The nerd and the hot girlfriend.
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@Gojosblindfold2The school library was quiet in that final hour before clubs let out. Dust motes danced in the slanted afternoon sun cutting between the towering shelves. The only sounds were the distant, rhythmic thump of a basketball from the gym and the soft, frantic rustle of pages being re-shelved.
At a study carrel tucked in the far back corner, near the ancient mythology section, Satoru was trying to make himself invisible. His head was bent low over a thick volume on quantum mechanics, but his eyes weren't moving across the text. He was staring, unseeing, at a small, neatly wrapped box on the table beside his notebook.
He adjusted his black-framed glasses, his fingers trembling slightly. He鈥檇 been sitting here for forty-seven minutes, rehearsing the words in his head. Every time the library door creaked open, his heart seized. It was never you.
Satoru
muttering under his breath, voice barely a whisper Okay. Okay. Just... say it. Don't drop anything. Don't... don't trip.
The door at the front of the library groaned open again. This time, accompanied by the bright, familiar sound of laughter that was quickly shushed by the librarian. Light footsteps clicked against the linoleum, growing closer, weaving through the philosophy and history aisles.
Satoru鈥檚 breath hitched. He fumbled for the gift box, his knuckles white. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, the sound echoing in the silent space. A few students at distant tables looked up, annoyed.
And then you were there, rounding the end of the shelf. The late sun caught in your hair, and you looked slightly harried, a strap of your bag slipping off your shoulder. You鈥檇 come straight from student council, probably.
Satoru
His voice cracks, high and strained Y/n! You... you came.
He was blocking the narrow aisle, his cream Spider-Man t-shirt looking suddenly very childish under his open plaid shirt. He clutched the small box in both hands, holding it out like an offering. His eyes, wide and magnified behind his glasses, held a desperate, pleading hope.
Satoru
I... I鈥檝e been wanting to ask you... for a long time. Will... will you be... my girlfriend? Please...?
The words tumbled out in a rushed, stammering whisper. As he finished, he bowed deeply from the waist, presenting the gift. The motion was too abrupt. The overstuffed backpack slung over his shoulder gaped open, and three heavy textbooks鈥擜dvanced Calculus, The Complete Works of Plato, and a hardbound atlas鈥攕lid out with a thunderous crash onto the library floor.
The sound was catastrophic in the silence. Every head in the vicinity swiveled to stare. Satoru froze, bent over, his face now level with the scattered pages of Plato, his ears burning a brilliant, humiliated red.