CHAPTER 15

It was chaos.

Utterly.

Hiro, Saki, Yuji—even me—were shocked beyond compare at the sheet Hinata had handed to an equally jaw-fallen Wannabe before his dreaded proclamation.

"Hinata?" demanded Hiro, incredulity sifting upon his features. "Where's this coming from?"

"What's going on, Hinata?" Saki agreed, tears swelling in her eyes. "You just said you were going to need a little break—"

"This break has to be permanent," Hinata said brusquely. For the first time ever, Hinata was nowhere close to smiling, or happy. Solemnity was etched onto every portion of his face, only proving this all true. His eyes met Wannabe's, lips curving down further. "I apologize for the short notice, but as of today I'll officially be leaving the Humanity Club."

The silence that lingered was unexpectedly heavy and cruel. Hauling myself upright on the sofa I usually laid on, I plucked an earbud out of my ear and directed my attention on what was unfolding. It seemed like the premonition I felt had been right. Still, a decision like this was the last thing I'd imagine to come from Hinata's mouth.

From what I knew, Hinata was just as attached to this club, just as close to these members, as Luffy was to meat. A pretty bold comparison, I agree, but that was just what it was. Comprehending that easygoing, lighthearted Hinata appeared so pessimistic as he uttered these words probably hit them a whole lot harder than I could imagine.

"Since when were you planning on doing this?" This time it was Yuji's turn to press, eyebrows scrunched together. "It's only been half a year and you're already bailing on us?"

Hinata impassively looked his way. Before he could speak, Saki grasped his shoulders, shaking him vehemently.

"Did Suzuki-sensei give you this slip?" she demanded. "Did you already talk to her about this? Why didn't you tell us? Hina—"

"It's not that big of a deal," Hinata's voice barely surpassed a whisper. Saki lurched away from him with widened eyes. Though stiff from his actions, Hinata pressed his lips together. "This club was a good pastime," he said. "Besides, it's because I decided to be its fifth member this club was allowed to become instated in the school. Since you have Hoshino now you don't need me, right?"

"Hinata, that's BS and you know it," Hiro interjected, grounding his teeth. "Why are you doing this?"

Hinata was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. He shrank away from him, quivering like a leaf. "I—"

"Are you joining another club?"

All means of attention shifted towards me, as if everyone had just realized I was there. My intensity on Hinata didn't falter, but he did the slightest under it, and soon he gave in with the slump of his shoulders.

"The Art Club," he answered, almost reluctantly.

"The Art Club?" Hiro reiterated. "You're leaving us to join the—"

Wannabe stopped Hiro with a hand. You couldn't spot nonchalance from the guy a mile away either. "You thought about this seriously didn't you?"

Hinata stared and him and despite the gazes from the others as if pleading he didn't, he bobbed his head. "Sorry, Kazuya."

"Then I won't stop you," Wannabe said. There was a crack on his countenance, revealing a smile as he wrung his arm around his neck. "Cheer up, Hinata! I must've pressured you to join the club in the beginning of the year and because you wanted to help me, you joined. Sorry if I got in the way of your original goals."

"That's not true," he refuted and paused, dropping his gaze. "I... enjoyed myself tons; made plenty of memories. Just...."

Seeming to understand he couldn't choke the words out, Wannabe's grin only broadened. If you peered close enough, it was obvious he was doing it just for him. "I guess it's time for the Compassionate to retire, then," he declared, peeking around the room to prod the gloomy us to do the same. "It was a fun six months, Hinata."

Though he tried, with the amount of dejection from his betrayal encircling the rest of the room, Hinata simply couldn't find it in him to return Wannabe's smile.

——————————————————

"Is this right?"

Hiro was lost in his own little world, glaring into nothing with clenched teeth and fists.

"Hiro?" I called and frowned once he didn't break from his daze. "Hiro-sensei? Shortie—"

"What?" he snapped. I held my arms with a whistle and Hiro's scrunched features loosened the slightest. He sighed, running his fingers through his shaggy hair. "Oh, sorry. I zoned out."

"You were glaring too. You're only fifteen and yet you have a crazy amount of wrink—"

"Don't even finish that sentence," he hissed, swatting my hand away from his eyebrows.

I retracted my arms and whistled again. Rolling his eyes, Hiro fixed his focus to the math equation I had finished. He stared at it without any emotion for awhile, in a manner where I truly believed I had hope to a correct answer for once. Until, of course, he gave it a bright red 'x' with his pen to shoot down my pipe dream.

"I thought I got it this time," I groaned, dropping my head.

"You should be getting this right," he pressed. "How come you're still getting it wrong? We've been going at it for weeks now and we're not even halfway through this lesson."

"That's because I'm learning new material everyday while still trying to retain previous information. It's not so easy y'know."

He sighed and shook his head as he wrote down the right step-by-step formula to answer the question. "You'd seriously have been better off with someone better tutoring you—like Hinata—"

His words halted abruptly. Eyebrows knitted together, Hiro paused and momentarily shut his eyes before continuing to write.

All of them had been like this since Hinata proclaimed his transfer of clubs. It'd been a week since then and these people still hadn't talked to the guy. Despite usually eating lunch together, I even passed by to find Hinata sitting at his own respective table.

Today, too; Wannabe just dismissed club activities so here Hiro and I were, coped up in the school library. Every single one of them were just needlessly moping...

"You guys are acting like Hinata betrayed the HC or something," I finally said, frowning at him.

Hiro's shoulders squared as he scribbled some more. "He practically did."

My fingers twitched at his answer, irked. I grabbed his wrist to stop his pointless writing and held his gaze. "What do you mean? Our club barely does anything anyway!" I reasoned. "If the guy likes art—which I'm really shocked to find out by the way—what's so wrong about him joining?"

Hiro scowled, but I simply returned an equally hostile one. He resigned with a groan and slipped his hand from mine. He slumped in his seat.

"You're taking his side?"

"There's no side to take," I snapped. "It's just annoying how you're all behaving like babies. Just because of a petty thing like this you're going to cancel out your friendship? Hinata doesn't have to be at your beck and call all the time. Let the guy live his life however way he wants."

I was trying to keep my voice in as much of a whisper as I could, but I guess I was still loud enough to draw gazes from the surrounding tables in the library. Hiro glowered at me, and when everyone finally looked away and resumed with their studies, he spoke again, more quietly.

"You of all people have no right to tell me a thing about friendship."

Really quickly, my heart sunk in my chest, giving it a heavy feel. Swallowing back the growing lump in my throat, I rested my arms by my sides and gritted my teeth. Honestly, he was completely right. Those idiots in the club—whatever happened with them or their means of 'friendship' didn't concern me. One bit.

I mean, if this entire discord escalated maybe another member would leave the club also and I would finally attain what I wanted since I was forced into this all: freedom. From them; this whole volunteer club. It shouldn't be a matter I had to butt into, I knew. I was the least qualified to talk about friendships. Still... even still...

"I'm not angry about him leaving," Hiro said, taking me off guard. "None of us are; that's pathetic. It's just—why he didn't tell us beforehand?"

"Hinata's extremely nice and things were going so well with the club," I got out, tentatively. My words inwardly reverberated as I did. "He most likely didn't want to hurt you; make you guys hate him for it."

"If that's the case he deserves a good smack." Hiro's claim snatched my surprise. "If he took that break of his for weeks on end thinking relentlessly that he didn't want to hurt us—no. If since the beginning he joined this club with constant regret despite wanting to join the Art Club—he's an idiot. Why drop your aspirations for something like your friends?"

Because he treasured your friendship. Because he didn't want things to break off. "He probably thought it was too late," I said instead. "I mean, it's already been six months since the school year started."

"Still doesn't give him the right to talk to Suzuki-sensei behind our backs and drop this bomb out of nowhere."

Hiro tapped his fingers on the tabletop before heaving a loud breath. I also bit the inside of my cheek and with a grunt of defeat, I pushed back my chair and ascended to my feet.

"Stand up."

Hiro rotated his head my way in disbelief. "Why? You sit down, our session isn't over—"

"Get up," I enunciated again, grasping him by the collar and yanking him upwards, "and let's go."

Hiro teetered off his chair due to my tugs until he stumbled to his feet after seizing his bag. Then we were off, heading for the exit of the library, wild looks from the other students being shot in our direction. They thought I was crazy, clearly. So obviously I went and flashed them a wide smile and wave to which they immediately turned away and buried their noses back into their books. I snorted and rolled my eyes.

"—shino! Hoshino!" Hiro's shouts echoed in my ears after pulling him down the hallway. He swatted my hands off of him and standing proper, he grabbed his collar and attempted to smoothen the wrinkles the best he could. "Hey!"

"Hey."

He scowled at my nonchalance. "Not hey," he snapped in defence. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Settling this pathetic quarrel," I easily stated, placing a hand to my hip. "If he's apart of that club, he should be in the room. Let's go."

Hiro caught onto my hidden message and shook his head. He spun around. "No—"

"Yes!" I slapped my hands over his wrist. "You need to talk, scream, yell it out; I don't care! I'm going to get the rest of them over there too so you can sort things out. Capeesh?"

Hiro yanked for his freedom but I was quite proud of my cobra-like grip. "I'm not doing this!"

I planted my feet firmly on the linoleum, keeping my ground. "Yes you are! Stop—"

"Oh look, a Sebastian Michaelis and Ciel Phantomhive poster!"

His fingers slipped from mine and I spun around in the direction he had pointed towards with utmost glee. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, where— and he got me. Great. He used my Black Butler weakness against me; I'm an idiot."

When I pivoted on my toes, surprise, surprise, Hiro was long gone from this deserted hallway, leaving only me here in the dust. Baseball had given him quite the speed, dammit. Sighing, I threw my arms into the air in exasperation.

"What a baby!" I called after him, although knowing he couldn't hear me. Recalling the rest them and this overhanging sour mood this entire week, I was left to face-palm. "Babies. All of them."

——————————————————

Approaching the coral lit classroom from the setting sun, I stood at the ajar Art Club doorway, peering inside. There weren't too many desks in the room, mainly because right now it was filled mostly with multiple easels. A summer day, cars, stereotypical fruits and vegetables; regardless of the simplicity, the paintings propped upon them were all extremely pretty. Though, the sight that had caught all my attention was the only member left in the room who was currently painting the beautiful sunset from the open window before him.

His hands moved delicately across the large canvas, pressing even the tiniest of details. Despite his back to me he still shouldered such broad wonder and focus. It was obvious he hadn't started painting overnight but spent a gruelling number of years of his life to get this far. So far that it was hard to believe he was only a first year high school student; one apart of the Humanity Club.

I stalked into the room, not wanting really disturb his focus. Despite that, right as I took my second step, my foot connected with a bucket of paint, allowing me to trip. I not-so-elegantly collapsed over the (thankfully) closed containers and hit the floor.

Hinata was stirred from his focus and he instantly darted to his feet, shouting, "Oh, sorry, Kanada-senpai! I really want to finish up this piece and then I'll go home for the— Hoshino?"

His footsteps carefully approached until they halted right above my head. Feeling a blush coming on, I awkwardly peeled my throbbing face from the ground and waved. "Oh, uh, h-hi, Hinata. Fancy seeing you up there. Ha ha."

Hinata appeared between a cross of amusement and concern as he crouched and assisted me upright. Once I could finally feel the floor beneath my feet and not my face, I looked up at Hinata.

His brown eyes met mine, riddled with incredible puzzlement. "Hoshino, what are you doing here?"

Great, I didn't exactly plan that question through. My feet sort of led me here after Hiro ditched me... "What a nice painting!" I settled for instead. If I went with the other approach it might've gotten awkward very quickly and that was not what I wanted.

Manoeuvring my way around Hinata, I approached his painting, and seeing it up close truly filled me with awe.

"Did you really paint this?"

Hinata stepped up behind me, cheeks tinged in colour. He sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Um, yeah. I haven't painted on such a large canvas in a while so I've gotta practice more to make up for the time I missed."

Traces of distress entered his voice. I moved away from the painting and watched as he went to grab me a stool to sit on. Once sitting—him in front of his painting again—his earlier features shifted to the state I feared would result. He knew why I'd come.

"Were you always doing art?"

Hinata scooped his paintbrush into his hands and fiddled with it. "Longer than I can remember. My mom says I've been slapping colours around before I could even walk."

I hummed. "Dropped it in middle school?"

He frowned at the question. "I kept it up until my final year. Just, the Art Club there wasn't so great."

"Why?" I nudged my head to his work, rocking back and forth. "You were too much of a genius they couldn't teach you anything anymore?"

"I wish." He tried to send me a smile but it only came out forced. "More like, they didn't teach at all. It was always self-study since the supervising teacher didn't care the slightest about art."

"Is that such a bad thing?" I questioned. "You could do whatever you wanted, right?"

He stopped beating around the bush. "The other members were the problem," he said. "Just like the teacher, they didn't have the motivation to do anything. Since it was only 'art,' they joined only to fool around with their friends. And since the teacher was always in the staffroom, they did exactly that.

"Swears, bickering, fist fights... It all went on over my head for the entire three years; it was a train wreck, honestly. And whenever our teacher did check up on us, they settled for drawing childish stick finger comics or ridiculing my artwork in front of the class. They constantly made me feel like an idiot for working so hard and for trying to improve. Since I'm a guy."

My mouth had fallen. "What assholes!"

"They were," Hinata said. "It didn't help that my art was plagiarized by one of them, too. They stole it from the classroom, traced it over, won a competition and got their art hung. They deny it, but I know they did it. I wasn't able to prove otherwise, nor did that dang teacher try anything to stop it, especially without proof. Brushed it aside saying I was being a poor sport."

"Oh crap," I said and cringed. Did I really just say that? "I-I mean—"

"Crap, indeed." The swear rolled off his tongue weird as he puffed, "Well, what could I do, right? I could only be grateful it wasn't one of my most proud works."

"Is that why you dropped it in high school?"

Hinata shrugged. "I was going to. That's why when Kazuya and them approached me and begged me to be the fifth member of their club I decided I wasn't going to lose anything and did it. But then this high school's Art Club contacted me through Suzuki-sensei. They told me they loved one of my paintings and asked me to join. It was tempting, but I couldn't just leave the Humanity Club and let them disband, right?"

"So when I joined you started thinking about it seriously?"

"The people at this club are nice," he said. "And they work so hard; nothing like the kids from my middle school. That one day Suzuki-sensei interrupted our club time and told me to come with her, she took me to meet them and I realized then how much I wanted to be apart of this—" He beckoned to the room. "—but I was unsure. I just had so much fun in the Humanity Club, you know. I made amazing friends there, too. But just—"

"—you want to be an Artista," I finished for him. "I get it."

Hinata gave me a baffled look.

I snorted. Well he'd be a good Tsukushi Monet.

At the silence that lapsed through, Hinata gripped the paintbrush tightly. "Am I doing something unforgivable?"

Frazzled, I cocked an eyebrow. "Why would you think that?"

"Those guys and Saki—my friends," he said. "They accepted me when I came to this academy, and even asked me to join the club they hoped to start up. And yet here I am ditching and putting my own priorities ahead of them."

"But that's because you want to pursue what you want," I told him. "They understand that, trust me. Though—"

"I should've told them." He hung his head and balled his fists. "I know."

"Hinata." I caught his gaze. "If you know then you should be talking to them now instead of me. I mean, regardless, you're going after what you want to. So you won't regret it as much as if you force yourself to stay in the Humanity Club. And if they're your friends—which they are 'cause those guys are moping exactly like you are right now—they'll support this."

Hinata's eyes widened. Straightening up, he brushed aside his red strands from his eyes, mouth parted. "Hoshino... you're surprisingly good at cheering people up."

I fought back a smile. "Don't get the wrong idea. Those guys have just been so dejected lately, and so have you and it's been getting on my nerves. You could still be 'friends' even if you're not in the same club, can't you? So stop thinking you're a stranger now that you're some Artista and talk some sense into those bums too."

He was starting to brighten after each and every sentence (I was acing this whole cliched pep talk thing from the animes I'd watched) until I reached the last one. He promptly faced me with a confused smile, but for the first time in such a long time, he laughed. "I still don't know what that means, but thanks, Hoshino."

My own eyelids lifted the slightest, and heat crossed my cheeks. Wow this guy was a looker. Well, to be honest, I think all of them in the club were. I was honestly surrounded by real life bishounens and a bishoujo, and I didn't even consider it.

His eyes lit up like Christmas lights as he randomly bolted up from his chair. "Oh yeah!" he said, hastening to the back of the room and reaching for something in the cupboards. "I tried painting that girl you were cosplaying. Touka, right?"

"You know her?" I don't think I told him the character did I?

After grabbing the canvas, Hinata returned to me and extended it out rather timidly. "It's not so great, but—"

"Holy shit on toast!" I squealed, utterly gawking when I'd received it from him. "You even painted Saki's Rima and Yuji's Senri and Hiro's Ken!? Kazuya's Aido, too!" My head whipped his way so fast it nearly snapped. "This is so flipping gorgeous! You can paint as good as Mashiro Shiina! How do you know all these characters—"

"I don't know all of them," Hinata bashfully laughed, "but I found them out. Suzuki-sensei showed me a picture of you guys altogether and I had the urge to try painting it. I had a feeling you'd like it."

"Hinata...!" I felt on the verge of tears. What sweet talent. "I swear be my very own Artista and draw me anime or manga characters for the rest of my life please! I need those gifted hands in my life!"

Hinata only laughed harder. "You're welcome, Hoshino. You can keep it."

My jaw plummeted to the ground and I thrusted it to him. "N-no! No way! This is too holy for the likes of me—"

He pushed it back into my fingers. "Calm down and accept it."

"B-b-but the holiness—"

He patted my head and dropped to look me in the eye. He enunciated slowly, "Calm."

I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood and hugged it close to me. I sniffled and nodded my head.

"Make sure to keep those guys on a leash for me," Hinata said, stifling another chuckle. He was smiling fuller now.

"I'll try," I said. "But I'm still waiting for my saving grace to come—hopefully soon—so I can finally ditch that club, too."

"You say that but you fit in so well with us," he pointed out.

"Stop living in your imagination. We're complete opposites." I set down the painting onto an empty easel with primmed lips. This was definitely going to be my life source from now on. "I already told you, Hinata, I don't need friends."

"Maybe you don't," he said, an honest-to-goodness grin in play, "but is it bad that I still want to think of you as one?"