A/N: Prompt: "Do you think you could do a story where it's kinda reverse personality, like where Mishima is the suave, swag, flirtatious seme while Akira is the cute, innocent uke or something like that?"


Silently chewing on bread he bought from the cafeteria, Akira sat at his desk and tried to ignore the rumors swirling in the air around him. Several of his classmates, who were also currently eating lunch in the classroom, apparently found no problem creating theories about Akira's criminal background while he was in the same room.

This was only his second day at the school and already he wanted the floor to swallow him.

He finished his meal and stood. Head bowed and clutching the plastic wrap from his bread, he headed to the trash can at the front of the classroom.

As he walked around a group of students, one suddenly stepped back and bumped against him.

"Sorry!" Mishima automatically said, turning around to face the other student.

"Be careful, Mishima. That's Kurusu. Who knows what he might do," another classmate warned.

Mishima unabashedly glanced the supposed criminal over. "He looks like a regular guy to me." His expression shifted into a grin. "An exceptionally attractive one though."

Flustered, Akira hunched his shoulders further. From what he had noticed since starting school here, Mishima was a popular, charming volleyball player. Why would someone like him find the slouched, unruly-haired Akira appealing?

"Excuse me," Akira mumbled and turned away. He finally reached the trash can, dropped the plastic in it, and stuffed his sweaty hands into his pockets as he returned to his seat.

Pulling out his phone, he idly browsed the internet for a few minutes before slipped it back into his pocket. His gaze traveled over to Mishima, who had continued his conversation with his friends.

Mishima's endearingly round eyes shut briefly as he laughed at someone's joke. When he reached up to wipe away a mirthful tear, his rolled sleeve slipped to reveal more of the lean muscles defining his forearms. He then leaned back on a desk, allowing Akira to appreciate the other's pleasingly wider hips—

and oh shit Mishima was looking at him.

Despite obviously having caught the other checking him out, Mishima smiled.

A muted red covered Akira's cheeks, and he swiftly snapped his gaze to the window. Heart slamming against his ribcage, he cursed his lack of subtlety.

As embarrassing as the moment had been, however, the other's bright smile stayed on his mind for the rest of the day.