notes I'M PROJECTING TAKE WITH THAT WHAT YOU WILL


Praise the hermit, regret the friend;


chapter 7

It's a weird moment, for Fuji.

Naoto is easy to talk to; makes it easy for him to talk to. To be honest, it's not the first time Fuji's noticed or thought it. Senpai is awkward, but comfortably so. He corrects his words mid-sentence with a furrow in his brow and although his handwriting is not the neatest he writes slowly, deliberately. Over the years, Naoto has become more careful and less brash.

Now, there's a loudness in Naoto's actions that speaks volumes for the things he wants and can't seem to translate. Naoto is so good at answering questions that start with 'how' and terribly lacking when he answers ones that start with 'why'.

But he's always been honest.

Fuji's sure they sit there together for at least several minutes. Naoto's fingers twiddle absently, and at the same time, Fuji finds he doesn't mind it. How often do you find someone to share the same space with?

With a groan, Naoto purses his lips. "I forgot to stretch," he whispers, tilting his head sharply.

"Have fun feeling sore tomorrow."

"Shut up." Then, "Thanks, Fuji."

What a surprise. Fuji hums, pleased.

Naoto gives him a strange look. "What?"

"I don't know if you've noticed Senpai, but you spend more time than you think saying 'sorry' than you do saying 'thank you'."

"Do I?"

"I think so, as a person who cares."

Naoto nods slowly. "Thanks," he says, "for caring."

Of course, Fuji thinks. "Of course," he says.

Naoto gives him a strange look, but his expression smooths out into a small smile.

Fuji thinks there are a lot of things Naoto doesn't give himself enough credit for.

.

"That was cool," Ashida says to him. "You're really cool, Tokuda-kun."

The compliment stings a little, but Naoto pushes the urge to curl up down. "Thanks." He's trying. "I didn't think you'd be here."

The tennis regulars had made their leave, for the most part. Fuji gave him a look before he left with them, nodding when Naoto gave him a small thumbs up. Fuji had excused himself quietly, bowing to Ashida quickly as he left. Ashida had just waved back: a small, listless movement.

It looked a little sad, though Naoto was unable to tell what made it so.

Ashida is more straightforward than Nakajima, in many ways. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday," she says. "For running off. I didn't even really hear what you had to say. I should have reassured you when I could. I was just…"

"Angry?"

She nods, sniffling a little. This time, Naoto is prepared. He holds out his handkerchief.

He asks, "Angry at me?"

"A little. Because I think it's so unfair that you don't see what I can."

"And you're the one with corrective lenses," he jokes. Ashida laughs a little at that. "You could always see better than I could."

"Maybe you need glasses." She brightens. "You'd look good in glasses. Maybe glasses are the key to everything."

"Not once did I ever think my 20/20 vision would be the bane of my existence."

"Not a bane," Ashida corrects him. "It's complementary to your existence! There are a lot of people who wear glasses as like a fashion accessory, you know. You could be one of those people."

Naoto snorts. "Yes. Me, the perfect fashion icon."

"Not with those eyebrows you aren't. You've got a long way to go, Tokuda-kun."

Well. "You're right on that one."

Ashida elbows him playfully, casually. Naoto is relieved; for a moment, it feels like things are back to normal. "Everyone's on a different path," she reminds him. "It's not just you. You should remind yourself that more often." She folds her fingers together and raises her arms to the sky, stretching them as far out as she can. Naoto watches the corners of her eyes crinkle. Then he notices her squeeze her eyes shut, blinking hard a couple of times before she turns fully to face him.

"I like you," she confesses, and it reminds Naoto of the first time she said this to him, just over a year ago. She'd gotten rid of the glasses, by then. "And I care about you. You know this."

Naoto swallows hard, nodding.

"And I know that you probably care about me."

"I do," Naoto says. This time, he takes her hand in his. Her other hand is still holding his handkerchief.

"But I don't just want that," she says. "I want to be a person you can rely on, and talk to, and go to if you ever need."

Doesn't he want that, too? Naoto finds it hard to respond immediately. He squeezes her hand instead.

Maybe because she knows, too. "But you don't need that in me. I keep thinking about what I can do. How to fix this. How to secure my own insecurities. Because I want to help."

Help what?

"I want to be the person you need. But you don't want that."

"I just—" He cuts himself off because he's frustrated. He wants to do better, for her, but he doesn't know how, and he doesn't know how to give her all of that. How can you give yourself to someone, all at once? How can you trust that? "I know. And I care about you. And there are things that I want to give you and there are some things I just. Maybe I need more time. I just need more time."

"You do just fine with Fuji-kun."

Naoto's eyes narrow. "What does he have to do with any of this?" But his stomach lurches.

Ashida cowers a little, her eyes shifting to the left. She looks close to tears. "There's a part of you that depends on him," she whispers. "Sometimes it feels like I'm being left behind. Even now," she says, looking at him imploringly. "He went to you and he made things better. And I couldn't have done the same."

"What if it had been you?" Naoto asks, eyes searching hers. What is she saying? "So what if it had been you? Would you have been able to help? Would anyone have been able to do that?"

"That's not the point! The point is that not just anyone would have been able to help you."

"But if it had been you—"

"Would you have let me?"

What is she saying? "What are you saying?"

Ashida's crying now, as she pulls her hand away from his. "I'm saying that maybe you need to think about what you want. Because I know what I want. And sometimes it's not knowing that hurts more."

Naoto runs his hands through his hair. "I don't want to hurt you," he says. "My intention was never to hurt you."

But she cuts him off again. "But do you even care how I feel?"

I do, Naoto says to himself. Of course he does. For a moment, he disassociates: God, he thinks. It always comes back to this. But he stops himself from answering; it's not what she wants to hear. "I'm…"

Sorry? No, that's not right.

"Thank you," he says instead. "For being here. You deserve that." You deserve someone who can give you what you want.

Why couldn't it be him?

.

Moe is waiting for him at the gate. Naoto stops in his steps when he sees her, confused, and then looks around before walking closer.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Waited."

"Why?"

She shuffles her feet. "Wanted to."

"Oh."

"…Yeah."

"Okay. Thanks."

Moe grunts and holds out a carton of strawberry milk to him. Naoto takes it, mildly surprised, and the two of them start their way back home. It'd been a while since they last walked home together; Moe was busy with after school activities, and she often went to a friend's house to study during the week. To know that she was waiting for Naoto surprised him, but he welcomed her companionship.

"Do you think I'm selfish?"

Naoto glances at her, surprised. "What makes you say that? Also, where is this coming from?"

"Someone in class mentioned it," Moe sighs. "Not in a mean way, but it was enough to start me thinking on it. Do you think I am?"

Naoto shrugs. "I think you like attention. But I don't think that's uncommon, and I don't think it's always bad."

"But am I selfish?"

"What kind of answer are you expecting from a family member?"

Moe sighs again, kicking a stray pebble out of her path. "I just thought maybe you had a different opinion, since you know me best."

"Do I?"

Moe looks at him. "Don't you?"

Naoto avoids looking at her directly. It's hard to say. Moe is charismatic and talkative among her peers. She speaks openly when she's asked and is a natural-born leader, something Naoto could never really understand. But to him, she was just his bratty younger sister.

"I asked Fuji-senpai the same thing the other day."

Naoto snorts, slurping noisily from his straw. "That's so typical of you," he comments with a chuckle. "Back to chatting normally with the person you confessed to just not long ago. It's not awkward between the two of you at all?"

Moe rolls her eyes. "I'm over it. And he's a good senpai. It'd suck if I made things so awkward between us that things could never be normal. You're also friends with him. Isn't it weird for you?"

"You're right. It's only weird if you make it weird," Naoto says. "I've never been weird with him. You got over him fast, though."

"I've had a crush on him for like, three years. It's about time to move on."

"Admirable," Naoto says dryly.

"So did you break up with your girlfriend or not?"

"What?" That came out of nowhere. Naoto scowls a little. "What's it to you? Here, you can have the rest of this."

Moe takes the carton from him, filching the straw from it with a grimace before tossing it into a nearby bin. "I just wanted to know. Fuji-senpai had a weird look on his face when he left earlier."

A weird look on his face? "Wait, why were you even waiting for me for so long?"

"I figured something was up. You were acting all weird this morning."

"Right. I forgot you only stuck around for the gossip." To be honest, he's still recovering from his conversation with Ashida, too shocked by it to be annoyed by Moe's prying.

"That's not fair," Moe mumbles. "I wanted to help."

"Help with what? You don't even know what's wrong."

"I'll know if you tell me."

The frustration bleeds into his voice. "Why, so you can go tell your friends? So you and Fuji can go gossiping behind my back?"

"No! I'm just worried."

"Well, don't be. Because there's nothing for you to be worried about, and maybe this is something you should really stay out of."

"That's not what Fuji-senpai's face said today."

Naoto stops. "Why, what was weird about his face? Why do you keep bringing up his face? Did he say anything to you?"

"He just looked sad." Moe's eyebrows crease as her facial expression morphs into something very unlike her. All of Moe is expressive, from the way her nose crinkles to her fingertips, tapping impatiently to a song on her phone she wants to skip. But Moe's eyes are the most expressive and, as Naoto stares into them now, he realises he saw something similar in Ashida's when she had asked him if he cared.

His lips are dry as he asks. "Why was he sad?"

"Probably because you were, too."

Naoto wonders why no one just gives up. No one ever just backs down, or sigh, or say, 'Naoto's a fucking loser and we should all just leave him alone and stop caring'. Even Ashida, swamp-deep in the middle of an argument, never accuses him of not doing enough, not being good enough or treating her well enough. Ashida gives, and gives, and maybe—maybe there's a part of Naoto that resents that. And she doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve him like that. It makes Naoto realise he never has anything to give to anyone.

Moe reaches up to pat him lightly on the shoulder and leans her weight into his. He prefers this, comfort at a distance. In the moment, Naoto feels both sorry and thankful for the knowledge that although Moe is small, her heart is bigger than anyone's he's ever known.

He wants to be like that, someday.

.

.

.


tbc