[an] This idea kinda came out of nowhere and it pretty much wrote itself.
First person, Suguro's POV... lots of slurring things together. Also, Tsundere!Suguro? Insecure!Suguro? IDK!Suguro? orz
edit: I forgot to put line breaks xD Oops.
"...Can y' repeat that?"
I'm pretty sure I'm not dreamin' or nothin' 'cause I swear I woke up this morning, showered, brushed my teeth, meditated, jogged... and here I am, tryin' t' study and Okumura comes along like usual, botherin' me with his endless blabber. I don't normally care 'cause he's a harmless thing—not harmless t' my grades, if that's what you're thinkin', but harmless overall. Everythin's normal 'cept that my mind's reelin' and he's holdin' my hands, face a little red, lips quiverin' as he clutches t' my fingers.
"Um," he smiles in a way that I know he's nervous, canines flashin' all awkwardly, but I have no fuckin' idea what's happenin' right now while he fiddles with my numbed hands and blushes like he's—like he's—"I said I like you."
Confessin'. "Wha?" is the only thing that comes outta my mouth and my mind's blank as he takes a deep breath t' calm himself down. Okumura's kiddin', right? "'S this what Shima put y' up to?" I scan the room, pretendin' like I'm lookin' for pink hair, really tryin' t' direct my attention away from the momentarily-insane-half-demon in front of me. "'Cause I don't think this's funny."
Okumura shakes his head, turnin' into a whole new shade of red. "No. This ain't a joke. I li—"
I shove a hand over his mouth and my ears are burnin' up so fast that I'm surprised that my piercin's don't melt. "I heard ya the first time," I mutter, wonder right then if it was a good decision to get up this morning. My mind's clearin' up and it's sinkin' in that he—Okumura, the brash idiot who's simultaneously the spawn of fuckin' Satan—has feelin's for me. "...Well shit." A headache's threatenin' to smite my brain and my fingers find their usual spot, pinching the bridge of my nose in the hopes that it'll calm the beast. No words are comin' t' mind as I try t' put my own feelin's on the table without crushin' his. "Y' sure ya like me?"
He nods furiously.
"Can ya tell me exactly what y' like about me?"
The regret sinks in when he sucks in air and goes off in a rant about everythin' about me that even I don't know. He likes my hair. Piercin's. I'm smart. I'm cool. I draw "awesome." I'm nice. I'm dedicated. I'm hot. My shoulders are broad. My hands are big. My eyes are warm. My smile makes his stomach twist. And he had a dream that... "I was with you and you were riding a black horse while I was on a brown horse. Your shirt had two buttons undone and there was a sunset that made your eyes sparkle—" that sorta thing.
Fuck if my face isn't bright red right now. Never particularly thought that Okumura had the capacity to fantasize about that sorta thing and I never particularly wanted to know it either.
My tongue's curled and ready t' tell him, "Sorry, Okumura. Don't really like y' that way," but his eyes are wide and attentive and his tail's kickin' up a storm back there. I feel like a fuckin' sinner just thinkin' about crashin' his dreams right after he gathered the balls to come up t' me and profess his undyin' love for me or whatever shit he was spoutin' a couple'a seconds ago. I'm a little impressed that he came out the way he did—not impressed enough t' suddenly fall in love with him, unfortunately. Or in this case, 'like.'
I rub the back of my head, eyes fallin' t' my nearly completed work, wishin' that it was the only work I had to complete right now. I can't bullshit my way outta this without bringin' drama so I mutter, "Really?" The migraine's startin' t' throb behind my eyes and I close them, musterin' up the courage t' go through with breakin' the guy's heart. My eyes fly open when I feel somethin' brush my forehead, my face breaking out in fire when I realize that Okumura just kissed my forehead like we're domestic or somethin' already. I'm ready t' say somethin' but the words whittle away t' nothin' when I find that my headache's gone like it was some sorta figment of my imagination. "...Holy shit."
But Okumura doesn't look like he knows what he just did, smilin' sheepishly like he didn't do anything t' make it disappear. "It looked like it hurt, so..."
"Never mind," my mind's clearer now—but even more troubled than earlier. "So... y' like me," I repeat like a broken record player and he furrows his eyebrows, lookin' like he's tired of repeatin' the same line over and over again. Maybe it's the hope that this'll keep goin' in circles so I can somehow weasel my way outta this situation t' have more time to think at home.
"So..." Okumura mumbles, "what about you? You can say you don't like me or whatever. I'm not gonna cry." That's not what it looks like to me, not with how his eyes are going wet.
I ain't a heartless beast but I don't wanna lie t' him either.
Shit.
"I... don't like ya like that," I start tentatively, testin' the waters as his tail stills. "But maybe... I wouldn't mind tryin' it out." He perks up and the relief's clear as day when the knot in my chest unwinds itself. I don't see it comin' when he tackles me to the floor, knockin' over a chair, but he doesn't seem t' be givin' a shit with how damn excitedly his tail's flailing and his face's rubbin' into my chest like a cat or somethin'. What I said wasn't a lie nor a refusal but I'm not sure where this'll bring me exactly.
Least he's not cryin'.
Okumura won't let me go.
No, literally. He won't.
He's been latched onto my arm for the past three days, draggin' me t' places, talkin' 'bout whatever he usually talks about. We've gotten some looks about it, but I find that I don't mind. He's surprisingly quiet when he needs t' be—like when I'm studyin'. I expected that he'd go crazy or somethin' but he just falls asleep on my shoulder or the table, drools wherever he does. I feel like I should be reprimandin' him for not workin' on anythin', but it's nice when it's quiet for once. Maybe it's also how his face goes slack and innocent, snores occasionally, and his nose'll twitch every now and then. Not entirely sure. Almost drew on his face once, too.
I learn that he's got an obsession with sukiyaki—not surprisin', t' be honest. And then another thing comes up, that he's got an addiction t' manga. Also not surprisin'. The thing that's surprisin's that he loves makin' himself cry with the more emotional type'a manga.
As a matter of fact, it startles me when he starts snifflin' and tremblin' beside me. I almost freak 'cause it might be all my fault until he whispers somethin' along the lines of, "Misako, I can't believe you'd do that to Kinamori..." under his breath.
Then I have this—urge—t' put my arm 'round his waist and wipe his tears away, but I shake it off as quickly as it comes t' mind. The remnants of the thought is all but speckled heat on my cheeks and he doesn't notice since he's so absorbed in his readin'.
But it bothers me. My eyes won't stop driftin' off t' him. He's bitin' his lips, eyes wet, his voice watery and sad, and I do end up doin' what I thought I wouldn't do. He jumps a little when my hand settles on his hip, his blue eyes wide and shocked when they look up at me. "You're cryin'," I mutter, use my thumb t' brush the wet streaks from his cheeks. His face goes red but myface is red and this smile creeps up on his lips that creeps under my skin, settles there for the longest time in the form of a blush. He doesn't stop smilin' for the entire day.
If there's one thing I don't let him do, it's hold my hand. He'll be walkin' 'sides me, talkin' and talkin' about whatever the hell he talks about. Then—when he thinks I'm not payin' attention, his fingers'll round 'bout my forefinger and I can see his blue eyes peerin' up at me at the corner of my eyes, the tint of pink startin' at the bridge of his nose, spreadin' all the way to his ears. His fingers'll twitch forward and I'll take my hand away on the pretense of fixin' my hair. The disappointment that colors his face is one that I'd rather not see but I don't want anyone thinkin' we're together.
Sometimes, he'll trail me, holdin' onto the edge of my sweater like a little kid, not lookin' up at me. I let him do that, if that's any consolation. Other times, he'll cling t' my arm—which I let 'm do when there's no one around. Those times, I gotta stop walkin' 'cause I don't want 'm fallin' or anythin' like that. He's quiet then, peeks up at me beneath his eyelashes with this weird look that makes my stomach flutter and tighten. "I really like you, Suguro," is what follows that. Most of the time, I rip my arm away from him, goin' redder than a firetruck, but there're those rare moments that I'll stay there, tryin' my best not t' think of how warm and firm he is against my arm. Won't say anythin' either time. Okumura's doin' it all on purpose, I swear.
Not about t' admit that I'd like him t' hug me, 'cause I don't. Just gotta go through this 'til he gets over this little crush on me. Least, that's what I think until he has this grand idea of cuddlin' up into my chest, makin' me lose air faster than a punctured balloon and paintin' me dark red. My arms're frozen as my body's embraced by him and all the words turn t' smoke outta my ears when I spot how red his ears are. He's actually tremblin' against me, like he's ready for me t' shove him off. And I get myself ready t' do 'xactly that, but my arms end up tight 'round his waist, breath long gone, thoughts right down the toilet just as I feel his smile against my shoulder. I don't even know what I'm doin' anymore.
Okumura's gettin' more confident, that's for sure. He's huggin' me more often—but somehow he knows that I'm not all that fond of showin' it t' the world. He's not pushin' more than that, like he's waitin' for me t' take the next step. That's somethin' I do on accident.
Cue convenient papercut.
It's on purpose.
At least, that's what I think. He hisses a little when it happens, frowns at the slice of red on his forefinger. Okumura keeps doin' his work—pretendin' t' do his work by the sight of the doodles on the sides and the empty middle—and I stop him. I take his finger into my mouth instinctively and I don't even realize what I've done until he makes this noise at the back of his throat that burns all the way t' the bottom of my gut. I release his hand, blood rushing so fast against gravity that I'm dizzy and speechless at the same time. His hand's quivering and his eyes're closed tight, waitin' for me t' walk away once I've digested what I've done. For some reason, I don't. I manage t' smooth out the expression on my face, ignorin' the rabbit-like pulse behind my ribcage, and set a band aid over the cut instead. His mouth's scrunched and his face is redder than the bead of blood that'd slid down his thumb and it's so hard not t' think of kissin' him when he looks so vulnerable.
Shima asks me, "Bon, what's with you and Okumura-kun?"
Okumura answers for me, "Nothin'."
I don't push it further than that and I have to pretend like I don't see the crestfallen gleam in his blue eyes.
It's not intentional when I pull him close. It's just that—it was cold, he kept rubbin' his arms, his cheeks're a rosy red, and I was a little cold too. My arm moves without my mind's permission, pullin' him close t' my side, and he looks at me with such surprise that I feel like a fuckin' asshole. The shame tints my cheeks as I twine my scarf around our necks and let him stay close. He manages t' sneak up on me and gets his fingers 'round mine, and this time I don't pull away. It's warm when I squeeze his hand and it's clear that he's smilin' beneath the scarf that I let around his neck. I let him keep the scarf after so I don't get reminded that his mouth was right on it, but I see him wearin' it the next day 'fore he gets t' class and my pulse's goin' a thousand miles per hour at the way his nose's snuggled into it.
It's unfair. He keeps smilin' at me even when I don't bother t' smile back, buries me with words while my mouth's shut and my mind's wanderin' away. He doesn't stop tryin', gotta give 'm that.
He asks 'bout watchin' a movie, some action film or somethin' like that. I would'a watched it if Shima or Koneko tagged along but it's just me and him and this weird little not-thing between us. I wanna say no but my body says yes, and somehow we're in that movie theatre together, asses at the edge of our seats, forgettin' that the other person's alive right next t' us when we shout and laugh. But I don't forget. I feel his gaze burnin' my face every five seconds, see the genuinely happy sparkle to his eyes whenever somethin' explodes on the screen. When the movie's over, he's goin' left, right, up, and down 'bout it, reenactin' with his entire body like he was completely enthralled by the movie and not me durin' its showin'. He tries holdin' my hand and I ditch that idea, shove both hands into my pockets, lookin' like I didn't notice his attempt. He keeps up this smilin' face but his lips waver just slightly and I'm not sure what t' make of it.
His hand's warm as before when I grab onto it and run.
We're gonna be late for class.
He doesn't seem t' notice, cheeks takin' on this pretty—not pretty—shade of red while I glare at anyone that dares get in my way. Soon enough, he's runnin' beside me and I'm still holdin' his hand when we're in front of the class. I'm the only one pantin' when I open the door, drag myself into the room with an annoyed growl. The class gives us a stare as I release his hand and trudge over t' my seat.
Meanwhile, Okumura looks out of it. He's got this dazed smile and he sighs long and satisfied when he sinks into his seat. "Shiemi," I hear 'em whisper. "He held my hand." And I'm torn between wantin' t' strangle him and stranglin' myself as Shima muffles a snicker and Koneko's lookin' me up and down, tryin'a make sense of what just happened.
"We were gonna be late," I mutter under my breath, hands turnin' t' fists on the desk as I pin a red-hot glare at the back of Okumura's head. "Had t' hurry his ass up." Somethin' twinges in my chest when his tail freezes and falls limp but I can't find it in myself t' give a shit 'cause my pride's searin' my face and my teeth for a petty revenge that I feel like absolute shit about five seconds after it passes through my mind. A headache's gettin' ready t' make a shitstorm of my day as Okumura-sensee enters the classroom and starts a lesson that I can't focus on.
Ten minutes into the lesson, Okumura stands up in the middle of it, ignorin' Okumura-sensee's warnin', and walks over t' me, grabbin' my arm and draggin' me out the classroom.
"What're ya doin', Okumura?" I hiss when he closes the classroom door behind us, my body heatin' up and pricklin' everywhere at the horror of everyone seein' him drag me out. "I told ya that I don't—" he yanks me down by the tie and kisses my forehead 'fore I can say anythin' else. The shame turns t' somethin' else as I sputter words or whatever the noises that're comin' outta my mouth mean.
He hugs my head t' his neck, mumbles, "I heard ya gnashing your teeth and I knew you were having another migraine."
Right at that second, I feel like the biggest piece of fuckin' shit in the world because now my headache's gone and he's huggin' me even though I dismissed him in class. I wish he hadn't taken away the headache 'cause now all I'm focused on is how his heartbeat's goin' a mile a minute and his hands're shakin'. I don't know how it happens, but everythin' twists up—suddenly I'm pinnin' his wrists t' the wall and my lips're on his like I'm plunderin' him for everythin' he's got. He's not holdin' on t' me but I hear his nails diggin' into the walls and he's openin' up with no hesitation. He makes that noise he made when his finger was in my mouth and reality snaps back as the heat trills down t' my gut.
He doesn't look surprised when I cringe away, has this tired look t' his blue eyes that I've never seen before. I try t' think of it as a victory, that maybe he's finally gotten over this crush; but the thought clenches somethin' painful in my chest and I'm walkin' back t' class without a second glance.
When I tell him that it's over, he's all smiles. He tells me that it was nice, that I was kind for lettin' him do all the things that he'd dreamed of even though I didn't wanna do it myself. We both flinch when tears start streamin' down t' his chin and my hands're clenched at my side 'cause I know I don't deserve to push them away. He tries t' laugh and it ends up a bubbling hiccup—then another and another until I gotta turn away from his broken sobs 'fore I break down and take him back. I'm not right for him, I tell myself, not if I'm the one that's makin' him cry like this.
But then he says—right a'fore I leave—"I still like you, Suguro." It makes the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end because of what I almost say and I run away with poundin' feet like the sprint of a madman. My head's a fuckin' mess and I can't think right anymore when I get t' my room, throw myself on my bed and dig myself under the covers 'fore Shima and Koneko can even open their mouths. It's poundin' up there and I grit my teeth and bear it since Okumura's probably cryin' over a broken heart and I'm just a fuckin' dumb-ass who doesn't know anythin'. "I like y' too," I mouth against the pillow minutes too late and my hands ball up into fists that I wanna bash into my head.
It's weird seein' him again, knowin' that we broke up just the day before. He's smilin' and makin' stupid jokes but I can tell from that twitch of his mouth that it's not the same and his tail's not in it like usual. Moriyama's bright as always, a little oblivious t' Okumura's thin facade but lookin' a little worried at the same time. She touches his forehead and he waves her off, laughin' like it's nothin'. I try t' imagine him with Moriyama and it's a hard thing t' swallow 'cause it's so easy t' see. I see Kamiki watchin' him from the corner of my eye and then her and him holdin' hands comes t' mind. The pen breaks in my hand.
Everyone turns t' look at me but Okumura, and I don't realize I'm outright starin' at him until he slowly faces me, eyes immediately locked. My eyes flit down t' the broken pieces of the pen and I frown, shruggin' it off with a look so at ease that I almost fool myself. "Cheap pen," I murmur, "should get a new one." That makes everyone look away and the lesson continues as the ink bleeds into my palm like a parody of the blush that crept under my skin.
Somethin' leads me t' the rooftop a month or two later. Days went by like a blink of an eye and life kept draggin' despite everythin'. I'd just finished studyin' and decided that it'd be nice t' get a breath of fresh air—or somethin' like that. My brain feels like it's rattlin' in my skull once I get t' the top and I take a deep breath of crisp air t' empty my head for even five seconds, growl when it doesn't work in the least.
"Suguro?" Okumura's voice's behind me and I don't know how I didn't hear him clamber up the rickety old ladder. Probably jumped all the way up here. Last person I wanted t' see here, last person I wanted t' be stuck with all alone. Probably the same thing he's thinkin'. Doesn't stop my heart from tryin'a squirm outta my throat because it's weird t' say that I miss hearin' him say my name. "What're you doing up here?"
"Wanted some air," 's the only answer I can come up with. It's funny, I think, because I've been drownin' for days wonderin' what would've happened if I actually liked Okumura the way he liked me. Stupid, I think, because I'm just that fuckin' stupid that maybe some part'a me wanted to launch me off the top of this damned roof to erase all the stupidity that made Okumura cry the way I never wanted him to.
I don't hear 'm when he comes a bit closer, but I can smell it. The nervousness. The uncertainty. Or maybe it's all me. "Um," he hesitates and my arm burns from where his tremblin' fingers're reaching out for me. They clench and pull away. "Me too."
"Huh." Two-hundred and fifty reps, 's what my mind snarls at me, two hundred and fifty reps and four sets of fifty pounds on each part of my body. Keep on goin' until my limbs go numb, my brain's gone, and it's all the burn that I can focus on. But I ain't at the gym. I'm standin' in front of Okumura, who I can't look at 'cause I don't wanna remember what his face looked like when he cried.
"What've you been doing lately?"
"Nothin' really."
"Cool..." the small talk drifts t' nothin' as I let it die in the wind. It feels like the perfect time t' break out a smoke, just t' put a cherry on top of this ridiculously dramatic moment. Instead, I turn t' him, not exactly sure what I'm gonna do, and he doesn't look like he knows either 'cause he's lookin' at me like I'm a lion in a cage, his body tense, wearin' my scarf, no particular expression on his face. But he does have this stupid smile, the stupidest thing in the fuckin' world because I don't deserve any kind of smile from him.
And I say it bluntly, so blunt that it wavers like it wavered every time I took my hand away. But I don't want 'm t' cry. I never want 'm t' cry. I say that too, but that makes the dam break and he's smilin' again, forearm pressed up against his eyes like it'll stop the flow of tears.
He says that makes him happy. He says that he's so happy he's cryin'. He asks me if I like him because he likes me so much that it hurts and he doesn't think he'll ever get over it because I'm so nice, so smart, so cool and I'd never want someone like him and hell if I wanna hug him so tight that he forgets it all, kiss him so deep that I'm the only thing he feels.
Again it happens, huggin' him tight, kissin' him deep, and this time I don't care if he makes that noise at the back of his throat. He trembles a little in my arms when I don't let go, whimpers when I murmur, "I like ya, too," into his hair. He's still tremblin' when I kiss him again and the tears're still goin' like he's scared that I'll suddenly run away from it all. I wanna run away but my legs are lead and Okumura's cryin' 'cause of me and I've been runnin' away all this time. I grab onto his hand, kiss it, let our clasped fingers swing between us as I repeat, "I like ya," over and over again into his ear until he gets that I'm not runnin' this time.
When he kisses me, his fingers dig into my shoulders and I'm drinkin' in the glorious open warmth of lips and lips, tongue and tongue, and mouth and mouth. His tail's insistent, windin' 'round my arm like he wants me t' hold onto him forever. I owe him at least that much, 's what I think when I cling a little tighter. His body's as warm as it had been when he hugged my arm and it feels good to have him in my arms again. The tremblin's dyin' down as he buries his face into my shoulder, both of our faces a calamity of crimson hues.
It's then that I feel like such an idiot that I start laughin' at how stupid I am, how stupid this whole thing is. Okumura even begins t' chuckle, followin' me in chokin' laughter as we clutch t' each other—like relief meltin' off our bones. I nuzzle into his hair, grinnin' idiotically as I whisper somethin' along the lines of gettin' a black and brown horse for the both of us t' ride off into the sunset. He laughs even harder, blue eyes so clear as he caresses my jaw and kisses me one more time 'fore we leave the rooftop feelin' light as air. I don't mind that we're holdin' hands as we get t' the centre point, wavin' "see ya later" t' each other as we separate ways t' our own dorms.
Shima asks me again, "What's with you and Okumura-kun?"
I reach over, intertwine my fingers with Okumura, "We're together," and my heart swells up full at the smile that comes warm and surprised.
"Finally," Kamiki mutters in the sidelines and Okumura has t' drag me away 'fore I start another fight with her.
It all comes t' a full circle with him half-dead on the table, snorin' silently on the homework he has yet t' do. I watch his twitchin' nose and softened face as I pop open a sharpie. It's satisfyin' t' see my name written on his forehead and it's Okumura-sensee that points it out at the end of the day after Okumura keeps askin' me why people're lookin' at him funny. Okumura punishes me with no kisses for a week and his name written on my cheek. He caves in on his punishment three days in and kisses me when I buy him sukiyaki as an apology.
As I sit there, tryin' not t' look smug at how easily I made him forgive me, my chest twitches and the, "Sorry," I say isn't completely 'cause of the drawin' on his face.
He looks at me for the longest time, kisses my cheek as he takes my hand, quietly asks, "Is it okay if you'd unbutton three buttons instead of two when we ride those horses?" and that's all the forgiveness I need.