The second time Nobita saw Dekisugi that week, he was holding two coffees and trying very hard not to cry.
It was Wednesday. The sky was overcast. The vending machine had eaten his card. Again.
As if on cue, Dekisugi appeared like the physical embodiment of every unfair thing in Nobita’s life—looking sleek in his long black coat, hair perfectly parted, flipping a leather-bound notebook like he was born to carry heartbreak.
Nobita squinted at him from across the hallway and cursed under his breath.
“Let me guess,” came Dekisugi’s annoyingly smooth voice. “You tried to get coffee without checking your balance again.”
Nobita jumped, nearly spilling both drinks. “How do you even—were you watching me?!”
Dekisugi arched a brow. “You’re loud. And predictable.”
“You’re smug. And condescending.”
They stood in silence for a beat. The hallway buzzed with other students, but all Nobita could focus on was how close Dekisugi was standing.
He smelled like rain and cedarwood shampoo. Unfair.
Dekisugi reached forward suddenly—too suddenly—and Nobita flinched.
But instead of insulting him, he took one of the coffee cups from Nobita’s trembling hands.
“I’ll take this. You obviously didn’t buy both for yourself.”
Nobita blinked. “I mean—technically I did, but…”
Dekisugi sipped it without waiting for permission.
And Nobita hated—hated—the way his heart fluttered.
---
They ended up walking toward the campus commons side by side. Not together, but not exactly apart, either.
Dekisugi walked like someone who knew where he was going. Nobita walked like someone who didn’t want to trip over a pebble and die of embarrassment in front of his childhood rival.
“So,” Dekisugi said casually, “you’re really majoring in Physics.”
Nobita bristled. “Yeah, why?”
“I expected something more… artistic.”
“Why? Because I suck at math?”
“No,” Dekisugi said, eyes flicking to him. “Because you always had a way of seeing things differently. It’s a compliment.”
Nobita’s brain short-circuited.
“Are you—are you being nice to me?”
Dekisugi smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”
---
They sat near a cherry blossom tree, mostly out of habit from middle school days. Nobita watched as Dekisugi typed effortlessly on a tablet, legs crossed, brows furrowed in concentration.
“You look like a model,” Nobita blurted, immediately regretting it.
Dekisugi paused. Looked at him. Slowly, a smile curled at his lips.
“You think I’m good-looking?”
“I didn’t say that—! I mean—objectively—like, for someone who’s into that kind of—ugh, never mind.”
Dekisugi chuckled. It was quiet, almost warm.
“You haven’t changed much,” he said. “Still flustered. Still dramatic.”
“Yeah?” Nobita shot back. “Well, you have changed. You’re taller. Ruder. Even more full of yourself.”
But his voice cracked at the end.
Dekisugi looked at him then—really looked at him. His expression softened. “You’re not as weak as you think, Nobita.”
That name. That voice. It made Nobita feel fourteen again.
Vulnerable. Seen.
---
Later that day, disaster struck—again—during their shared elective class.
Group presentation. Last minute partner shuffle. Professor's words: "Nobita and Dekisugi, you're paired together."
Dekisugi didn’t react.
Nobita wanted to melt into the floor.
The moment the class ended, Nobita bolted out, papers fluttering. Dekisugi caught up in three strides.
“You’re avoiding me,” he said.
“Observation skills on point, Sherlock.”
“Nobita.”
The way Dekisugi said his name was unfair. Like a promise. Like something he'd say in a dream.
Nobita turned around too fast, colliding with Dekisugi's chest.
His glasses slipped. Dekisugi’s hand shot out and caught them.
His fingers brushed against Nobita’s cheek. Too soft. Too long.
Neither of them moved.
"You okay?" Dekisugi asked, voice oddly gentle.
Nobita nodded. Couldn’t speak.
Dekisugi fixed his glasses for him. The touch lingered.
"You're still bad at taking care of yourself," he murmured. "Let me help."
Nobita’s throat tightened. “Why now?”
Dekisugi’s eyes were unreadable.
“Maybe because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care.”
And just like that, he walked away—leaving Nobita with two racing heartbeats, an untouched coffee cup, and no clue what the hell just happened.
---
To be continued...
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