[22] Never Gonna Give (You Up)

Friday, April 8

I stared at the math problem in front of me, tapping my pencil against the notebook balanced on my knee. The numbers seemed to mock me as I sat on the floor, my back pressed against the common room couch. Behind me, Tetsutetsu let out another enthusiastic "YEAH!" at whatever was happening in his bargain-bin martial arts movie.

"Did you see that?" he shouted. "That's the kind of raw power we need to incorporate into our training!"

"The wire work is visible," Todo pointed out from his spot on the couch. "But I appreciate the protagonist's conviction. His taste in women, however..."

I scratched out another failed attempt at solving the equation. Ectoplasm had really outdone himself this time - these problems were getting more complex by the day. The sound of exaggerated punches and kicks from the TV competed with the numbers swimming in my head.

"Awase, you seeing this?" Tetsutetsu's voice boomed. "That welding technique could work with your quirk!"

"That's... not how metalworking actually functions," Awase replied, but I could hear the amusement in his voice. "The molecular bonds would-"

"Details, details! It's about the spirit of it!"

I glanced up at my classmates. Todo sat cross-legged on the couch, one hand stroking his chin as he analyzed every scene with the intensity of a film critic. Tetsutetsu had claimed the floor in front of the TV, occasionally shadowboxing along with the action sequences. Awase occupied the armchair, looking torn between entertainment and secondhand embarrassment at the film's technical inaccuracies.

"Okay, what am I missing here?" I muttered, returning to problem number six. The equation felt like it was deliberately designed to drive me insane. Maybe that was Ectoplasm's true quirk.

"THAT'S IT!" Tetsutetsu jumped to his feet, his skin already shifting to steel. "We should try that combo move right now!"

"We're indoors," Awase reminded him.

"Tomorrow then! Todo, you in?"

"Only if you can tell me your type in women first."

I turned the page sideways, hoping a new angle would reveal the solution. It didn't.

"Oh come on, not this again," Awase groaned.

"It's a crucial element of understanding one's fighting spirit," Todo insisted. "For instance, Akira-"

"Don't drag me into this," I said without looking up. "I'm trying to figure out why X equals death right now."

"The answer's 47," Todo said casually.

I blinked, double-checking my work. "How did you-"

"The movie protagonist's girlfriend appeared exactly 47 times in the background before revealing herself as the true villain. It was obvious foreshadowing." He paused. "Also, I finished that homework during lunch."

I wrote down 47, then immediately erased it. "I need to figure this out myself."

"MY TYPE IS STRONG WOMEN!" Tetsutetsu declared, pumping his fist in the air. "STRONG IN BODY AND SPIRIT!"

"Hmm." Todo nodded sagely. "Basic, but respectable."

The movie's dramatic music swelled as I finally spotted my mistake in the equation. I'd been carrying the wrong number this whole time. "Ha! Got you, you little-"

A collective groan from my classmates interrupted my victory.

"That ending was so predictable," Awase said.

"The final fight didn't even use half the techniques they set up!" Tetsutetsu slumped back to the floor.

"And the protagonist never answered the crucial question about his ideal type," Todo added solemnly.

I flipped to the next problem, already dreading what new mathematical torture awaited me. "Please tell me you're not putting on another one."

"OF COURSE WE ARE!" Tetsutetsu was already swapping out the DVDs. "This one's called 'Fist of the Drunken Master's Revenge Part 4'!"

"There are four of these?" Awase asked incredulously.

"Actually, there are seven," Todo corrected. "The later installments explore some fascinating themes about-"

"Nope," I gathered my homework and stood up. "I'm out. My brain can only handle one form of punishment at a time."

"Coward!" Tetsutetsu called after me as I headed for the stairs. "You're missing out on valuable training material!"

"I'll catch the next one," I lied, then added truthfully, "Thanks for the company though."

The math homework might be hell, but at least my classmates made it entertaining. Even if their taste in movies was questionable at best.

I scrawled the final answer into my notebook with more force than necessary, then collapsed back in my desk chair. The last three hours had been a special kind of mathematical torture, but I'd finally conquered Ectoplasm's homework.

"Never again," I muttered, knowing full well there'd be another set eventually.

A knock at my door interrupted my moment of victory. I considered ignoring it - my brain felt like it had been put through a blender - but the knock came again, more insistent this time.

"Yeah?"

The door creaked open and Camie poked her head in, her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun. She wore an oversized t-shirt with some English text I couldn't make out and pink athletic shorts.

"Yo, Aki-boy, you've been ghosting the group chat," she said, inviting herself in. "We're planning this whole thing for-" She stopped mid-sentence, making a beeline for my beanbag chair. "Oh sweet, you got one of these?"

I pointed to my phone sitting face-down on my desk. "Do Not Disturb mode. Homework time is sacred time."

"Ugh, you sound like such a dad right now." She flopped onto the beanbag, somehow making the awkward descent look graceful. "Speaking of homework though..."

"No."

"I didn't even ask yet!"

"You're here about Ectoplasm's assignment." I spun my chair to face her. "The answer's still no."

She pouted, pulling out her phone. "Come on, just like, a peek? These problems are straight wack. Look at number four - what even is this?"

"The same thing it was three hours ago when I started - impossible until it isn't."

"Deep," she said, not looking up from her phone. "But for real though, help a girl out? I'll buy you lunch tomorrow."

"You still owe me lunch from last time."

"Details, details." She waved her hand dismissively.

"Do your own homework, Camie."

"But why though?" She rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands. "It's not like copying answers hurts anyone. The homework's just busy work anyway."

"Because," I leaned forward in my chair, "if you copy my answers, you won't learn anything. And if you don't learn anything, you might miss something important. And if you miss something important-"

"Yeah yeah, I could die in the field because I didn't understand differential equations." She rolled her eyes. "You really do sound like a teacher right now."

"Good. Then maybe you'll actually listen."

"Fat chance." She sat up, crossing her legs. "But fine, I'll do it myself. Can I at least work on it here? My room's too quiet and it's making my brain itch."

I glanced at my newly completed homework, then back at her hopeful expression. "You actually going to work, or just try to sneak peeks at my answers?"

"Fifty-fifty?" She grinned. "Nah for real though, I'll behave. Scout's honor."

"Were you ever even a scout?"

"Irrelevant." She was already pulling out her notebook. "Now explain to me why X hates me personally and wants me to suffer."

I sighed, but pulled my chair closer to the beanbag. "Alright, but we're starting from the beginning. No shortcuts."

"You're the worst," she groaned, but there was no real annoyance in her voice. "Fine, teach me your ways, oh wise one."

"First rule - put your phone away."

"Now you're just being cruel."

"Do you want help or not?"

She made a show of turning off her phone and tossing it aside. "There. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," I deadpanned. "Now, let's talk about why X isn't actually your enemy - it's just misunderstood."

"Like a bad boy with a heart of gold?"

"More like a puzzle that makes sense once you know the trick." I grabbed her worksheet. "See this part here? It's not as complicated as it looks..."

"Okay, so if you look at this part of the equation-" I pointed at her paper, but Camie was already distracted, bobbing her head to the low music playing from my speakers.

"Who even is this?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Sounds like something my dad would listen to."

"That's Queen," I said, trying to redirect her attention to the math. "Now, when you're solving for-"

"Queen? Like, the old British guys?" She sat up straighter on the beanbag. "No way, I thought they just did that one sports song."

I set down the worksheet. "Please tell me you're joking."

"The one that goes like..." She started clapping a familiar rhythm. "We will, we will-"

"They have dozens of other songs. Better songs." I reached for my laptop. "And what do you mean 'old British guys'? They're classics."

"Sure, if you're like, a hundred." She grinned at my expression. "What? I'm more into current stuff. You know, music from this century?"

"Current stuff," I repeated flatly. "You mean the auto-tuned garbage they play at the mall?"

"Oh no." She pointed at me accusingly. "You're not about to go all music snob on me. At least my playlist doesn't sound like a history lesson."

I opened my laptop, pulling up my music library. "We can settle this right now. Song for song."

"For real?" She abandoned her spot on the beanbag and dropped onto the bed next to me. "You're on, Aki-boy."

"Ground rules," I said, shifting to make room. "No skipping to the good parts, no talking during the other person's song, and you have to actually listen."

"Counter rule - we each get one skip if the other person plays something totally trash."

"Deal." I scrolled through my playlist. "I'll start easy on you. Something from this century, since that's apparently important."

She leaned against my shoulder to see the screen. "If you play Wonderwall, I'm leaving."

"Give me some credit." I selected a track. "Arctic Monkeys. 2013, so practically modern by your standards."

The opening guitar riff of 'Do I Wanna Know?' filled the room. Camie stayed quiet, true to the rules, but I caught her foot tapping along.

"Okay," she admitted when it ended. "That wasn't terrible. But now it's my turn."

She grabbed my laptop before I could protest, typing rapidly. "This is what real music sounds like."

A heavy bass line kicked in, followed by synthesizers. Some current artist I vaguely recognized from radio commercials.

"This is just noise with extra steps," I said when it finally ended.

"The skip rule exists for a reason." She nudged my arm. "Your turn, old man."

"Old man?" I pulled the laptop back. "That's it. No more going easy."

"Bring it."

We traded songs back and forth, each trying to one-up the other. My David Bowie was met with her Lady Gaga. Her Drake got my Kendrick Lamar. The homework lay forgotten on my desk as we argued between tracks.

"That's not even singing," I protested after her latest selection. "It's just talking dramatically over beats."

"Says the guy who played that weird British dude talking about space for six minutes."

"That 'weird British dude' was David Bowie, and 'Space Oddity' is a masterpiece."

She flopped back on my bed, spreading her arms dramatically. "Ground Control to Major Tom, your taste in music is dead."

"At least I don't need autotune to carry a melody."

"At least my playlist doesn't sound like a retirement home karaoke night."

I pulled up another song. "Here - no autotune, no special effects, just pure talent."

The piano intro to 'Bohemian Rhapsody' started playing. Camie sat up, ready to criticize, but then Freddie Mercury's voice came in.

She lasted until the opera section before breaking the no-talking rule.

"Okay, what is even happening right now?"

"Shh. Just listen."

By the time the head-banging guitar section hit, she was fully invested, dramatically miming along with the lyrics.

I watched as Camie threw herself into the performance, her hair coming loose from its messy bun as she headbanged along with the guitar solo. The warm light from my desk lamp caught the stray strands as they danced around her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, completely lost in the music.

"So this is why you're always playing these old songs," she said during the final piano notes, brushing her hair back from her face. Her cheeks were flushed from the impromptu performance.

"They're not old, they're classic." I tried to keep my voice steady, suddenly very aware of how close she was sitting. "Big difference."

"Whatever you say, grandpa." She stretched out on my bed again, this time with her head hanging off the edge. "Got any more musical history lessons, or can we go back to pretending to do math?"

"Pretending?"

"I mean, that was totally the plan, right?" She grinned upside down at me. "Get you distracted with music so I could copy your answers later?"

"You're terrible at being sneaky, you know that?"

"Nah, I'm amazing at it. You just see right through me for some reason." She rolled over onto her stomach, propping her chin on her hands. "It's kind of annoying, actually."

"Maybe you're just predictable."

"Me? Never." She reached for her phone. "Speaking of predictable though, we should probably actually do that homework. Ectoplasm's gonna kill me if I show up empty-handed again."

I glanced at the clock. It was getting late, but... "One more song?"

"Only if I get to pick."

"Absolutely not."

"Come on!" She sat up, crossing her legs. "I'll pick something good, I promise. No autotune."

"That's what you said last time."

"This time for real." She was already reaching for my laptop. "Trust me?"

"About as far as I could throw you."

"So you trust me a lot then." She typed something into the search bar. "Now close your eyes."

"What? Why?"

"Because I said so. Just do it."

I sighed but complied, closing my eyes. "If this is some kind of prank-"

"Shut up and listen."

The opening notes of "Never Gonna Give You Up" filled the room.

"I'm kicking you out," I said, eyes still closed.

"No you're not." I could hear the smile in her voice. "This is a classic too, right?"

"It's a meme."

"It's art." She started singing along, deliberately off-key. "Never gonna give you up..."

"That's it." I reached blindly for my laptop, but she pulled it away.

"Never gonna let you down..."

"I'm serious, Camie."

"Never gonna run around and-"

I lunged for the laptop, but she rolled away, taking it with her. My eyes snapped open just in time to see her nearly fall off the bed, catching herself at the last second.

"Ha!" she said triumphantly, holding the laptop above her head. "Can't stop the music!"

"Give me that."

"Make me."

I reached for it again, but she twisted away, laughing. In the struggle, her elbow hit the spacebar, cutting off Rick Astley mid-chorus.

"Now look what you did," she said, still grinning. "You killed the vibe."

"Good."

She stuck her tongue out at me, then glanced at the time display on the laptop. "Oh shoot, it's that late already?"

"Time flies when you're being annoying."

"You love it." She finally handed back my laptop. "Guess I should actually do that homework now, huh?"

"Probably."

She gathered her things, stuffing them haphazardly into her bag. "Thanks for the music lesson, teach. Even if your taste is totally ancient."

"Thanks for ruining the ending with Rick Astley."

"You're welcome." She paused at the door. "Same time tomorrow? I still need help with that math."

"Actually do the work this time?"

"No promises." She flashed that grin again, the one that usually meant trouble. "Night, Aki-boy."

"Night, Camie."

After she left, I sat there for a moment, staring at the door. The room felt different somehow - quieter, but not in the way I'd wanted earlier when trying to do homework. I pulled up my music library again, scrolling through the playlists.

My finger hovered over the play button, but instead I closed the laptop and grabbed my abandoned math homework. The answers seemed to mock me now, all correct but somehow missing the point.

"Shut up," I told the equations, and went to bed.

{A/N: I don't know why but this makes me want to write an oshi no ko fic so badly}