Synopsis: You developed an awkward relationship with Satoru. All conversations were about you needing assistance with homework — but all of that had given him more of a chance to build a connection with you.
A/N: This is a continuation of a JJK AU that was supposed to be exclusively for my friend, but I was too lazy to screenshot conversations and twitter posts. By the way, ‘Misaki’ is NOT a character from JJK. Also, I did NOT proofread :)
You stepped into the classroom. Papers filled with drawings of clothing designs covered the entire board as garments hung on the mannequins. The place that before looked like an empty classroom for Plato had turned quintessentially aesthetic.
“What took you so long? It’s difficult to guess your size.” Nobara commented, knees covered with colored chalk as glitter had seemingly become an accessory of hers.
“If you’d become the model, you wouldn’t be complaining.” You rebutted — displaying a glimpse of remorse for being a tad bit rude and insensitive. Albeit, it wasn’t your fault that you were forced into giving up your dignity for a role you weren’t comfortable playing.
“Sorry.” Despite her apology, Nobara showed not an ounce of guilt.
“Come here, I’ll take your measurements.” Satoru stepped closer — only a few inches left and you could feel his breath brush against your skin.
“Wait, I thought Misaki was going to… do this?”
“She’s preoccupied.” You glanced at Misaki. With a cellphone in hand and directing the others on what to do with the fabric — you had nothing to say. But Nobara was there, on her phone.
“She might be well-fashioned, but Nobara is not fit to do the job.” He pulled out the measuring tape from his pocket. At first, you were unsure if giving a man consent to measure you was forgiving — but the gentler he was, the more you entrusted Satoru. began to measure your body from the bottom, to the hips, and your chest.
You finally escaped from the moment of awkwardness. The silence of Nobara — obviously trying to concentrate — gave you more time to process what Satoru was doing to you than you needed.
From what you’ve observed, Misaki was more inclined to lead the rest of the class, while Nobara continued to make additional changes to the costume designs. What was left for you to discern was Satoru’s unconditional discipline and passion for the project — which was probably not even worth half your grade.
“What couldn’t you tell me you were already working with them?” You suddenly spoke.
Nobara looked up at you with a rather exasperated expression. “It’s a group project, idiot. Be thankful that all you have to do is advertise our work and speak your mind.”
“You’re going onstage and will be speaking for Plato and Confucius. Exciting!” She beamed, but you were feeling the exact opposite. Yes, Satoru, Misaki, and Nobara could turn into the most prolific amateur designers but you knew that you could not bring yourself to walk down a red path and speak for the rest.
“No, that can’t be right.”
“You signed up for this. Forced, maybe.” Nobara shrugged. You thought that maybe you would merely pose and take a few pictures to submit via email. Perhaps you really didn’t think this through — but modeling in front of a huge crowd scared you… a little?
“You can’t be serious. You thought that we would make these costumes just for you to pose for a little while and take it off?” She scoffed, a little too hard. She thought you were naive — but not that naive.
“Just exude confidence, you’ll be fine.” Nobara added.
“Fuck yes!” Yuuji walked in the classroom with a bright, wide smile plastered all over his smug face. He leaned towards your shoulder to witness one of Nobara’s works.
“What are you doing here?” You lightly pushed Yuuji’s face away from you. Instead of letting go of the close proximity between the two of you — he sat close next to you.
“I’m here to contribute.” Yuuji replied and took a piece of chalk from the box. “You’re just here to model, aren’t you?”
You couldn’t deny it. You had less contribution — only needing to put on the clothes, while the rest worked on the clothes. Including Satoru, insisting that he work on the script as well.
“I admit that I’m a little useless, but I am needed! And that’s all I need to know.” You shoved Yuuji and sat a little closer to Nobara instead.
You felt something brush against your back. The heavy tension between you and the air intensified when Nobara and Yuuji looked at each other at the same time. You looked behind and slowly averted your gaze upwards as you witnessed Satoru’s serious gaze.
“Let’s see if the clothes fit you.” He said shortly before he went to Misaki that stood with the mannequins. Most of them already had half-finished costumes. You could’ve sworn that they’ve only begun this project a few weeks ago.
“How are you already…” You stood from your position and began to analyze every costume created. Each had their own personality — meaning that you had to at least match the energy that the costumes exude to embody a character that you knew would have no correlation to your own.
“We work fast.” Satoru replied. You glanced at him, his eyes showed a glint of proudness. But then you noticed that Misaki showed the same expression — both having a sense of passion and pride for their works, making them a great match.
You put on a petticoat with the help of Nobara. Satoru detached the gown from the mannequin and gently helped you get in it. The gown made you glow in a way that Satoru couldn’t discern. Misaki gestured for you to spin. And so you did. The dress helped you display a glamorous yet serene demeanor. And there goes Satoru, from a creative mind to simply a defunct artist.
“This is just the first gown and yet… you’ve captured my heart.” Misaki commented as she stepped closer to rectify your hair.
“Haha… you’re glazing me.” You release an awkward small laugh.
“You’re too humble.” Nobara hopped in as she fixated on your hair and stared at your face for as long as she could.
“What kind of makeup should we do?”
“Classy.” Satoru’s focused expression faded into a relaxed smile.
“What? Is she going to Prom?” Yuuji laughed. Satoru merely shook his head and lifted his glasses.
“Even with eyes as blurry as mine, you can clearly see how gorgeous she would look with a classy makeup style.” Satoru added.
The whole classroom faded into silence — leaving Satoru with nothing but a lightly flushed face. The awkwardness of each person led him to process more of the situation and how he could’ve worded it differently, less cheesy even.
“Thanks.” You showed a thumbs up. You tried to maintain your composure, but the compliment caught you slightly off-guard.
“Enough of this tomfoolery, I’m starving…” Yuuji spoke, to end the hopeless exchange of silence and awkward laughter.
“You’d just arrived! What do you mean you’re starving?” Nobara was near to crashing out. Compared to her, Yuuji looked so much cleaner and unscathed. As for Nobara, she needed a break.
“OK! Let’s all grab a snack?” Misaki and the rest of the class left only you and Satoru in the classroom. As you tried not to make a sound, you basically looked around the whole classroom and had forgotten that you were still in the dress.
“Are you not itching?” Satoru spoke out of the blue — cancelling your inner peace.
Satoru closed the distance between the two of you and carefully took both sides of the dress to cinch around your waist. “You were almost Misaki’s size.”
He marked the adjustments with pins and slowly took the gown off for you. “You’re not uncomfortable with me doing this, are you?”
“I was worried that you might feel awkward with me being close to you.”
“I understand the need to measure and to try on the gown— but that doesn’t cancel out the awkwardness.”
Satoru hummed softly like he was satisfied with your answer. Maybe working with him isn’t that bad. If he hadn’t reached out first, you wouldn’t be talking this much.
“Wait, why did you have to insist that I should model? We have Kirara and Yuki.”
“If you had to compare yourself to them — I would just have to say that beauty is subjective.” Satoru left you with a vague response. Simple, he decided to merely change the topic and move on with his day.
“About what you’re going to say, I have a few suggestions.”
You spent a few minutes — maybe even half an hour — with Satoru. You were sitting next to each other in the corner of the room, parallel to the door. Both of you were glued to a piece of paper. You glanced at Satoru’s paper — already filled to the brim. He had a roster of potential dialogue for the script, while you had a blank sheet in front of you.
“You’re confining your creativity.”
“What?” You turned to your side. Satoru had a mix of concern and frustration on his face. You get that he had a cordial personality, but he didn’t have to be so philosophical all the time.
“It’s fine, I can work on this alone.”
“And have Misaki help you again? No.” You immediately replied. He paused in his tracks — eyebrows slightly raised as his eyes hinted at a perplexed expression. You were stuck in a perpetual state, every time you tried to normally converse with Satoru, he always had a way to make things so gauche.
“I don’t need her for this.”
“And I’m perfectly capable of helping you.”
Again, he faced you. His eyes exhibited a genuine sense of concern. Satoru became someone who could easily elicit sympathy — just from the look on his face.
“I don’t want you to know me as someone who’s always asking for help.” You recalled previous events and how you interacted with Satoru before. Your online conversations would always be you asking for help, and yet, you’d done nothing in return so far.
Satoru beckoned — both of you went utterly silent as most of the class returned to the classroom. The room was no longer quiet. He flipped the sheet of paper to write on the back side. With nothing but a simple nod as a response, you decided to write anything on yours to compensate for your lack of contribution.
“I didn’t mean to demoralize your confidence. I just wish you knew how to value yourself.” Satoru stood from his seat and looked back at you. A small smile formed on his face as he walked away and towards Misaki.
You realized that ever since Satoru came in contact with Misaki, you’ve been so hung up on yourself — demoralizing your own well-being and having a tenuous soul in general. You haven’t reached the acme of your capabilities.
I’m going to work on the script.
Without a minute passing by, you’ve already received a reply.
The fashion week began today, Monday at noon. You had the morning to yourself — you mentally prepared yourself for the stage. The objective wasn’t to compete against the other classes, but to display and express your class’s creativity and capabilities. Plato and Confucius relied on you to exhibit the beauty of each dress as much as you can.
You already had your makeup on and all you had to do was put on the first gown. Being backstage was nerve wracking — you could assume that all eyes would be on you, and the dress. As soon as you put on the first costume, you feel a different version of yourself arise — one with more layers of confidence, meticulously crafted.
“Let’s just wait for Toru.” Misaki said while she carefully adjusted the gown.
You had completely forgotten about Satoru — you were a bit intimidated by him, especially since the last conversation you had with him was learning about how to compose yourself.
While busy staring at yourself in the mirror, Satoru arrived backstage — flowers in hand. You watched his reflection as he walked towards you before slowly turning around to take a better look at him.
“What the hell are these for?”
Satoru handed you the flowers, you took a whiff. Personally, you didn’t like the smell of flowers that much but you couldn’t complain.
౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ dividers ; credits to: @andromeda-graphics @pixopix @chateaubarnes ⊹ ࣪. ᵎᵎ
౨ৎ٠ ࣪⭑ art ; credits to: su2kuna on x