Don't Let Me Go (Futaba x Kou)

Chapter 3

I really apologize for forgetting about this; I'm not even gonna make an excuse anymore, because I made a mistake and I am gonna make up for it.

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Kriiiiinnnggg

Futaba packed up her stuff like her life depended on it, and ran out the door while dodging every person she saw; meanwhile, Kou was simply picking up his unopened bag (he never actually did anything during class anyway), for he actually got a peek (and by "peek", he actually photocopied it from her secret school file that he stole when the secretary in the Principal's Office wasn't looking) at her class schedule, and he knew for a fact that her - make that their - next class is Literature.

Back to Futaba; she was already in class, and pulled out another notebook, and this time, it was one filled with little stories, poems, and songs she made since. . . it happened. It wasn't a very happy notebook, to say the least, but it kept her stable.

Kou walked slowly, and funnily enough, it made him look dreamier to all the gawking girls that passed by him; somehow it had also made sparkles surround him while he did so (talk about powers of a dreamy guy).

He was actually feeling a bit guilty stalking Futaba so much - heck, he didn't even want to consider it stalking.

He prefers the term, "admiring as much as he could without interfering in her life".

Denial was definitely his co-pilot.

He finally reached the room, and surprisingly, there were more people coming earlier than the teacher compared to their last subject; he concluded that either people actually enjoyed Literature, or he was just that slow.

Nonetheless, he made sure to discreetly sit near, but not too near, just close enough to see her without letting her know he was gonna glance at her every few minutes (or seconds).

He wasn't that obsessed with befriending her. . . and then maybe planning how to ask her on a date right after, but he knew not to seem too desperate.

Yup - definitely not obsessed.

After contemplating what he needs to do, calculating the distance he has to put in between them, and gathering enough courage to put his 'plan' into action, he finally sat down in just the right place.

As if he was just waiting for him to sit down, their Literature teacher came in just as Kou sat down.

He looked like a plump, rosy tomato, with only a few strands of graying hair at the sides, and he looked like he was stuffed with rainbows and sunshine.

He had the aura of the nicest person on the planet, and looked like he had patience as long as Rapunzel's hair.

Kou furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion.

Teachers don't look that nice. . . must be a substitute.

He just doesn't trust teachers anymore; they put on a smile just to keep their job, and then when they think no one's paying attention - or at least, no one important is in the same room as them - they act like they're PMSing.

Despite his distrust, the atmosphere felt. . . nice - no pressure, no intimidation, just smile and go with the flow.

If 'don't worry, be happy' was a type of liquid, then we'd be drowning in it already.

Despite the obvious new atmosphere the classroom suddenly had, he turned to Futaba, who was currently speculating the new teacher.

He frowned; he wanted her to look at him, and surprisingly, she did.

Dann it, I'm not ready!

He turned away so fast, he had accidentally knocked over his bag that was on his desk, sending all his stuff flying and landing onto the floor.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

So much for being discreet.