[Third Person POV]
Miku walked over without hesitation, slipping her arms around Clark's neck in a soft embrace.
"The hell? What are you doing? That wasn't an invitation to come and hug me," Clark muttered in his usual monotone, giving her a sharp side-eye like she'd just broken some unwritten law.
"I don't care," Miku answered easily, her grin disarming in its sincerity. "It looked like you needed it. You might not think highly of yourself, Clark, but I do. You shouldn't hate yourself. You're an amazing person with qualities most people don't even have."
Clark grimaced as though her arms were made of fire, his shoulders stiff. "What I need is for you to stop touching me…"
Her giggle rang out like a bell, unbothered, as she let go. Still, curiosity tugged at her, and she tilted her head. "Why is it you hate being touched so much? You were the same when we were younger."
Clark scoffed, scooping up his can of soda and taking a long sip as though the drink might wash away the conversation. "Don't think that just because I shared a little fragment about myself with you, I'm suddenly going to start spilling my guts. I only told you that because it was something I figured out when I saw you just now. Nothing more."
"Well… I'm just glad you were willing to share that much with me." Her smile softened, warm and patient in a way that made Clark uncomfortable—like she was shining a light into places he'd rather keep buried. "So thank you."
"Whatever," Clark muttered, eyes shifting away as he drank again. However, he could feel her gaze on him, burning with curiosity, as if she was trying to unravel him thread by thread.
He ran his hand through his hair with a tired exhale. Ruffling his messy hair, he finally shut his eyes. "…I don't like being touched for a lot of reasons. I value personal space. Privacy matters to me. Physical contact feels like… like someone is invading that space, that privacy. Another thing—" he paused, "—I was raised to be tough. To be strong. Hugging someone, letting yourself be vulnerable like that—it's not something I'm all too used to. So now it feels… unnatural. Uncomfortable."
He stared down at the can in his hand. For a moment, his reflection on the aluminum blurred into another image—his father's face from his previous life. He was the toughest man he knew, never once showing any weakness to him as he raised him by himself, something he had admired about him and something he subconsciously picked up.
Frustration bubbled up, and Clark raked a hand through his hair with a low groan. "Ughhh… this entire conversation is making me uncomfortable. I don't even know why I'm saying all this to you! God, you're really pissing me off right now."
Miku didn't flinch. She only smiled, quiet joy flickering in her expression. To her, this was progress. He was letting her see him. And she had a feeling that wasn't something he did lightly.
Clark leveled her with a flat, dangerous stare. "Keep staring at me like that and the next thing you know, there's going to be a Coke can smacking you right on the head."
Miku looked away quickly, but her shoulders shook with stifled laughter. She leaned back against the wall, giggling into her drink. "I'm sorry for staring. I can't help it. I'm just… honestly really happy that you found it in yourself to open up to me."
Her voice softened as she glanced down at her can, tracing the rim with her finger. "I thought since we only met once in the past, it was going to be so much harder to reconnect. But it doesn't feel like that at all. It feels like we just picked up where we left off… like no time has passed. In fact, it's almost like being apart made us closer"
Clark rolled his eyes as he drained the last of his soda. Without hesitation, he crushed the can flat between his palms until the aluminum squealed. He started playing around with it and finally asked, "So… what was up with your sister? Was she bothering me just to be annoying, or what?"
The way he said it made it clear—he wanted to move on. And yet, even as the conversation shifted, he didn't get up. He didn't walk away. And he couldn't quite explain why.
"Ah, no—it was honestly an important matter. Important to us, anyways," Miku said, scratching her cheek nervously. "You see… we didn't exactly do well in the mock exam. Honestly, we did pretty badly. Our dad's pretty strict when it comes to grades, so he's not going to like that. He expects great results from us, so we might get into some trouble. He might forgive it this time since it was the first exam and we can blame it on not being too prepared, getting used to the school and all, but if it happens again…"
Her voice trailed off, and she shifted uncomfortably.
Clark frowned, his brows knitting together. "What? Does he physically abuse you or something?"
"Huh?! Wha—No! Nothing that extreme!" Miku flailed her hands in a panic, desperate to clear the misunderstanding. "He'll probably just take away some of our privileges or things like that."
"Then why did you pause?" Clark shot back, his tone edged with sarcasm. "That pause didn't help your case."
Miku's cheeks flushed bright red, her lips tightening. "I… I just didn't want to get into details, okay?"
"Whatever," Clark scoffed. "Still don't get how any of this has to do with me."
Pressing her fingers together, Miku forced herself to explain. "Well… Yotsuba got the idea to hire the top student as our tutor to help us study. That ended up being you. Itsuki and I were against it, but Nino and Ichika thought it was a good idea. So, it was three against two—we lost. And since it was Yotsuba's idea, we left it to her to actually hire you."
Clark snorted, leaning back. "Well, it's a good thing I spat in her face."
Miku's expression fell flat. Her tone grew uncharacteristically serious. "Yeah, I didn't like that. She's still my sister, you know. I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that again."
Clark raised a brow, intrigued by the sudden steel in her voice. He'd pegged her as meek, timid even, but the way she straightened at the mention of her sister made him grin faintly. "Oh? So you can bite."
She didn't rise to the bait, just stared him down.
Clark's smirk softened. "Then I apologize. Guess I might've taken that a bit too far."
Miku gave a small nod. "I'll tell her you said sorry, though I'm not sure how she'll take it. You could make it up to her by becoming our tutor."
A sly smirk tugged at her lips.
Clark let out a single sharp laugh. "Ha! Good one! You do realize I've got other responsibilities, right?" His expression cooled, serious again.
"I know," Miku admitted, her tone gentler now. "That's why I was against the idea in the first place. But… it doesn't have to be every day. Only when you have time. You know… when you're not busy saving the world."
Clark eyed her flatly. "So you seriously want me to use what little free time I get—the only time I have to myself—and give that up just to teach a bunch of girls I barely even know? That's what you're asking me?"
Miku hesitated, then added softly, "…You'll get paid."
"I'll get paid huh", Clark slowly pulled off his glasses and held them out to her. "Here."
"Eh? What for?" she asked, blinking as she reached for them.
"Because it seems you need them more than I do," Clark said, his tone dry. "Do I look fucking poor to you? That you think money would entice me?"
Miku froze, hand halfway between them. Then she puffed out her cheeks in a small, pouty sulk, her lips tightening in frustration.
Clark blinked at the sight, sliding his glasses back onto his face. He didn't say it aloud, but something about her puffed cheeks—her quiet indignation—struck him as oddly… endearing.
He clicked his tongue and looked away. "…Tch. Ridiculous."
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