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hyugaruma · 6 months

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Prom - (Murayama x Reader)

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re: prom becomes a little more interesting when someone shows up…

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You sat at the round table watching as people slow danced around the auditorium. The lights were dim and various strobe lights flickered the walls and floors. Your feet ached, not used to the high heels you wore on your feet, and you were sure you felt blisters already beginning to form on your heels. A slow song droned, couples swaying to the mellow beat in each others’ arms. Your friends, if you could even call them that, had abandoned you only shortly after arriving to the prom, even though they had been the ones to convince you to go. Internally cursing them, you pulled your phone out from your clutch and started mindlessly scrolling on social media in hopes that it would make the time go faster. It was better than staying at home on a Friday night and doing nothing, you guessed. You looked up from your phone to glance around the room in search of your friends, catching a couple making out at a table a few seats away. You grimaced. Maybe staying home wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.

You sighed, tucking your phone away, tempted to resign yourself to the bathroom for the remainder of the night. Just as you were contemplating a change of scenery, you noticed a person plop dramatically into the seat beside you. From the corner of your eye you recognized him: Murayama Yoshiki. He had been in your home room class since your first year of high school. While you had never spoken to him, you had noticed him mature a lot from the lackluster student he used to be, previously having a penchant for missing classes and flunking tests, but notably more considerate about his future within the last year. Murayama had his black tux jacket fully unbuttoned to reveal a wrinkly white button-up underneath. And of course, his signature bandana secured tightly around his head, because even an event like the prom couldn’t have convinced him to remove it.

Murayama buried the fingers of one of his hands deep into his messy locks, scratching harshly at his scalp as if to distract himself but only managing to fuel his apparent annoyance. Annoyance at what, you were unsure. Maybe at the way his jacket sleeves rode slightly up his wrists, tux seemingly almost a size too small, or possibly at the sway of bodies in dance slowly encroaching on your sanctioned space at the tables. Whatever it was, you could tell by the way his lip twitched into a half-grimace that he was not happy with the way the night was going. It seemed he had yet to even notice you as you continued to study him, the subtle black smudge under his eyes (you wondered if he was wearing eyeliner), the way the corner of his lips seemed to tug upwards in a smirk laden with irritation, his poorly tied bow tie that showed he had been continuously loosening it more and more throughout the night, the way his slender fingers fiddled with a loose string coming from the inner cuff of his shirt sleeve…

“You good?”

You snapped out of your concentration with a start, eyes flashing up to meet with Murayama’s own mischievous ones, crinkled at the corners with the cheeky grin he was sending your way. You could tell he totally thought he just caught you checking him out. You definitely weren’t, right? “Sorry,” you mumbled, looking away to avoid his gaze by pretending to be interested in the way the couples danced at the center of the gym. “I guess I was just zoning out.”

Murayama took a second to contemplate, allowing his eyes to wander down your deep neckline. A breath of a chuckle escaped him, drawing your attention back his way.

“Something funny?” You asked, knitting your eyebrows together defensively.

“Not at all,” he shook his head, feigning an innocent expression that you knew better than to trust, eyes wandering away from you for only a split second before finding yours again, a bright smile alighting his features. “Just never seen you so dressed up before is all.”

You huffed. “I could say the same to you.”

Murayama scoffed and rolled his eyes, seemingly feeling the same way about the whole situation as you. “And you never will again,” he retorted, stuffing his hands into his pockets and extending his legs to lean back in his chair, clearly not too concerned with the possibility of accidentally tripping a passerby. “Shit’s lame.”

You laughed, and his eyes widened. “Can’t argue with you on that one,” you said, mimicking his own gesture to lean slightly back into your chair, minus the feet propped out for an accident waiting to happen. “I would’ve never come here on my own free will, trust me.”

Murayama seemed to eye you suspiciously. “No date?”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “No, just some friends who are convinced I need to get out of the house more.”

“Friends who left you by yourself,” he added.

“Bingo.” You sighed. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, the subtle dip of Murayama’s eyes at the movement not going unnoticed by you. You nearly scoffed but somehow managed to bite it back, not wanting to sour the only bit of company you’d had for the night. “What’re you doing here? I didn’t really take you for the prom type.”

He didn’t bother to hold back his own scoff. “Kotaro begged me to come along. He’s a romantic or something, I don’t know.” Murayama paused before the mischievous smile found its way back to his face. “What type did you take me for?”

“Huh?”

“You said you didn’t take me for the prom type,” he said. “So, you’ve got some idea of me in mind, and I wanna know what it is.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly feeling a bit warm under the heat of his expectant gaze. You felt your neck flush slightly in embarrassment, his words having some kind of unexpected effect on you. What were you getting so shy for all of a sudden? “I don’t know,” you shot, perhaps a bit harsher than you meant it to come out, but by the way his smile only grew it seemed to only fuel his desire for an answer.

“So you think something of me.”

“I don’t know. No!” You shook your head. “I just mean that I wouldn’t have expected you to be here, that’s all. It’s not like I don’t know you. You do know we’ve been in the same home room since first year, right?”

His smile dropped, replaced by something considerably unreadable. “Oh, I know.” The earnest expression he sent your way tripled your heart rate. You were sure all the blood had rushed to your face in that moment.

You cleared your throat, suddenly feeling parched and wishing nothing more than to have had a cold glass of water in front of you. Perhaps it could have cooled you off, even if just a bit. Although you highly doubted it with the way Murayama was boring into you, waiting for your response to his very bold one. You decided to play stupid. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Murayama then dropped his hand onto the table and leaned forward, really leaned forward, invading whatever bubble of space you had previously created. You would have leaned back if not for the back of your chair preventing you from doing so. He eyed you as if he were trying to read you, trying to dig at some sort of motive of yours. His eyebrows furrowed, and he looked pensive (at least, as pensive as Murayama could look). You chewed at the inside of your cheek and cast your gaze to the side, anywhere besides his intense eyes. He leaned in closer, scrutinized, until—

His face brightened. “You must think I’m cute.”

“What!?” You barked, nearly doubling back in your chair.

Murayama leaned back once more, clearly satisfied with the clever deduction he had made. You wanted to grab him by the bow tie and strangle that smug look off his face. Except, for some reason, you could feel your cheeks growing exceptionally hot. That wasn’t it, right?

“That’s why you notice me, right?” Murayama stretched his arms behind his head, overly nonchalant over his absurd accusations. “And have ideas about me.”

You snorted and crossed your arms over your chest in indignation. Though, your face was still really, really hot. “You’re so full of yourself.” You still couldn’t bare to look him in the face, instead casting your gaze out at the sea of couples in harmonious dance. It almost made you feel sick.

“No, really. I mean, I’ve always thought you were pretty cute myself.”

Had you been drinking something, this would have been your moment for a spit-take. You spluttered, head snapping in his direction, eyes wide in disbelief. Surely you had misheard him, right? But the pleased look on his face told you that you had heard him correctly. Murayama thought you were cute? You internally chastised yourself for getting excited over the revelation. So he thought you were cute, that was no big deal—

“Wanna ditch this and find something else to do?”

“Huh?” You responded dumbly. Your brain was still working to figure the whole scene of events out.

It was Murayama’s turn to roll his eyes. He lazily hoisted himself up from the plastic chair, legs screeching in protest as they scraped the wooden flooring, and held his hand out towards you. You stared at it, unsure what to make of his gesture. Unsure what to make of any of what was going on. “I’m asking if you wanna get out of here,” he reiterated, glancing at his own outstretched hand. “Like, you and I can go do something else?”

“Like, you mean…?” You ventured. For the first time, you noticed the tip of Murayama’s ears, nearly hidden by his mess of hair, tinted a bright pink color. Oh, you realized with a small, curious smile. He was nervous.

“Like,” he grumbled, clearly none too happy about you forcing him to spell it out. Served him right for teasing you. “On a date.”

The overhead spotlights danced in the space between the two of you as if beckoning the two of you together. Silver streamers taped to the ceiling cast shards of sparkling light dancing across the both of your figures. The music continued its soft, steady beat, a calm comparison to the racing of your own heartbeat. The couples all continued their embraces, occupied within their own little worlds. God, how lame it all was.

And you laughed.

Murayama shrunk back a little, clearly taking your laughter the wrong way. You quickly reconciled by taking his hand and pulling yourself from your chair, sending him a soft smile. The tension from his shoulders relaxed, and that playful confidence in him returned again.

“So?” It was his turn to pry you for an answer.

“So,” you repeated. “How about you take me out on a date. I’m feeling kind of hungry. Ramen, maybe?”

He laced his fingers between yours. “You read my mind.”