Twenty-Two

It's been two weeks since I joined the Nature Art Club, and to be honest, I still don't know shit about art. Naturally, Nanase-san, in all her glorious nonsense, suggested I be the "club mascot". I thought I'd die of embarrassment on the spot. Lucky for me, senpai stepped in and made me the club manager instead. So, as a manager, my tasks range from coming up with ideas to promote the club to doing whatever keeps this place from getting the axe.

Even though I quit the basketball team, the coach and seniors still want me to show up now and then. It's fine, really, but it gives some people a reason to roll their eyes. Not that I care. They're nobodies. Let them hate.

Anyway, let's be real—the Nature Art Club isn't my top priority. My top priority? Senpai. 

Watching him paint is… something else. The way he bites a brush while mixing colours on his palette. The way his lower lip gets caught between his teeth when the painting isn't coming together. The way he adjusts his glasses for a clearer look. Hell, even the way he tucks his sandy blonde hair behind his ear when he's hyper-focused—it's maddening. And okay, fine, maybe I imagine him doing that while… uh, yeah. Moving on.

Senpai doesn't talk much while he paints, but that's fine. I'd rather watch him than focus on the club proposal paperwork I'm supposed to be working on. Not that I can stare all day—Nanase-san's loud voice always manages to ruin the peace.

"Hasegawa-kun! Where's Hasegawa-kun?!" Her shrill voice feels like someone's driving a drill into my ears. Judging by senpai's furrowed brows and sharp tongue-click, I know I'm not alone in my suffering.

When I first arrived at the clubroom after school, Nanase-san and the others were out buying art supplies, leaving just me and senpai. It was quiet—perfect. But barely an hour later, Nanase-san bursts in like a whirlwind. No knocking, no warning. She rushes at me, grabbing both sides of my blazer collar like I've committed some heinous crime.

"Why didn't you ask Handa-sensei to be our club advisor? Why that awkward librarian?!" she yells, shaking me so hard I'm pretty sure my brain rattles against my skull.

"Ah, but we got ourselves a club advisor, right?" I reply, trying to loosen her death grip on my now-wrinkled blazer.

"That's not the point!" she screeches, ignoring me completely. "She can't boost our club's popularity! I wanted Handa-sensei to be the face of our club!"

"Eh? My face isn't enough for you? Didn't you want me to be the mascot? Are you taking me for granted?" I whine, more to annoy her than anything.

Okay, maybe I'm actually a little annoyed. I went through hell to secure this club's future, and she's still harping on about Handa-sensei. Yeah, sure, he's young, handsome, and popular, but come on—at least acknowledge my efforts. I gave up my golden-boy status for this dying club! Doesn't that count for something?

Just as Nanase-san is about to argue me back, senpai's voice cuts through the chaos.

"He's right. At least now the school has no reason to disband us."

Nanase-san immediately stops shaking me, while senpai adjusts his glasses and places his palette on a nearby bench before moving to put his easel away at the back of the room.

"Our first mission is to save this club from being shut down," he says, his voice calm but firm. "It doesn't matter who joins us or what their background is. We've accomplished that part."

Damn. The way he speaks—so composed, so… cool. If senpai ever started a cult, I'd sign up without hesitation.

"Hah… fine," Nanase-san mutters, pouting like a kid who didn't get her way. She drags a chair over and slumps into it while Inoue-senpai and Asakura-san return with plastic bags full of supplies, placing them on the desks.

"Uh… vice-president…" Asakura-san speaks up, her voice shaky as she fidgets with the hem of her uniform. "The money you gave us wasn't enough, so—"

"Hah?!" senpai's eyes widen in shock, his brows knitting together so tightly it's almost comical. Poor Asakura-san lets out a squeaky little hiccup, startled by his outburst.

And here we go. Another day, another storm brewing in the Nature Art Club.

"This must be your idea—violating my money to buy unnecessary junk food," senpai says, his tone sharp enough to cut steel. His glare? Full-on death-ray mode, aimed straight at Nanase-san.

But does she care? Nope. Not even a little. She just grins like a brat who got away with stealing the last cookie from the jar. Then, with the most unapologetic energy ever, she pulls a can of coffee out from one of the plastic bags on the desk. Holding it up like it's some peace offering, she says, "Come on, don't be so bitter, Morikita-kun. This is all necessary. And look—I even thought about you. This one's from me—I bought it just for you."

"Using your money," Inoue-san chimes in, her voice flat as she casually reaches for a bag of chips, completely unfazed by the tension, while, Nanase-san giggles, clearly amused, and senpai? He just rolls his eyes so hard I'm half-worried they'll get stuck like that.

Honestly, it's like watching a sitcom in real time.