Eye Contact
Title: Eye contact
Pairing: Nino/Ohno
Genre: fluff/Romance/Slice of life
Summary: Nino is a high school teacher and one student caught his attention as they made eye contact
Notes: This is written in Nino's POV and present tense. This is me trying to get myself back to creative writing once again..
I have always had a certain fascination with people-watching. It would be nice if one can earn money through it but sadly, the world we live in is not that generous. I have chosen teaching as a profession, and my uncanny ability in observing people and picking up cues has been put to use. My favorite moments are during examination season when I just sit down and do nothing, or rather watch each and every one of my students battling the exam questions. The furrowing of eyebrows, the blank stares out the window as if the answer lies somewhere in the courtyard, the frantic drumming of pencil tips against the wood of the desk, the annoyance of a seatmate at such a sound ruining his concentration, the calm demeanor of front-row students, the distinct curl-up of lips at a ridiculous bonus question, a smirk, a sigh, a cry of anguish when time is almost up - an array of emotions for me to feast on.
Unfortunately it's not examination season yet, but rather the first day of classes. I believe my colleagues view me as a cool, easy-going guy who can get along with just about anybody. I try to be. I try hard to be. In reality, putting up such a facade can be quite tricky, the trickiest of which is the first day of classes, in my opinion. High school students can be utterly unforgiving and judgmental with their snide comments and endless gossips. A teacher needs to look presentable, needs to find a balance between being meddlesome and lenient, needs to be approachable and respectable at the same time. I even had my friend and co-teacher Sho-kun coordinate an outfit for me last year. Let's just say that that didn't turn out as right as I wanted it to be. This time I have decided to keep it simple: a plain white shirt, navy blue blazer and pants, with the best pair of polished shoes I had in my closet.
The class is English literature. I have been teaching it for seven years now, yet I don't grow tired of it. The fresh insights of teenagers regarding certain literary pieces can be really interesting. Looking forward to these discussions makes me feel young again, although there are times when I am still mistaken as a student instead of a teacher because of my youthful glow. It can be quite a boon or a bane. A student has mistaken me for a classmate a handful of times so far.
And now here I am, standing outside of the door of the classroom, mentally preparing myself for the year to come. As I enter, everyone stood up as per protocol. I make a quick sweep around the room. A survey of everyone's faces reveals an interesting array of emotions: excitement, nervousness, boredom, nonchalance, and of course, swooning at the sight of my good looks with sparkles in their eyes.
I start my class with a poem by Pablo Neruda. Romance has always been a topic that can keep the majority of a teenager crowd interested, an ingenious way to break the ice and get everyone to loosen up. Hands are raised. Opinions are shared. The class is interactive just the way I have hoped it to be.
Suddenly and all at once, my eyes fall on a corner of the room and found a pair of eyes that made my heart race and my chest constrict for a moment. I haven't met him before yet I feel somewhat naked before him, figuratively of course. His gaze is not intense yet I feel as if he can see through my soul. He has a pair of chubby cheeks and chocolate color hair, without the usual aura of a high school student but rather a man of my generation who has gained wisdom with the passing of the years.
I divert my gaze at once. The apprehension that this human being can break down my walls is like a bucket of cold water dumped on me giving me shivers. I keep the discussion running, careful to avoid that certain corner of the room. I can feel his gaze maintained on me, which is expected of course, given that he is a student in my class. Or is he really? He can be an old man masquerading as a high school student for God knows what reason. A spy perhaps? A spy trying to blend with the students while investigating whatever it is he is investigating. It was a kind of disturbance different from horror movies with characters that give the creeps. It feels real at that moment, like once-in-a-million-years real. I may be teaching Japanese literature for a long time, tackling genres such as romance, but this is the first time that I realize what the climactic moment in a life of a protagonist vividly and colorfully described in books actually feels like. I may be exaggerating like I sometimes do. Perhaps I am but I cannot deny the fact that I have memorized his face after our less than a second eye contact. And those eyes have already made a distinct imprint in my mind - a truth that is quite unsettling. I struggle to lock these thoughts to a little corner at the back of my mind as I focus back on the current discussion which I am supposed to facilitate. I glance at my watch; five minutes until I am liberated from the spell he has unknowingly casted upon me. I try to hide my smile as a student shares her opinion regarding Pablo Neruda's biography, making it seem like I am impressed by her knowledge when in fact I am mulling ideas in my head.
Will I really be liberated from his spell by the time this class ends?
The bell rings, the students with a groan because my awesome class has come to an end, but of course that is just me getting ahead of myself, and me with a little victory dance in my head. The little twitching in my chest and the persistent thought in my mind regarding a certain person, almost like a paranoia, will finally come to an end.
The students start to scramble out, their bags on tow, their voices being drowned out by my single-minded determination to pack up my materials and dash out in record time.
In the middle of everything, I hear an unfamiliar voice that was able to pierce through my focus with ease. It was soft and friendly, a mixture of seriousness and playfulness if there was such a thing.
"Sensei," he said.
I looked up and found the same pair of eyes I have been trying to avoid. And in that moment, everything happens all over again. The class has ended but my intuition is right. I am not liberated from your spell. It has just begun.
Pairing: Nino/Ohno
Genre: fluff/Romance/Slice of life
Summary: Nino is a high school teacher and one student caught his attention as they made eye contact
Notes: This is written in Nino's POV and present tense. This is me trying to get myself back to creative writing once again..
I have always had a certain fascination with people-watching. It would be nice if one can earn money through it but sadly, the world we live in is not that generous. I have chosen teaching as a profession, and my uncanny ability in observing people and picking up cues has been put to use. My favorite moments are during examination season when I just sit down and do nothing, or rather watch each and every one of my students battling the exam questions. The furrowing of eyebrows, the blank stares out the window as if the answer lies somewhere in the courtyard, the frantic drumming of pencil tips against the wood of the desk, the annoyance of a seatmate at such a sound ruining his concentration, the calm demeanor of front-row students, the distinct curl-up of lips at a ridiculous bonus question, a smirk, a sigh, a cry of anguish when time is almost up - an array of emotions for me to feast on.
Unfortunately it's not examination season yet, but rather the first day of classes. I believe my colleagues view me as a cool, easy-going guy who can get along with just about anybody. I try to be. I try hard to be. In reality, putting up such a facade can be quite tricky, the trickiest of which is the first day of classes, in my opinion. High school students can be utterly unforgiving and judgmental with their snide comments and endless gossips. A teacher needs to look presentable, needs to find a balance between being meddlesome and lenient, needs to be approachable and respectable at the same time. I even had my friend and co-teacher Sho-kun coordinate an outfit for me last year. Let's just say that that didn't turn out as right as I wanted it to be. This time I have decided to keep it simple: a plain white shirt, navy blue blazer and pants, with the best pair of polished shoes I had in my closet.
The class is English literature. I have been teaching it for seven years now, yet I don't grow tired of it. The fresh insights of teenagers regarding certain literary pieces can be really interesting. Looking forward to these discussions makes me feel young again, although there are times when I am still mistaken as a student instead of a teacher because of my youthful glow. It can be quite a boon or a bane. A student has mistaken me for a classmate a handful of times so far.
And now here I am, standing outside of the door of the classroom, mentally preparing myself for the year to come. As I enter, everyone stood up as per protocol. I make a quick sweep around the room. A survey of everyone's faces reveals an interesting array of emotions: excitement, nervousness, boredom, nonchalance, and of course, swooning at the sight of my good looks with sparkles in their eyes.
I start my class with a poem by Pablo Neruda. Romance has always been a topic that can keep the majority of a teenager crowd interested, an ingenious way to break the ice and get everyone to loosen up. Hands are raised. Opinions are shared. The class is interactive just the way I have hoped it to be.
Suddenly and all at once, my eyes fall on a corner of the room and found a pair of eyes that made my heart race and my chest constrict for a moment. I haven't met him before yet I feel somewhat naked before him, figuratively of course. His gaze is not intense yet I feel as if he can see through my soul. He has a pair of chubby cheeks and chocolate color hair, without the usual aura of a high school student but rather a man of my generation who has gained wisdom with the passing of the years.
I divert my gaze at once. The apprehension that this human being can break down my walls is like a bucket of cold water dumped on me giving me shivers. I keep the discussion running, careful to avoid that certain corner of the room. I can feel his gaze maintained on me, which is expected of course, given that he is a student in my class. Or is he really? He can be an old man masquerading as a high school student for God knows what reason. A spy perhaps? A spy trying to blend with the students while investigating whatever it is he is investigating. It was a kind of disturbance different from horror movies with characters that give the creeps. It feels real at that moment, like once-in-a-million-years real. I may be teaching Japanese literature for a long time, tackling genres such as romance, but this is the first time that I realize what the climactic moment in a life of a protagonist vividly and colorfully described in books actually feels like. I may be exaggerating like I sometimes do. Perhaps I am but I cannot deny the fact that I have memorized his face after our less than a second eye contact. And those eyes have already made a distinct imprint in my mind - a truth that is quite unsettling. I struggle to lock these thoughts to a little corner at the back of my mind as I focus back on the current discussion which I am supposed to facilitate. I glance at my watch; five minutes until I am liberated from the spell he has unknowingly casted upon me. I try to hide my smile as a student shares her opinion regarding Pablo Neruda's biography, making it seem like I am impressed by her knowledge when in fact I am mulling ideas in my head.
Will I really be liberated from his spell by the time this class ends?
The bell rings, the students with a groan because my awesome class has come to an end, but of course that is just me getting ahead of myself, and me with a little victory dance in my head. The little twitching in my chest and the persistent thought in my mind regarding a certain person, almost like a paranoia, will finally come to an end.
The students start to scramble out, their bags on tow, their voices being drowned out by my single-minded determination to pack up my materials and dash out in record time.
In the middle of everything, I hear an unfamiliar voice that was able to pierce through my focus with ease. It was soft and friendly, a mixture of seriousness and playfulness if there was such a thing.
"Sensei," he said.
I looked up and found the same pair of eyes I have been trying to avoid. And in that moment, everything happens all over again. The class has ended but my intuition is right. I am not liberated from your spell. It has just begun.