Work Text:
I.
Shimamura copies the blackboard at the front of the room, half-heartedly listening to the teacher’s explanations in her hurry. Scribbling the last of the words written, she slaps her pencil down with a relieved sigh.
She props her chin onto her palm and uses her elbow on the desk as support, staring at the teacher as they continue to speak.
Even if she and Adachi had started attending class regularly again, a few weeks of class wouldn’t grant them instant knowledge that would allow them to catch up to their peers. With another sigh—of disappointment—Shimamura begins to zone out. Flicking her gaze to the clock, then to her notebook, then back to the board, she hopes time passes sooner. It’s almost lunch time and her stomach is starting to feel the pain of waiting.
Shimamura starts to survey the classroom. Some of the students are still copying down the teacher’s notes, while others, like Shimamura, were sitting back in their seats or fiddling with their pencils.
The lesson being about Japanese history, she decides that she would live, not paying attention. She never really understood it all that well in the first place.
Maybe she could ask Adachi for help… they both skipped class, Adachi even more so, yet the other managed to catch up quicker. Shimamura pouts at the thought. She switches her gaze from the blackboard to where Adachi’s seat was and is surprised to see that she’s already looking at her.
The girl holds a similar pose to her, except she was propping her right arm instead of her left. Her chin lifts from her palm, freezing up in shock. Maintaining eye contact, Shimamura lifts a single brow. A silent question.
What?
Adachi’s face turns red and she whips her head to face the front, picking up her pencil and staring resolutely at her notes.
Shimamura checks the blackboard, but the teacher is still explaining what she already wrote down. Did Adachi just need a break? She continues to look in Adachi’s direction the rest of class until lunch, but the girl never meets her eyes.
Shimamura chalks it up to coincidence.
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II.
The two of them decide to hang out after school per Adachi’s request. Walking to the bike racks, Adachi offers to bike the both of them there and Shimamura is quick to accept.
She doesn’t admit it, but the feeling of the biting cold wind in her face gives her a sort of adrenaline that she enjoys, a contrast to the warmth of Adachi’s shoulders under her hands. Thinking back, she usually hated everything about the cold before she met her. But that was probably because she didn’t get to experience the thrill of riding on a bike—standing upright against the rules—at the same time.
With Adachi’s quick pedaling, they reach the mall in record time. Shimamura waits while she locks her bike to the racks outside, and they head in together.
“Where do you want to go?”
When she doesn’t receive a response, Shimamura turns to look at Adachi who’s scanning the mall with narrowed eyes. She observes curiously as the girl finishes doing whatever she was doing, beaming with a satisfied smile.
Shimamura perks up at that. Adachi so often smiles with confusion or self-consciousness that it’s a nice sight to see her genuinely smile, even if the source could be questioned.
It doesn’t last long though because when Adachi realizes that she’s being watched, she sees Shimamura staring at her. Immediately, her face flushes and her lips turn downwards in a nervous frown. Averting her eyes from Shimamura’s eyes, then looking back again, Shimamura wouldn’t be surprised if her eyes started spinning.
“...what?” Is what Adachi asks.
Shimamura hums, a teasing smile starting to appear. “What made you so happy just now?”
She slightly regrets asking because once Adachi processes it, her face goes completely red. Babbling incoherently and waving her hands, it catches the sight of other passerbys who glance their way in concern. She’s unsure why a simple question garners a reaction as strong as this.
And yet, Shimamura doesn’t immediately calm her down, opting to watch her wind down herself. Adachi really was pretty, especially when flustered. When half-baked words come to a stop, Shimamura pats Adachi’s slumped shoulder in apology. She’s pretty sure there’s steam coming out from her ears.
She tries again. “Where did you want to go first?”
Adachi sighs in relief at the easy escape and leads them to the nearby doughnut shop. The red in her cheeks don’t really leave though, much to Shimamura’s amusement.
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III.
“Shimamura.”
“Hmm?”
“Are you busy today?”
Shimamura finishes packing up her books, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and facing Adachi. “Nope.”
“Can… can I go to your house today?” Adachi’s cheeks are flushed, but her fists are clenched at her sides and her eyes shine with determination even if the nervous set of the lips gives her away.
Shimamura tilts her head. For a moment, she wants to say no, just to see how Adachi would react and is quick to discard that thought, knowing the girl would be devastated. It would be like kicking a puppy.
“Sure. I was hoping you could help me with Japanese history anyway.”
Adachi beams at that, fists rising to her chest as if to start pumping in excitement. Shimamura can almost see dog ears and a wagging tail. The sight makes her warm in the chest, but before she can question the sensation, Adachi whirls and marches out of the room, not even waiting for her.
Reaching her house on Adachi’s bike, she invites her in. Her mom peeks her head out from the living room and sees Adachi.
“You again?” Shimamura supposes that reaction isn’t too far off—lately Adachi has been coming over more and more, which is probably why her mom shrugs it off and unpauses her soap opera. She’s glad that she doesn’t pester them today because Adachi looks ready to drop from those two words alone.
She expects her little sister to poke her head out from a doorway to greet her, but there’s nothing. Yashiro probably whisked her away or something.
Leading them upstairs, she opens the door to her claimed study room. Waving the dust away from her face, she turns on the kotatsu in the center, eager to warm up from the cold outside. She sits down and buries her legs under the table cover, patting the spot beside her. Adachi, stiff and clearly nervous, takes the invitation and sits next to Shimamura, awkwardly bending her legs at the knees to hunch over the table.
Hoping she’ll loosen up later, Shimamura takes out her homework, sorting it from easiest to hardest, starting the easy ones first. Adachi copies her movements, but seems to just take whatever was first in her bag, taking out her pencil case with it.
They work hard for about an hour and Adachi puts away her worksheets. When she turns back around, there’s colored construction paper in her hands.
Shimamura furrows her brows in confusion. Setting the papers down, Adachi explains sheepishly, “My manager at work wants me to make up some decorations.” She looks confused herself, fiddling with the pair of scissors she took out. “It’s supposed to be for Christmas, so I thought snowflakes would be easy enough.”
Shimamura nods, and with that, continues on her homework.
Some time passes. Stuck on a problem, she turns to Adachi.
“Hey, what did you get for—” Question dying on her tongue, she sees Adachi cutting away at the paper, a small stack of snowflakes set to the side. But mostly, she notes her apparent struggle.
Adachi’s scissors looked to be right-handed. Being left-handed, her hand positions itself uncomfortably on the grips, and Shimamura looks on pitifully.
So focused on her task at hand, Adachi doesn’t notice Shimamura stand up and leave the room. When she returns, she sits down next to Adachi again, glad to be back under the warmth of the kotatsu. She pokes the girl’s shoulder and grimaces when she flinches, running the blades through the paper and ripping it in half.
Adachi ignores it though in favor of looking at her. “W-What?”
Shimamura holds out a pair of scissors. It’s designed to accommodate left-handed people and she had to retrieve it from her father’s office, him being a leftie himself and buying it after one frustration too many. Holding its blades, the grips are easy to take.
Still, Adachi looks confused, her eyes darting from the scissors to Shimamura in rapid succession.
“Take it.”
Hesitantly, Adachi accepts it after setting down the other pair of scissors.
Shimamura smiles at her, pleased. Turning back to her paper, she picks up her pencil again. “I noticed that you were struggling,” is her only answer to Adachi’s silent question.
Glancing in the corner of her eye, the flushed look on Adachi’s face staring dazedly at the scissors in her hand makes Shimamura warm. Maybe she was getting a fever? She seems to be getting warm a lot nowadays despite the cold.
She wonders why she doesn’t have any other symptoms though.
Focusing on her worksheet, she blinks at the question printed in black ink. Right. She had to ask Adachi about that practice problem.
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IV.
Hino invites them to hang out with her and Nagafuji after school to continue their game from before. Shimamura agrees easily, and glances to her left where Adachi’s sat.
Adachi hesitates, but follows along. Shimamura smiles a little at that.
They take up similar positions as last time, Shimamura and Nagafuji sat at the table with Adachi and Hino kneeling in front of the television screen, controllers in hand. Unfortunately, the console decided to wipe their save file so they start a new game, Adachi and Shimamura sharing a controller and Hino and Nagafuji sharing the other.
Shimamura lays her head on her arms and listens to Hino and Nagafuji banter half-heartedly.
“I think this game would be better if there was a boomerang character.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Letting the comedy duo continue their routine, she watches the screen. Adachi was in first place again and she hits a button on the controller to roll the dice. With a total of six, her character jumps forward and onto a money spot. Shimamura studies her face to see her reaction. Nothing. Adachi’s eyes only blink before waiting for Hino to roll the dice.
Shimamura feels a bit disappointed at that and having no concrete answer for it, shrugs it off.
Nagafuji shouts, “My turn, my turn!” Getting up from the kotatsu, she crawls over to Hino and snatches the controller from her hands, ignoring Hino’s indignant ‘I was gonna give it to you anyway!’ Feeling the cold air come into the gap from when Nagafuji left, Shimamura shivers.
An idea pops into her head.
Waiting for Adachi to turn to hand her the controller, Shimamura strikes.
Patting the spot beside her, she suggests, “Come sit next to me.” Adachi reddens at the bold request but obeys, shuffling until she reaches her side, sitting with tense muscles. Shimamura rolls the dice and her character hops on a tile, where it’s then launched multiple spaces back. Damn, and she was already in last place too.
A wave of tremors overcomes her, still cold. Thinking on autopilot, she sidles towards Adachi and leans on her side to seek her body warmth, passing the controller to her at the same time. Shimamura sighs, satisfied from the heat coming off the girl next to her. Lazily warm and comfortable, she doesn’t notice the other’s predicament until Hino turns to them.
“Aren’t you gonna roll?”
Confused, she flits her eyes to Adachi and—oh. Controller still on the table, Adachi is preoccupied in avoiding her gaze, face fully red now. With her right arm sandwiched under Shimamura’s left, her left hand covers the upper half of her face. Shimamura can’t see her eyes, but she’s certain they’re spinning as they usually do when she gets like this, her trembling mouth a tell-tale that she isn’t just tired or upset.
Unless she is upset? Adachi had very unusual ways of conveying how she felt. Shimamura nudges her elbow into her side and the girl jolts, dropping her hand. “It’s your turn,” Shimamura says. Eyes whirling, Adachi mutters unintelligibly and picks up the controller. Internally there’s a relief that she didn’t somehow upset her after all.
She leans more into the human heat pack next to her, ignoring her flinch.
If her own face feels warm, she insists to herself it’s because of the combination of the kotatsu and Adachi’s body heat.
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V.
Shimamura notes a lot of things about Adachi that day. From how her bike wobbles more than usual in the morning on their way to school, and how she yawns a few times when Shimamura tries to talk to her while walking to class.
Even now, as she looks over to her classmate, separated by rows of other students, Adachi is not faring well to whatever is plaguing her that morning. Shimamura makes a little game of it. She realizes that once her pencil stops moving, Adachi’s head would start drooping soon after before jolting herself awake. And it continues in a cycle until lunch time.
Shimamura puts away her notebook and when she’s ready to head to the cafeteria, she stands. Usually, Adachi would already be at her side, waiting for her and fidgeting with her hands. But, as Shimamura makes her way over to the girl, she’s stealing a quick nap, using her arms as a pillow.
She kneels next to her desk. On a whim, she pulls out her phone and snaps a picture. Looking at the picture, she smiles to herself at the serene expression on Adachi’s face while unconscious.
Well, time to disrupt that peace.
With a poke to her cheek, Adachi opens her eyes wide in surprise and sits up, confusedly glancing around her. She sees Shimamura crouched beside her and blinks. She checks the clock and mumbles, “It’s lunch time?”
“Yep.” Shimamura takes her chance and pokes her cheek again, giggling at the squawk that Adachi lets out. “Pack up, let’s go.”
“...Okay.”
The entire lunch time, Adachi barely eats, her eyes glazed over and occasionally swaying in her seat. Hino and Nagafuji don’t notice in their daily banter, but Shimamura sees the way that she blinks hard as if it’ll wipe away the sleepiness.
At that, Shimamura reaches a decision.
They’re leaving the cafeteria and trailing behind Hino and Nagafuji, but Shimamura stops her classmate with a hand to the shoulder.
“Let’s skip the rest of class.”
“Huh?”
“I say we’ve been doing pretty well so far and deserve a break,” Shimamura hides her intent with a mischievous grin, concerned that Adachi would start malfunctioning if she said in the middle of the hallway that she was worried about her. Adachi nods, unsure how to respond.
They climb the steps to the second floor of the gymnasium. Adachi had asked about Hino and Nagafuji and whether or not they’d be wondering where they were but Shimamura waves it off, certain that maybe Hino would notice, but certainly not Nagafuji.
It’s cold, sitting on the floor. Shimamura forgot that they abandoned this spot because of winter’s wrath, but it slipped her mind. Adachi squirms next to her, playing with her hair.
Shimamura is blunt with it. “Actually, I just wanted you to rest. You were out of it the whole day.”
Adachi lets go of the strand of hair she was holding to process the words. There’s a soft blush on her cheeks, but she raises her arms to bend them at the elbows in a familiar position.
“I’m doing fine.”
“That’s bull.”
Adachi lowers them, the blush intensifying for a bit before ducking her head, embarrassed at getting caught. “Here,” Shimamura pats her outstretched legs, “You can nap on my lap.” Oh, that rhymed!
Next to her, Adachi’s face flushes a deep red, and she begins to shake her head. “No, no, I’m fine, it’s okay,” she repeats, but Shimamura is stubborn and continues to pat her lap with increasing intensity. Eyes spinning, Adachi gives up. She waits for Adachi to lay her head on her thighs and begins to pat her head, stroking her hair. Shimamura thinks about what made Adachi so exhausted. Did she have a busy day at work? Did she stay up late last night?
They rest in each other’s company in comfortable tranquility, the cold seeming just a bit more bearable.
“...You smell nice.”
“Huh?” Shimamura raises her eyebrows in surprise. That came out of nowhere. Deja vu hits her at the simple sentence and she’s reminded of the last time Adachi said something similar to that, except it was a lot more ambiguous. Adachi is quick to roll around to face her, cheeks already blushed at what she said.
“Sorry if that sounded creepy! I just meant like… um… it’s calming.” The last part of her sentence is murmured under her breath, but Shimamura hears it anyway from the close proximity. It’s quiet for a moment and she blushes a little herself, the embarrassment contagious.
At the same time, they look away from each other and Adachi rolls back around to hide her face and Shimamura continues to stroke her head in soft sweeps, marveling at its silkiness.
She ignores the way her heart skips, running Adachi’s words through her head.
.
Adachi crams her books into her bag and wraps her muffler around her neck, in a rush to get to Shimamura before Hino and Nagafuji. Pushing in her seat, she strides over to Shimamura who is taking her time to pack up. She wills herself to calm down—to act cool. A deep breath and just in time, because when Shimamura looks up and gives a casual smile, Adachi’s too busy gulping down air to start choking on her words.
“Let’s go.”
“Sure.” Another easy smile is sent her way and Adachi can’t hold back her internal swoon from how cute she looks under her own muffler.
As always, they go to the bike racks before splitting off, but today Adachi wants to be selfish, just a little bit, and take some more of Shimamura’s time to herself.
Another deep breath for confidence. “Do you want to go buy some snacks?”
“Sure.”
Adachi doesn’t know whether to cheer or wilt at the lukewarm response. Always going with the flow, Shimamura never protests, but she never shows signs of being eager either. As they walk in the direction of the grocery store, her classmate pulls out her phone and taps the screen, pulling it to her ear. A little wary, Adachi does her best to not appear to be eavesdropping to figure out who was on the other side.
Thankfully, it’s pretty obvious—Adachi ducks her head a little in shame that that wasn’t her first thought—the call recipient is just someone from home. The exchange is short, Shimamura asking if they need to buy anything, muffled speaking from the phone, and Shimamura saying ‘sure’ before hanging up.
She looks at Adachi who flicks her gaze back to the sidewalk, pretending she wasn’t paying attention to the call.
“I’m glad that you wanted snacks, honestly. Yashiro—” Adachi wrinkles her nose at the name of the alien-girl, “told me that there weren’t any more chips.” Shimamura sighs, exasperated. “She would’ve stolen my own.”
Pushing away her thoughts of telling off the alien-girl-Yashiro-whatever, Adachi offers a weak laugh.
An automated system welcomes them into the thankfully heated store when the automatic doors slide open and Shimamura grabs a basket stacked to the side. She beelines to the snacks aisle and Adachi trails behind. Surrounded by all sorts of snacks, Adachi isn’t eager to select one, if only to have a pretense for why she was even there. Shimamura is thorough though and studies the chips section, then the bags of candy, and picks a few, tossing them into the basket.
The ambience of distant radio music is broken when Shimamura asks, “Say, Adachi, what type of snacks do you like?” Adachi twitches, dropping the bag of gummies she was holding, scrambling to pick it up from the floor and blushing at the sound of the other’s laugh. Shimamura was curious about her? Her heart almost stutters, but it skips a beat in dread when she realizes that—on second thought—she doesn’t have a preference.
“…I don’t know…” It’s pathetic, and Adachi mumbles a ‘sorry’ afterwards.
“Mm, that’s a shame. I can’t say that I’m surprised though.” Shimamura’s reply surprises her, fuzzy at the thought of her knowing her well enough to predict her answers.
Keen on learning more about her, she throws back, “What about you?”
“They’re all good.”
Adachi sighs. Maybe it’s an honest truth, but Shimamura never reveals likes or dislikes about herself. A small comfort was that at least, Shimamura treats everyone like that, not giving them special treatment. But then again, wasn’t that the problem in the first place? Her goal to strive forward, to take Shimamura’s hand—to become the her number-one person—it wouldn’t be any good if Shimamura kept her behind the same walls.
“These are reliable ones though.”
With a flinch, Adachi realizes that Shimamura is standing right next to her and pointing at the bag of gummies in Adachi’s hands. She wasn’t even paying attention to them, instead using them as a staring point while in her thoughts. Looking closer now, they’re strawberry flavored gummies with jelly fillings.
“Then… I’ll get these.”
“Huh? Sure, whatever.” Shimamura takes another bag of them from the shelf, adding it to her pile of other snacks. Thankfully, she doesn’t notice Adachi’s excitement at the small tidbit of information to add to the measly list of ‘Shimamura’s Likes’.
As they wait for the cashier to finish ringing up their purchases, Adachi taking a lot shorter with her one item, they set off.
“Here, you can put them in the bike basket.”
“Oh, thank you very kindly! Do I get the honor of getting a ride too?”
“...I’d rather walk.”
“Sure, sure.” Maybe Shimamura looks pleased, but Adachi doesn’t get her hopes up, knowing it’s probably the joy of candy to eat later.
Adachi walking with Shimamura to her house ends up going unsaid. The silence is kind of awkward, so Shimamura shoots at her, “Adachi. Give us a topic!” She stumbles a bit, hesitates, and offers, “Um, tell me about your sister?” Shimamura looks at her, brows raised in surprise at the unlikely topic. But the easy-going girl goes along with it.
Walking side by side, Adachi at Shimamura’s right and holding her bike by the handles, she takes a moment to appreciate the girl next to her. With winter going strong, the days are shorter and the sun is well on its way to retiring for the night. The setting sun casts its glow on Shimamura, lighting up her features in a way that makes Adachi’s heart flutter.
She spends a few minutes like that, just studying Shimamura’s face and basking in the warmth thrumming through her veins. The lines of her side-profile, the way her lips curve gently upwards in her relaxed smiles, her voice narrating a story about her sister, her cute nose, and her brown eyes that were looking straight at her—
“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that funny.”
“What do you mean?”
Shimamura points a finger at her. “You’re smiling super wide.”
Adachi doesn’t know what comes over her so suddenly to make her blurt out:
“You’re really pretty, Shimamura.”
What the hell? Why’d you say that? She’s gonna think you’re nuts! Adachi blanches. Immediately turning to stare at her shoes, she thins her lips in regret and feels her face flush, hands shaking on the bicycle handles.
Dead-set on appreciating the concrete under her shoes, Adachi misses the way Shimamura’s face reddens and how she almost trips over her own feet.
“Ah, um, thanks.” Shimamura responds in a strained tone. Her words stumble and tremble, and she brings her hands to her cheeks, feeling it blaze despite the temperatures of the season. Her heart’s racing, she feels like she might start steaming at the ears, and why did she feel a sudden urge to scream into a pillow? She glances towards Adachi and is immensely grateful at the way she avoids her eyes.
For some reason, her usual thoughts of why Adachi would say things like this is overwritten with thoughts of how red her face must be right now. Adachi’s panic at saying it, the way her eyes had sparkled with so much sureness, it was basically her spilling out a thought, right? So then, why does the thought of her confessing right after not leave her with such a feeling of apprehension? Many times before Shimamura had thought along these lines, second-guessing Adachi’s intentions. But something changed. In fact it’s a dangerous thought, making her slap her cheeks lightly to clear it.
Adachi has changed a lot since they first met. Yet, slowly but surely, Shimamura is changing too.
The rest of the walk is drenched in tense silence. Short goodbyes are said when they reach Shimamura’s house, and she waves at Adachi’s retreating back with a handful of plastic bags.
Shimamura spends a lot of time staying up that night, covering her mouth with a hand as a blush adorns her cheeks, wondering if maybe she really was having a fever.
It’s her only explanation for being so thoroughly flustered at Adachi’s compliment.
And if she spends a few more hours rolling around in bed thinking about Adachi’s words and perhaps—just a little—Adachi herself, no one needs to know.
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