they wish they were us | conan gray

16. a fitting name

a/n: I m narrating hunt's pov. just to avoid confusion

***

Hunt doesn't know how to approach him. Sure, he's seen him around school and maybe it would have been alright to say hi around there. After Conan very rudely shutting the door in his face, Hunt can't help but feel Noah played a part in it.

So, he waits- two hours- till Conan leaves his side. Noah had been doing homework on his laptop and Conan showed up. They ended having what seemed like a little a date, with a lot of odd touching, short side hugs and mild banter. The curly haired boy blushes around Noah like he's experiencing some beautiful fever dream. It felt like watching a domestic couple and he hated every second of it.

Now that every thing seems a bit in the clear, Hunt decides to stride in and hopefully- and figuratively- never leave Noah's mind. He's sitting all by himself in the corner booth, clad in a pastel yellow jacket that looks like canary yellow in the lighting, over a white pleated skirt.

So maybe he is objectively pretty with his dark hair, gentle features and the way he looks so into his work. Perhaps even Hunter would want to go out with him. He knows it could never work out. Noah is just good to look at on the surface but he's really a loner who is incapable of making friends and by the looks of it, he's an all-time job. Exhausting.

Hunt waves at him slowly with a friendly smile but he doesn't look up from his work at all. An employee sees him and lets out a provoked laugh. He wants to punch their lights out. He takes in a deep breath and relocates his shoulder joints. You can do this. You're just asking about what he means to Conan.

He reaches near Noah who has earplugs in. Gently, Hunt taps on his shoulder to get his attention. Noah spins around in panic, taking his earplugs out. They just make him look more helpless, like he can't hear.

"Hi," Hunt says with a wide smile. Noah looks knocked for six but murmurs back a swift greeting and turns back to his work.

Having observed him around the school quite a bit, Hunt knows that it his usual odd behavior. No wonder he has no friends. The best way, Hunt decides, is to get him to talk with questions. He just doesn't seem to be the chatty type.

"You're Tanaka from Fine arts, right?" Hunt asks, sliding into a chair next to him. The other boy looks stung by a bee, troubled and the least bit pleased with the idea. He wonders for a split second if he will ask him to leave and get another table but he doesn't.

"Yeah," Noah says, clicking away on his laptop and noting down something in neat cursive. What a goody two shoes, Hunt rolls his eyes. He is twirling around a rubber band in his grip, shifting it from finger to finger while using his other hand to work.

How do you make conversation with someone like him? "You come here often?"

"The lighting is nice," he replies which isn't really an answer to Hunt's question but he silently accepts that. The way Noah talks, people possibly presume him to be really dumb or really smart. Hunt isn't sure which side he is on but he resolves that as long as Noah replies to his questions, he'll get his answers, however imprecise.

"It's a nice place for dates," Hunt says, dropping his most gigantic pebble into the waters. However the ripples flow, he'll worm his question into casual conversation. It's somewhat disheartening that by the looks of it, the other boy is the least bit interested.

"I guess so," Noah says quietly. Hunt used to think Alice was annoying with her continuous prattling. He's been proven wrong with Noah.

Hunt bites his lip in exhaustion. It isn't possible to have a back-and-forth conversation with him. He might have to do it directly now. He had hoped it wouldn't come to this but the other boy just isn't budging. "You and Conan dating?"