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Making friends was never an easy process for you. You could count on one hand the amount of friendships you’d initiated yourself, and most of those occurred between the ages of five and twelve. After that, it was not smooth sailing and you found yourself sinking deeper into a pit of self-doubt and self-loathing.
Because, you figured that the only reason you couldn’t form connections deeper than surface-level was because you were… well, you. People never made the effort to approach you, so you didn’t put in the effort either. Though at first it was a tough pill to swallow, you’d convinced yourself that was just how life went as one of the unlucky ones.
Maybe you’d be a bit more content if the lucky ones would retain their distance from you.
In a way, they did. The kids with big friend groups--the typical loud, chatty ones that pushed tables together in the cafeteria to fit their whole squad--didn’t really interact with the likes of you. Not that you minded. You only started to mind when they did start to interact with you in a less-than-pleasant manner.
It started with lingering glances that you felt burn into the back of your neck during lunch. That’s what initially drove you out of the main cafeteria and into the bathroom, where you’d neglect eating in exchange for a quiet, botherless place. Then it led to too-tight smiles being sent your way in the hallways, followed by silent laughter shared among their groups. By then you’d caught on, and tried to distance yourself from them. But things never went as planned for unlucky ones like you.
They’d talk to you in class, eyes narrowed, brows raised, and smiles pulled taut against their conventional features as they chatted about their weekend with you as if you were all old friends.
It hurt more than being alone had. After a while, you learned to be alone and not lonely. You liked it, even. Knowing that these people were feigning friendship for their own sick entertainment only served to hold you back in the grand scheme of school-life.
You remembered all the jeering comments from junior high even when entering your first year of high school. You remembered the comments on your hair (“Yeah! That’s such a cute style! You should wear it more often”) that only led to you holding back tears in the girls’ bathroom during lunch and plucking out bobby pins from within your hair, reverting back to whatever style you typically wore. You remembered comments on your photos that you’d even dared to post online (“I liked your outfit that you wore on your trip last weekend. So cute”) that nearly made you delete your account after heavy consideration.
You remembered a lot of things. Maybe too many for your own good. It’s what led to you lacking trust in everyone around you and analyzing things far too deeply to be healthy.
When you entered high school, you expected things to be the same. Though the same group of people weren’t following you to your choice of school (Shiratoriawa, which you studied frantically for in what you were sure was a subconscious effort to distance yourself from whatever schools they would be attending), you figured that people didn’t change. People didn’t mature. It was still school, after all. No age or grade or whatever would change human nature.
Maybe that’s why Tendou Satori had been such an enigma to you in your first year.
You remembered entering homeroom--no daring makeup, no accessories to your uniform, and hair worn as always--and avoiding the gazes of all your classmates. You plopped yourself into whatever spare seats were in the back and waited for the day to start, quiet and mundane and tiring as always.
What you hadn’t been expecting was someone to talk to you--already, on your first day. As if you were such a visible target for those around you that they could immediately sniff out your inferiority among them.
Bright red hair that seemed to defy gravity was the first feature you noticed. His eyes were a similar color, though certainly darker, and his expression was far too similar to those you’d seen in the past for comfort.
“Hiya! I’m Tendou. What’s your name?”
The greeting went in one ear and out the other, though the general gist of it had stuck inside your head well enough to be able to process it. You averted your eyes from his. The best way to deal with someone like him was to respond, and not hope for, ask for, or do anymore than that.
You gave him your name. His smile only widened.
“Nice to meet you. I hope we can be good friends.”
You stayed silent. There wasn’t much point in saying anything. Your nails bit into the skin around your thumbs until it was red and aching.
Weeks passed and Tendou has resigned himself to a strange sort of routine with you. He’d say good morning, ask you about the homework, and make small comments during lecture which you assumed were attempts to get something out of you. Before lunch, he’d ask you if you wanted to sit with him. You’d decline, spend your break in the bathroom, come back to class, and the events from the morning would only repeat themselves with the addition of a polite farewell at dismissal as you two parted to different dormitories.
It was uncomfortable, but you put up with it because--well, what else were you supposed to do?
Tendou was a bit peculiar to you, though. He put up facades of false friendliness just like the old kids from junior high used to do. But whenever you’d catch him in the hallways, he never seemed to walk in groups like they used to. You couldn’t speak for how it was during lunch, considering that you were never really there--but when you occasionally spotted his bright red head of hair bounding through the halls, he was always alone.
You shrugged it off. To be fair, you didn’t see him often outside of class, so the conclusions you’d drawn were bound to be at least a little off.
A couple of months went by. The routine didn’t change, and neither did you and Tendou. You were both the same individuals, and just as always, you weren’t planning on twisting any of fate’s strings.
Tendou seemed to be different, though. He seemed to grow more and more curious of you as time passed. His questions became less vague and more frequent. He started voluntarily walking with you in the hallways whenever lunchtime rolled around. Thankfully, he never questioned it when you parted ways with him and walked in a direction that certainly didn’t lead to a cafeteria.
Until his curiosity peaked, early in the morning before homeroom started.
He greeted you, as always, and let you simmer in comfortable silence for a minute before he decided to prod at you.
“Hey, [Name]. I never see you in the lunchroom. What’s that about?”
You paused. No one ever really asked you about that before. You blinked once, then twice, and cleared your throat.
“I don’t like going there.” You didn’t know where your sudden streak of honesty came from. Even Tendou seemed a bit shocked at your suddenly-informative response, and seemed to make the most of this unusual occurrence.
“So, where do you go instead? Library?”
“No.”
“Then…?”
“Bathroom.”
“...oh…? Why don’t you sit with me at lunch today?”
Oh. The pattern came back. “No, thank you.”
“C’mon! Just this once. I promise. And then you can come back if you want, but you don’t have to.” You retracted your previous statement. Usually Tendou would let you do your own thing after asking once, but this was different. Again.
You took the time to consider his suggestion--again, something that was unfamiliar to you. Maybe just once. Just to analyze more of who he was and who his friends were--if he had any. You’d keep your expectations low, you promised yourself. (But a voice at the back of your head giggled in childish excitement at the prospect of maybe having an actual acquaintance.)
You agreed, and Tendou made an exclamation of victory that you couldn’t help but find a little endearing.
When lunchtime rolled around, Tendou bounded to you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you along to the cafeteria (which you’d never seen before, so you couldn’t help but stare in mild awe at the grandeur of it). He’d asked you if you were buying lunch--you said no, as you never really had an appetite this time of day and he gave a playful frown, flicking you on the forehead and reminding you that you still had to eat and stay healthy.
Since you hadn’t gone on line, he didn’t, either. You voiced your guilt and he shrugged, dragging you a long to a separate stand away from the main line and purchasing a few snacks for you to share.
“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” you told him. “You really don't have to get me anything, though.”
“Nonsense!” Tendou exclaimed. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn't make sure you were well-fed?”
Though the nature of his words were playful, you found a hint of something in his eyes and tone. Something that, despite your years of analyzing people’s body language and tone and words, you simply could not deduce that easily and put a label on.
You paused. It was so foreign to you, but Tendou seemed almost… genuine.
His smile became more soft rather than teasing, and he took the initiative to take hold of your wrist again and lead you to his table. Whereas you initially expected a large group of loud, coquettish boys you were met with a near-empty circular table occupied by two other boys.
“Miracle Boy! Reon! This is the girl I told you about!” Your steps faltered for a minute--he’d told them about you? Maybe he was less genuine than you thought.
‘Miracle Boy’ seemed like an amusing nickname, though, different from the ones you’d heard before. You couldn’t tell which boy had which name, though, leaving you in the dark as you and Tendou took a seat next to each other.
One boy had dark brown hair while the other had a strange olive color. The former gave you a smile, like the one you’d seen Tendou give you just moments before.
“I’m Reon. This is Ushijima.” He introduced him and his friend, and you found a wobbly, unfamiliar smile playing on your lips. “You’re [Name]? Tendou has told us abit about you.”
You didn’t know how to take that, and your hesitation must’ve shown in your expression as Reon gave you a gentle chuckle and a dismissive wave of his hand.
“All good things. Nothing to worry about.”
With introductions and mild reassurance out of the way, casual conversation proceeded amongst the four of you--well, mainly among the three of them. You didn’t really find yourself inputting anything into the conversation too often, preferring to listen and nibble on the food Tendou had offered you, nodding along to whatever discussion they had.
You realized that the way Tendou interacted with Reon and Ushijima, who you assumed were his close friends, was very similar to the way he interacted with you. It made you separate him from your initial interpretations of his character and hold him in a much better light, though still with a hesitation you simply couldn’t get rid of that easily. Reon was calm and very friendly, asking for your input at certain points in the conversation in what you saw as a genuine attempt to involve you in their group. He was observant, you thought, noticing his eyes glancing your way occasionally and taking in your body language before asking you certain questions and shooting kind smiles your way. Ushijima was quiet and seemed indifferent to your presence--which you appreciated. You’d rather have him indifferent than hateful or jeering, and you didn’t take it personally. He just seemed to have that sort of personality.
By the end of lunch, you found yourself smiling and enjoying yourself. They didn’t seem like the same type of people you knew from junior high. It was a new experience, though not an unwelcome one, and you asked Tendou once you returned to class if you could join him again tomorrow.
“Always, [Name]!” He shot you one of his blinding, playful grins and you couldn’t hold back the upwards drag of your lips.
That day you found yourself reciprocating his farewell at dismissal, giving him a wave, a smile, and a nod before making your way back to the girl’s dorms.
This was good, you thought. Very good.
Another month passed by, and you developed a routine different than the previous. You’d say good morning, and ask how volleyball practice had been the day before (which you learned he attended early on in your newly-formed friendship). You and him would chat during lulls in class, passing notes occasionally if you felt the need to talk while the teacher was still droning on. When lunch came, he’d take gentle hold of your wrist and lead you to his table--or, on certain occasions, to his volleyball practice, where he made sure you were comfortable despite the intimidating-looking coach. At the end of the day, you’d say goodbye, with a promise to talk to him the next morning or after the weekend was over.
It took you a while to get used to. But you certainly weren’t mad at it, and Tendou’s presence made it easier for you to adjust than you once thought it would be. You’d stuck to interacting with him only during school--which, in your defense, was what you thought most people did. The concept of meeting up with classmates off school grounds, actually leaving your dorms during the weekends rather than staying holed up in your room as your roommate went out and had her fun--it was even more alien than any other newly-adapted-to-concept had been for you.
When he suggested exchanging phone numbers, you blinked owlishly at him before processing the fact that maybe that was something you should’ve done a long time ago and obliging to the task. When he asked you to go to the mall with him, Reon, and Ushijima, you repeated the dumbfounded gesture once again, before giving a halfhearted smile and nodding along.
You were nervous, there was no doubt. But you sucked it up, put on a modest, but (somewhat) stylish outfit, and walked to the train station with your three friends. (It was almost amusing for you to see that number placed next to that word and used in a context referring to you-- but you giggled in your room thinking about it and couldn’t find the strength to doubt yourself.)
Tendou greeted you outside the girls’ dorms, and you felt nervous as he paused on his typical greeting to look you up and down. In the middle of wishing you’d grabbed an oversized sweater rather than the cropped jean jacket you chose, Tendou gave a bright, comforting smile, and laced his fingers with yours.
“You’re pretty, [Name].”
You couldn’t help but take apart that sentence as the two of you walked to the train station, Tendou’s endearing rambling becoming a consistent buzz at the back of your head. He stated it like it was fact. He was so sure in everything he said, and this time it was no different. There was no stopping the creeping grin appearing on your face, and Tendou seemed to take notice as his hand squeezed the slightest bit tighter around yours.
To put it simply, the trip to the mall was fun. Reon gave you a gentle yet knowing look as you and Tendou approach with hands still interlocked, and you were sure you saw Ushijima crack a smile or two during the duration of your trip. Tendou didn’t leave your side--which you felt the slightest bit guilty about, but he managed to brush that internal guilt away wordlessly with simple smiles and his sheer presence.
Though the four of you barely purchased anything other than food, Tendou made the effort to drag you into a children’s accessory shop while Reon and Ushijima went to order food for all of you. At your confused expression, he leaned down to your height, narrowed his eyes, and analyzed your face before bursting out into giddy giggles.
“I think you should style your hair more often,” he’d told you. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think these clips would look nice.”
You left the store with a large, full bag in hand, filled with colorful, bright accessories that Tendou bought and made you promise to wear at least for the next week. It was a childish bargain, sure, but one you knew had deeper meaning than what was just spoken. There was something more in his eyes that you couldn’t hep but smile fondly at as you both left the store and faced Reon’s and Ushijima’s faintly amused expressions.
Tendou had started off as an enigma to you. He was someone strange--someone you assumed to be the same type you seemed to constantly find yourself tied up in, only to flip that judgement on its head and become the exact opposite.
The thing about enigmas is that they’re not good or bad--they’re just
weird.
They’re different, they’re confusing, they’re something
new.
It was the perfect way to describe Tendou, you thought. He took some getting used to. But he certainly wasn’t bad.