Weyland Lemming is a narcissistic, pessimistic, American transfer student who's been living in Japan for two years now. His one friend, a sweet girl named Sayori, wants his last year there to be something to remember. All but forcing him to join the...
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I always love to paint
My favorite color is red
Sometimes, when I run out...
. x . x . x . x .
Shit, I can't believe I actually forgot I was late to school. Hidei is going to be so mad this time; literally just yesterday, I told him I won't be late anymore. Can I be any worse a liar? Goddammit, 'Yori. Pinching the bridge of my nose as I stand outside of my second period, I muster what little courage I have to face my teacher and my peers. Which is little to none, as Hidei scares the hell out of me.
Pushing the door open, I brace myself for the silent assault I know is going to come. As I expected, many eyes train on me as the door creaks open loudly. An older pair, a wise and judging pair, overpower the weight of all of the others and I'm forced to bite the inside of my cheek. Raising my hand up in a sad excuse for a wave, I smile sheepishly. "Hiya, Mister Hidei."
The thick-rimmed glasses wearing Hidei says nothing, his greying brows twitch in annoyance as he points towards my empty seat. I could feel today was going to be a long, long day. And I haven't even sat down yet. Saying nothing after my greeting, I awkwardly shuffle across the front of the class, several pairs of eyes follow me and I can't help myself as I chuckle nervously. It's not my fault I'm always late, I swear! I want to say it almost every time I enter the class, but I know he or anyone else won't believe me.
I smack my forehead against my desk in defeat as Hidei coughs and continues speaking to the rest of the class. Something sounds to my left, but I ignore it as I feel it isn't aimed at-
"Psst, Weyland!"
-me. I was wrong.
Turning my head to the left, now facing the seat next to mine, it was the other pinkette, the one I barely knew, Natsomething. What could she want? To rub in the fact I was late? "What?" I think I forgot to whisper, but Hidei either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Using her hand to push her wrapped bangs out of her face, she grins cheekily at me.
"Same!" Her scratchy comment confuses me for a moment before I realize what she means. Same, as in she was late too. At least I think? I'm going to need clarification.
"Same?" I should probably whisper.
Her face falls flat as she stares at me with a look that reads 'are you serious right now?' I pay it no mind, and she rolls her eyes. "I was late too, doofus." Turning her body towards me, she loosely hangs her arm off of her desk. "About five minutes before you came in, actually!" Ah, okay. Why is she telling me, exactly? Do we even know each other?
"Why are you telling me-"
"Mister Lemming, I know this is your final year at Mugen Academy, but that does not mean you are void of the rules. Now please, be quiet, lest I send you to in-house detention. Again." I purse my lips, turning away from the rosy-eyed girl in a silent huff. Of course, I almost get in trouble. Should've whispered, sonovab-
"You should start whispering, he's half deaf, remember?"
Is it 'interrupt Weyland day' here or did I not get the memo? Seriously, can I not think to myself for more than five seconds? Yes, I can? Good. Christ. I snap my head back in her direction and I scoff. "No, I don't remember, otherwise I would've been doing it from the start!" She only silently laughs at my response, my cheeks redden as I groan in annoyance.
I hate my Psychology class. I don't even understand how I landed here, I wanted maths class so I could be with Sayori! Instead, I'm stuck with pinky-er pinkette. "Well now you know for, y'know, future reference and stuff." I raise a brow at her, are we still talking? How does she even know me? I don't think I've said anything to her yet, excluding now obviously. Did we talk last year and I just forgot her?
Wow, kind of a dick move, if that's the case. May as well get an answer, eh? "How do you know my name?" She blinks at my sudden question before raising a brow in a quizzical manner.
Also, she mumbled a duh, but I ignored that part.
"We were study-hall partners last year, I made you dango!" I'm trying my best to remember, I really am, but I'm drawing blanks here. I motion with my hand to try and draw out more of an answer. Also, I'm sure I'd remember someone who made me dango. That stuff's good. "We hung out for like, a week?" Nope, nothing—oh, wait!
"Mango Girl?" There's no way, this is the girl that tried inviting me to the Mango Club last year? I hardly recognize her! Granted, I can't even remember half of my last year's teachers' names.
She clenches her teeth as her face reddens dramatically, "shhh! Don't say that out loud, you loser! And it's MangA!" I really hope she realizes she just earned several looks from our other classmates, but also, I'd feel really bad if she finds out.
Also, I know it's pronounced Manga, but Mango is so much more fun to say! Wait, hold up. How is she in Psychology? Isn't this a third-year class? Goddammit, I'm getting more and more questions the more I think. Maybe I should stop talking to her-
"... but yes... it's Mango Girl." Her defeated tone draws my attention to her once more, her arms are crossed over her rather small chest and her bottom lip is puffed out. Is she pouting? It's not my fault I can only remember something embarrassing about her! Not that it's really that embarrassing, but still. "But call me Natsuki! Natsuki Akiyama, because that's my name, alright? Not Mango Girl!"
"You want me to call you Natsuki Akiyama? That's a bit of a mouthful, don't you thi-"
"I'm going to strangle you."
"Natsuki. Got it."
"Good."
The sound of a ringing bell and shuffling of people doesn't distract me from her threat, I just hope she didn't really mean it. The glare she's now giving me proves otherwise.
I'm more thankful I was late to class today than I'm not. I'm pretty sure this conversation would've ended on an even worse note if I wasn't. I shiver silently to myself in thought.
