What If

He was walking her home that day, having kept her back late in school to finish up admin matters for the upcoming school festival. He notices her quiet yawn, and the way she was rubbing at her eyes. He sighs, having rather much had someone else do this job.

She hears his sigh and wonders if she has troubled him - her house is a good thirty minutes away from school. She had eagerly volunteered to be part of the organizing comittee when she heard that he was going to be this year's teacher-in-charge, but hadn't expected to be elected as the chairman - all thanks to Yoshioka and Yuuri's nomination. She's definitely not regretting it though, and decides to treasure this little moment she has with him. She takes in a deep breath, and lets her eyes wander onto the man walking beside her.

She's sixteen, and she thinks that love is a beautiful thing. That love is something precious, something sacred, and something that is so much more than age, race or gender. So much more.

So when she fell in love, the world suddenly became brighter, all sparkling as crystal, and so much more - meaningful. She fell helplessly, irrevocably in love.

In her eyes, he is perfect.

His eyes, wandering too, meet hers then, and then dart away quickly. Perhaps trying to cover up his embarrassment, he pretends to cough and turns away.

He is twenty-two, and he knows that this world is pragmatic. That the world does not forgive easily, and that a small mistake can lead to the crumbling down of things he's worked hard to build.

So when he fell in love, the world suddenly became an scary, uncertain place. He loves, but he is afraid, afraid of what is to come, and what this love will bring.

In his eyes, she is precious.

"Sensei, it's okay if you just walk me till here, you know. It's getting late and I'm sure you must be tired too." She says, still not really daring to meet his eyes again.

But he smiles at her, his very own kind of smile that reaches right up to his eyes, and shakes his head wordlessly.

She thinks of him as her Sun, in a way, brightening her day and radiating warmth (this, she can feel both in her heart and rising up to her face, when he so subtly moves closer towards her. protectively).. And yet at times he becomes the rain - the way he tries as much as possible to keep his distance from her and keep their relationship "strictly professional". The way he pushes her away. But what if-

She shivers a little then, the chilly weather catching up to her. It was end-Autumn, getting close to winter, and Japanese uniforms weren't exactly well-known for keeping high-school girls warm. She was never too good against the cold, and mentally chides herself for leaving her jacket behind in the classroom.

He feels the cold too, and then suddenly thinks of how the girl beside him had jokingly told his younger brother in a conversation he had so happened to be there for that she could never stand winter. In the next moment, he stops, taking off his scarf and moving closer, closer, closer to her. Wrapping his fluffy wool scarf around her. "Don't catch a cold. I'll be worried if you do." They continue to walk.

She tries to look unaffected, but really, she was sure that her thumping heart could be heard from miles away. The scarf smelled like him, of his unique scent. He was sly like that, her sensei, always being hot one moment and cold the other. Keeping himself distant and then suddenly doing these little things that give her hope. She hides her hands in the scarf too, then, as if touching the scarf could feel anything like touching him. And again, what if- passes through her mind, and she sighs into the cold night.

He, of course, notices this and misunderstands her actions then, because he frowns, and then takes her hands into his. "You're freezing." He notes, and then brings them up near his face and exhales on them. The warning that enters his mind right after he does so is something he wishes he could ignore. Too close, it says, too intimate. And only a moment later, he lets go of the very hands he wishes he could hold on to. "Sorry." A mutter, then silence.

The warmth she felt on her hands, she thinks, cannot compare to that of which is still lingering in her chest. And she starts trembling, subtly, quietly, because this is nearly too much for her to bear. She's been through this before, the way he acts like she's something important to him. She knows that he will pretend that none of this happened the next day at school, and that if she asks, he will ask her to forget it. Because after all, he is her teacher, and she is his student. Nothing less, nothing more.

He gets a distinct pang in his heart when he sees her face falling from the corners of his eyes, and when she starts shivering. She has really never been good against the cold. "Are you really that cold? Ah, I'll give you my jacket too, although it may be a bit big on yo-"

"Sensei." She raises a hand to stop him and looks down away from his gaze then. "Please stop." Her voice is shaky, and she has to put all her might into keeping herself from crying.

"What's the matter?" He is genuinely worried now, moving closer towards her and brushing her hair away to get a clearer look at her expression. But what he sees there is heartbreaking, and he knows that he is the one who put it there.

"You-" She takes a deep breath then, steadying her voice, "are always like this. You're cruel, sensei, bringing my hopes up only to let them fall again. Even though you know how I feel about you, even though I've told you over and over again."

And he lets his hands fall to his sides, defeated. He can't find the right words to say. He is her teacher, he is her friend, he is her confidante - he is all, and he is none. He wants so badly to reach out to her, to embrace her and tell her what he really thinks, but what would that do, what would that achieve, what would that spell for their future? "I- Murao, you know that I cannot-"

"Sensei, about you, about us... I'm really serious about it, you know?" Her tears are falling now, overflowing like her feelings are.

He has never hated himself as much as he does now. She's crying because of him and he knows it, he knows it and yet he still can't bring himself to do what his heart is screaming for him to do. And if only, if only...

"What if you weren't a teacher, sensei? Would this work then? What if there's a day that comes that we are no longer-" There have been times - so many times - when the thought what if has passed through her mind. What if he wasn't my sensei, what if I wasn't a student in this school, what if... She hiccups, her breathing becoming haphazard now, "student and teacher. Would you be able to love me then? Would you be able to even just look at me as a girl, as a girl that really likes you-"

"I do. Trust me, Murao., I do. You don't know how much I would give to just drop everything now and hug you and I-"

There. He said it. He was a fool, for letting it slip but he said it. It was all out in the open now. Was it strange if he said he didn't regret it? If he didn't regret just giving in just once, to make up for the many what ifs that continue to plague his thoughts.

"Then do it." She stepped closer, braver now, fueled by her burning emotions. Standing with her forehead so close to touching his chin, she whispered. "Kiss me."

And so he did. He let himself fall, fall into the depthless bottom of his own feelings. And as his lips met hers, he knew that there was no turning back. After so long- so long, of hidden thoughts and masked feelings, of stolen glances and a million what ifs, it had all come bursting out. Her hands travelled to his chest, gripping onto his jacket, still half off his shoulder from just now, as if wanting to keep him there forever. He let his hands travel around her slim waist to end in a tight knot in her back. Two people - more than anything, just two people in love, lips fervently searching for more, more, more of one another, holding onto something intangible and indescribable.

So when they pass by one another in the hallways, she waves and he nods and smiles. It's as simple as that. He calls her to answer his questions in class, and she goes to find him in the staffroom to discuss the updates on the school festival.

And afterwards, he walks her home. You could say that nothing much has changed, perhaps. Maybe you'll notice subtle things like his scarf wrapped around her, or their hands, laced together, hidden in the dark of the night. Maybe you'll notice the necklace around her neck, usually well-kept beneath her collar, branded with a Y for Youichi, or maybe you'll notice the way the small smiles never leave their faces.

She's sixteen, and she thinks that love is a beautiful thing. And there it is, right in front of her, right in her hands, right in these little moments.

He's twenty-two, and he knows that this world is pragmatic. But he is willing to try, and he is willing to find a way to make a love like this work, for himself, for her, for them.

Their story is not one of romantic dates, dramatic confessions and envious looks from classmates or co-workers.

Their story is one of stolen glances, of little notes dropped onto tables, of small kisses on foreheads, sparked by a million what ifs.

But it is their story.

It is their love.

-end.

a/n: Hello there! This is my first aoharuride story, and I really cannot say how thankful I am to Sakisaka Io-san for writing this beautiful story. What I really like about aoharuride is that the relationships depicted in the manga, whether it be Futaba and Kou's, or even Shuuko's and Tanaka-sensei's, are so real. I hope I managed to capture that here. No doubt Futaba and Kou are a lovely couple (I ship them real hard too), but I do think that relationships between the side characters need more love too, especially these two. Relationships that continue to prove to the world that really, love is not limited by any silly thing like age, or gender, or social status. Love is a much simpler, much purer thing than that. Love is just, love.