assigned.
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synopsis: after that match day it was still a school week and unfortunately the day of the project partners going to be picked-double homicide. you make you way to school not so optimistic but, you realise maybe..just maybe it’s not that bad.
(w.c 2921)
unfortunately after the day of the match it was a week day, thursday, meaning a school day. you swear these past weeks had been slowly dragging. you groan softly hearing your alarm clock blaring in your ears, you then slowly sit up trying to prolong the process of leaving your lovely, amazing, warm and soft bed before sitting on those hard chairs for hours. you put on your slippers before getting ready for school like some robot who has a routine. you go to wash yourself, brush your teeth, brush your hair and do your skincare, before putting on your uniform: button up shirt, tie, stockings, skirt and lastly your school shoes. your bag was already packed with the books for each co-ordained subject.
you put that heavy bag on you back before heading downstairs, something you're always grateful for is that your mother just loves to cook or bake. shes always making breakfast which honestly makes your life easier. your parents greet you and you greet back before placing your bag on the couch, ready to grab when you're on your way to school. you sit down at the kitchen island with your place of pancakes and apple slices, your mother and father talk amongst eachother- they are such morning people its surprising that wasnt pasted down to you.
you eat your apple slices before induling with pancake your mom had freshly made, you were in your own world until you dad speaks to you, “hey sweets, how was the match yesterday?” he ask casually “and did you go out after the match?, you came home a bit later” you meet your fathere gaze before swallowing the left over food in your mouth “-oh..sorry i forgot to text you that i was going out but yes i was with yuki and fubuki, we went to a nearby cafe-you know the one that i asked to go to?” you take a sip of your water “and the match..yeah it was fine honestly..”
your dad hums softly, leaning back slightly against the counter, arms loosely crossed.
“just fine, huh?” he says, a small smile tugging at his lips—but there’s something more observant behind it.
you pause for a second, picking at the edge of your pancake.
“yeah… it was a good game,” you add, a little more carefully this time slightly confused to what his implying.
he watches you for a moment longer than necessary.
not intense. just… noticing.
“you’ve been going to a lot of his matches lately,” he says casually, like it’s just an observation. your fingers still for a split second.
“supporting a friend isn’t a crime,” you reply, a little too quick.
he lets out a quiet chuckle.
“didn’t say it was.”
a small pause settles between you.
your mom moves around the kitchen, the soft clinking of utensils filling the space. before she glances over her shoulder to gauge your reaction.
your dad leans forward slightly now, resting his elbows on the counter.
“you know,” he starts, voice a little softer, “sometimes ‘fine’ just means you don’t feel like explaining things.”
your grip tightens slightly around your fork.
he doesn’t push further.
doesn’t ask another question.
instead, he just reaches over and taps your plate lightly.
“just make sure you’re not keeping everything up here,” he says, gently tapping his temple, “all the time.”
you glance up at him.
his expression is easy, warm—but there’s that quiet understanding sitting underneath it. the kind that makes it harder to lie. you never been the type to talk about your feelings with your parents but that doesn’t change the fact they don’t see you.
you look back down at your plate.
“…i’m not,” you murmur.
he doesn’t call you out.
just nods once.
“alright.”
but the way he says it?
he doesn’t fully believe you and you know that. your mom slides a plate a little closer to you, adding another pancake without asking.
“eat a bit more,” she says absentmindedly. “you’ll complain about being hungry later.”
you let out a small breath through your nose.
“i won’t.”
“you always say that,” she replies, not even looking at you.
a small pause.
then—
“was it crowded after the match?” she asks, tone light, like she’s just making conversation.
you shrug slightly. “a bit… we didn’t stay long though.”
she nods, finally glancing at you.
“mm.”
another pause
“you always talk about the match in full detail..” she says, tone light, almost casual.
you pause.
“…but not this one?”
it’s such a small question.
but it feels bigger than it should.
“there’s not much to say,” you shrug, keeping your eyes on your plate. “they won. that’s it.”
they both look at each other discreetly before they let out a slight ‘hm’ of acknowledgement.
you finish your pancake lost in thought and you realise you’re eating faster than usual so you can quickly get out of this awkward situation. i put your plate in the sink and say thank you to your mother and greet them both before walking to school.
you walk to school with one earphone in your ear with the other one dangling, you normally walk alone to school- you preferred it that way, it allowed you to think and feel on your own timing without having to worry that people will see through you.
you look around you and see how the sunset is rising, and how the wind is slightly blowing in a different direction making your hair flow with it. you sigh softly before closing your eyes quickly to just feel like you’re here- who are you kidding it’s another school day and the impending doom of a project was your destination, yeah, let not. after walking for 14 minutes before reaching hell on earth, a.k.a school.
you finally enter the school gates and grip your bag strap tighter. you step inside and scan the crowds for your best friends- yuki and fubuki. they’re not there.
your brows knit slightly. they’re always here this time.
where—
suddenly, a weight crashes onto your back.
you let out a strangled noise.
“what the hell—!”
you twist your head over your shoulder and there she is.
yuki.
with the biggest, most obnoxious shit-eating grin, barely holding in her laughter.
fubuki stands a few steps away, already wincing.
“yuki, don’t—“
too late.
“surpriiise!” yuki laughs, clinging onto you like this was the best idea she’s ever had.
“oh my fu— yuki, you know you shouldn’t do that to me,” you snap, trying to pry her off, “what if i actually body slammed you?!”
“you wouldn’t,” she shoots back instantly, still laughing. “you love me too much.”
you manage to shove her off—surprisingly easily since she’s too busy laughing at her own chaos.
she stumbles back, holding her stomach.
“okay—okay—worth it,” she breathes out.
you adjust your bag with a groan.
“well… good morning to you guys.”
fubuki snorts softly.
“good morning,” she says, giving you an apologetic look before glancing at yuki. “i tried to stop her.”
“no you didn’t,” yuki points at her, offended. “you hesitated.”
“because i knew you wouldn’t listen,” fubuki shrugs.
you sigh, rubbing the back of your neck.
“one day i am going to drop you, yuki. and i won’t feel bad about it.”
yuki grins again—just as smug.
“yeah, yeah. you say that every time.”
she slings an arm over your shoulder like nothing happened.
“anyway,” she adds, suddenly way too cheerful, “ready to meet your soulmate today?”
you blink.
“…what?”
fubuki winces.
“she means the project.”
“oh,” you deadpan.
a beat.
“no—wait… what do you even mean by soulmate, yuki? please, it’s so early, i can’t even—” you pinch the bridge of your nose, jaw tightening slightly. “and my neck hurts like hell because of you,” you add, glaring at her. “ohh, i’m so getting you back, yuki. watch out.”
you flick her forehead.
“ow—!” she recoils, rubbing the spot dramatically. “violence? this early in the morning? wow.”
“deserved,” fubuki mutters under her breath.
you exhale, rolling your shoulders before glancing between the two of them.
“…and speaking of ‘soulmates,’” you say, putting air quotes around the word, “are you guys excited to meet the‘soulmates’?”
yuki groans immediately, dragging her hands down her face.
“no. absolutely not. i rebuke it.”
fubuki sighs.
“i’m actually nervous,” she admits. “what if i get someone who doesn’t do anything?”
“then you suffer,” you reply flatly.
“wow, thanks for the support,” she shoots you a look.
“i’m being realistic,” you shrug.
yuki perks up suddenly, eyes narrowing slightly—like she just had a thought.
“wait…” she leans closer to you.
“what if you get someone interesting?”
you give her a blank look.
“define interesting.” she grins.
“like… someone unexpected.”
you stare at her for a second longer.
“…i don’t like the way you said that. you’re making me more uncomfortable than scared are you planning something?”
fubuki snorts.
“yeah, that sounded like foreshadowing.”
yuki just shrugs, that same mischievous smile creeping back.
“i’m just saying—today might not be as boring as you think.”
you sigh, already feeling a headache forming.
“great. can’t wait.”
the classroom feels louder than usual.
chairs scraping, voices overlapping, the low hum of students already complaining before anything’s even started.
you sit in your seat, chin resting lightly on your palm, half-listening to yuki and fubuki whispering beside you.
“i’m telling you, it’s going to be bad,” yuki mutters.
“you’re giving anxiety and you know my stomach doesn’t work well with that-“
you whisper
“stop manifesting it,” fubuki hisses back.
you don’t say anything.
your eyes drift toward the front of the class.
right on cue—the door slides open.
mr. suzuki walks in, his presence oozing controlled, precise, and hard to challenge.
and just like that, the room quiets. the quiet authority speaking volumes.
he sets his books down neatly on the desk, adjusting his glasses before scanning the class.
“good morning.”
a weak chorus of good morning, sir follows. he nods once.
“as you are all aware, we will be starting your english project today.” collective groans. he ignores them.
“this will be a paired assignment. you will be analyzing a piece of literature and presenting your interpretation to the class.”
you already don’t like where this is going.
“to ensure fairness—” he continues, tone flat, “partners will be assigned randomly.”
yuki grabs your sleeve.
“i told you,” she whispers dramatically.
you close your eyes for a second.
of course.
mr. suzuki reaches into a small box on his desk and pulls it forward.
thin wooden sticks.
names written on each.
“you will each come forward and draw one stick,” he explains. “whoever shares the same mark as you will be your partner.”
he pauses.
“no exchanges.”
yuki makes a strangled noise.
fubuki looks like she’s about to pass out.
you just stare at the sticks.
expression blank.
one by one, names are called.
students walk up, pick a stick, reactions ranging from relief to immediate regret.
your turn comes sooner than you’d like.
you stand, adjusting your uniform slightly before walking up to the front.
the box sits there.
waiting.
you reach in without hesitation, pulling out a stick.
a small marking etched at the end.
you glance at it once—
then step back.
no reaction.
of course.
you return to your seat, resting the stick against your desk.
yuki leans over immediately.
“what did you get?”
you tilt it slightly so she can see.
“…i don’t even know what that means,” she whispers.
“same.”
fubuki groans softly.
“this is actually torture.”
a few more names are called.
then—
an orange haired boys gets up.
there’s a small shuffle of movement from across the room.
you don’t look up immediately.
but you hear it.
light footsteps.
a stick being pulled.
a pause.
“…oh.”
your fingers still slightly against your desk.
something about that tone—
you glance up.
bright.
easy to spot.
he’s looking down at his stick, then around the room like he’s trying to match it.
your eyes flick down to yours.
same marking.
you blink once.
…of course.
mr. suzuki looks up.
“partners, find each other.”
there’s movement all around you.
chairs scraping again, voices picking up.
you stay seated.
watching as hinata scans the room—
until his eyes land on you.
there’s a brief moment of recognition.
then his face lights up slightly.
he walks over quickly.
“uh—hey!” he says, stopping just beside your desk, holding up his stick. “i think we’re partners.”
you glance at it.
same marking.
you nod once, rubbing the back of your neck.
“looks like it.”
he grins—easy, unfiltered.
“nice.”
you don’t miss how different that feels.
light. simple. not complicated.
you sit up a little straighter, pulling your book closer.
“guess we should start figuring out what we’re doing,” you say.
“yeah—yeah, for sure,” he nods quickly, already pulling his chair closer without hesitation.
“sorry i think this is our first time interacting..so i hope you don’t mind if i ask your name?” you ask slightly cringing at how awkward your feeling and hope he doesn’t realise the tension in yourself.
he smiles “oh!- i found about that,” he chuckles “i have seen you around though mostly at the matches?..if im not mistaken.” he thinks, scratching like the back of his head like that’s going to tell him the answer. “oh sorry- my name is shoyo hinata..and yours?” he ask and you smile softly feeling the tension in your body relax slightly. “my name is l/n y/n.”
maybe this isn’t going to be that bad after all?..it’s tolerable.
he beams at that “oh okay then! l/n you’re officially stuck with me and this project, we can do this!” he says enthusiastically
and you can’t help but chuckle softly shaking your head slightly.
no awkward pause.
no expectation that you’ll do everything.
just… natural.
your eyes flick briefly across the room—
and for a second to see who your friends are partnered with. subconsciously your eyes land on him. kei.
you don’t hold it long enough to read his expression.
you look away first.
but something about the air feels different.
because across the room—
kei’s grip tightens slightly around his own stick.
his gaze fixed.
on you.
and him.
kei :
kei leans back in his chair, his attention only half on the conversation happening in front of him.
his partner is talking—something about the project, ideas, how they should split the work—but kei just nods occasionally, giving short responses when needed. enough to seem like he’s listening.
he isn’t.
his focus keeps drifting across the room.
he didn’t mean to notice at first. it just… happened.
the moment hinata walked over to your desk, all bright and easy like he always is, kei felt something in his chest tighten slightly.
out of everyone.
he exhales quietly through his nose, resting his chin against his hand as if
nothing’s wrong.
it shouldn’t matter.
it’s just a project.
just a partner.
still—
his eyes flick up again before he can stop himself.
you’re sitting a little straighter now, your book open as you talk to hinata. your tone is calm, like always, but there’s something lighter in it. something he doesn’t hear as often.
the voices around him muffle into background noise and he strained his ears while trying to listen to the conversation between you and hinata.
“sorry… i think this is our first time interacting,” you say.
kei’s fingers pause slightly against his desk.
he watches as hinata laughs, scratching the back of his head.
“i’ve seen you around though—mostly at the matches?”
kei’s jaw tightens just a fraction.
of course he has, of course. hinata probably noticed how you were there watching matches, even came after to school to walk with kei.
he knows exactly where his eyes want to go, and he knows he shouldn’t look—but he does anyway. you’re sitting with hinata, already talking like it’s easy.
of course it is.
he looks down at his desk again, tapping his pen once before stilling it.
he shouldn’t be paying this much attention.
but he does. his attention keeps drifting, it’s irritating. he knows exactly where his eyes want to go, and he knows he shouldn’t look—but he does anyway.
his partner’s voice pulls him back for a second. he looks up, already slightly annoyed. “what?”
“i was asking if you’re okay with doing the analysis part—”
“yeah, whatever,” kei cuts in, not even letting them finish properly. his tone is sharper than usual, but he doesn’t bother correcting it.
his partner tries speaking again, something about meeting after school, but kei barely listens.
“we’ll figure it out later,” he says flatly, cutting them off before they can continue.
there’s a short silence after that, his tone making it clear the conversation is over.
kei exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair as he stares down at his desk.
this is stupid.
it’s just a project.
just a partner.
hinata’s like that with everyone—loud, friendly, easy to talk to. of course you’d respond.
so why—
his eyes lift without thinking.
you’re talking to hinata like you guys have been friends for a while despite just this is your guys first interaction.
like it’s normal.
kei’s jaw tightens. you saw his story. you were there at the match. and you didn’t say anything.
but here you are, talking with someone else(let alone his teammate) like none of it mattered.
kei looks away again, this time more deliberately, forcing his attention back to his work.
it doesn’t help.
a.n i’m flopping so bad im ah, im so scared for my biology test you don’t even want to know 🥹✌🏼 .
