For the sake of safety, I do gotta say lol trigger warning lol. If you have a history of disordered eating or heavy-ass anxiety, it may be best to skip this one.
Um, hey?
She'd been told by him that she was not a pretty crier.
He'd told her a lot of things.
When crying, she was the type to quickly dissolve, sobbing so hard and loud that she made herself cough and gag. The sound was wet, as if it could slap you. The way her elastic face crumpled was apparently gummy and exaggerated, almost vaudevillian, and it heated to a splotchy red that stained her cheeks, her forehead, the rims of her eyes and nose.
Mitsuri felt that burning clench at her throat as her eyes spilled over, hot and sloppy. One shuddering, percussive breath after another; water and air both trying to leave her face as quickly as possible.
As she felt herself succumb to tears, looking down at that searing picture, she heard his words rise up again. How could she not recall? Gazing upon that smile like a slash, how could she not hear his voice? And then like clockwork, as she choked, she could see and hear what she looked and sounded like. What he must have seen and heard, to be willing to say that. Knowing she became that ugly then only made her agony worse, and the tears would churn anew. A vicious cycle that saw her coughing wetly and moaning into the floor, getting uglier and uglier, getting more miserable the uglier she got. She would scrape at her fleshiest skin with her fingernails, leaving trails of red lines across her stomach, over her thighs and arms, down her back where she could reach. Her breasts. She could occasionally bruise her own wrists from clutching too hard. All of it just adding to the ugly.
These episodes would last for at least an hour, wracking her until her throat was raw and her eyes throbbed. Another thirty minutes to recover and clothe herself, before she would timidly creep from her bedroom and croak vaguely to a wide-eyed Kyojuro that she was getting a cup of water.
This time was no different, getting swept up in imagining how she looked with snot bubbling from her nose and clumps of hair unraveling from her braids with every clench of her fingers. Just another ugly girl with no control. And there was his post, grinning up at her with his arm around someone else's shoulders. She was so petite. Her head came up to his chin.
Mitsuri locked in and let out another garbled, mucusy scream. She'd be here all night, at this point.
XX
"Oh my, you look terrible," a sweet voice chirped above her. The sound of a to-go cup being set on the table echoed near where Mitsuri had buried her head in her hands. She moaned creakily.
"I know, I didn't get much sleep."
Mitsuri only lifted her head when the smell of the to-go cup's contents wafted her way; sugared and cloying and warm. Hm, was that cinnamon? Sugar-free mocha? Oh, um, either way it smelled really good, hmm... As her gaze lifted, Shinobu smiled down at her with softness and sympathy.
The little table in the library where Mitsuri had parked herself and collapsed was tucked away from the main entrance, but wasn't buried so much in the stacks that Mitsuri would be invisible. Indeed, she was not someone who could ever be described as invisible; her bright, multi-colored hair did most of that heavy lifting, with her pastel-based wardrobe of enormous sweatshirts and drapey dresses coming second and her height coming third. At best she was a pink beacon; at worst, an unavoidable eyesore.
Shinobu slid the inviting cup towards Mitsuri, perfect sparkling lavender nails catching the light. "Kyojuro mentioned that you might need a little pick-me-up before class." Another sympathetic smile, deeper than the first. "I got you an Americano with soy and cinnamon. I didn't know how much sugar you usually put on top, so I grabbed a couple packets."
Oh, Shinobu. So pretty. So softly, daintily pretty. Her kindness only added to that overwhelming, prim, delicate loveliness. Owie.
"My heart!" Mitsuri echoed her thoughts out loud as she uncapped the coffee and began collecting the pale yellow packets Shinobu offered. "You make it hurt so much! You are so sweet! The sweetest! The most-est sweetest-est!" Shinobu's laugh in response to the praise was a tinkling sound, feather light, genuine.
"Make sure the boys don't hear you say that," Shinobu said. "They'll start to complain about preferential treatment."
Mitsuri continued doctoring up her drink. "I don't think it counts as preferential treatment if it's true." She took a test slurp and mused for a moment on the taste. "It's not like I get despotism because of it or anything."
"Nepotism," Shinobu corrected, glancing down at her phone and thumbing through a text message, probably from one of the boys.
Mitsuri let out a giggle at her mistake. "Right," she grinned. "Nepotism." Sometimes, the words got mixed up, didn't arrive on time.
Shinobu's phone received another text to the conversation she had open. Which boy was it?
The boys, oh, the boys. What do you get when a Rengoku, an Uzui, and a Tomioka walk into a bar… Sweet, horny, stupidheads mostly. All friends from the same gym, united by Mitsuri's friendship with Kyojuro and Shinobu's acquaintance with Giyuu. Weird, how that all seemed to shake out.
Mitsuri softly slurped at the foam pillowed at the rim of her cup, feeling the fizz evaporate off of her upper lip.
The sound of Shinobu's nails lightly tapping against the glass of her phone, the clicks comforting and feminine, filled the table. For a minute, perhaps. Or two.
"Was it him?"
In another conversation, Mitsuri would have stiffened, would have felt a sheen of nervous sweat break out, would have stammered incoherently. But Shinobu knew, probably more than anyone else here. She didn't know all of it, but she knew enough. Shinobu had her own demons to stare down, and could smell other peoples' as if they were perfume or a disease.
On the next slurp, Mitsuri broke through foam, hitting the actual drink.
"It was nothing. It was so little." She laughed a little too brightly and loudly, a clanging sound to Shinobu's tinkling. But even when her laugh was real, they tethered to the ends of that spectrum. "Yeah."
A gulp of drink, more out of nervous habit than anything. Actually, a little too much drink. Mitsuri surprised herself with the little cough and choke as her coffee sloshed against the back of her throat at just the wrong angle. She began to laugh through the cough, still trying to get words out. "He just...oh gosh...it was just a...he didn't even...call-"
"Mitsuri, oh my, just take a breath, for goodness sake!" Shinobu said, incredulous and mothering. Mitsuri laughed and coughed some more. "Are you okay?"
"N...NO!...I'm fi...fine!" The cough was subsiding, but the laughter continued to bubble. It was just funny! "I just...swallowed wrong! Oh GOD!" One last pulse of coughing wracked her system, and then she was fine.
Mitsuri crumpled to the floor in an over-dramatic response to her experience, executing an almost perfect corkscrew fall. "That was so embarrassing! I could have died!" she cried, gesturing to the ceiling. Shinobu rolled her eyes from across the table, but a smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. No one could balance 'annoyed' and 'amused' quite like Shinobu. "You alright there, honeydew?" Mitsuri giggled. Even though the library carpet was probably old and dirty, it felt nice to be on the floor. It felt...supportive.
Mitsuri let the surge of warmth fade out before saying, "I just saw a post." Her fingers found some loose carpet strands and began to fiddle with the fibers. Something to occupy them.
Shinobu let her lie there in silence a little longer before she muttered, "I hate him." That was how Shinobu revealed her loyalty. It was fiercely protective, when called upon. She didn't need to know all of the circumstances; just knowing that something had happened was enough to send her hackles bristling, her tone venomous, her gaze almost burning in its iciness. All that loveliness, softness, and beauty gave way to something actually damaged and cruel. It was impressive.
Mitsuri wanted to respond, but held off. She felt the buzz from the fluorescent lights overhead in the back of her eyes.
Another text to Shinobu's phone, followed by one that dimly vibrated both of their phones. Mitsuri took that as a cue to sit herself up and scrabble to her feet, glad for something to reach for other than the carpet. It was the group chat, an offer from Giyuu to meet up at a party that night, hosted by some gym friend. Apparently a "cool person party". Clearly it was a Tengen-dictated text; Giyuu wouldn't know what a cool person was if they hit him in the face.
Wordlessly, Mitsuri typed in a cache of smiley faces and sparkling hearts as affirmation.
Shinobu's eyes flicked up over the top of her phone.
"Mitsuri."
"No, I'm all good now, I promise! No more choking and dying, see!" Mitsuri posed brightly. "It'll be fun!" Her sunniness was a weak facade. Both girls knew it was hollow; even without swallowing coffee the wrong way, Mitsuri's voice was clearly raw from her previous night of tears.
"Mitsuri." Her name came again, softer, but with a plea attached. All venom gone; nothing but true kindness for her friend. How did she manage to switch modes like that, and so quickly? "We don't have to go. We have all day to decide." Shinobu then got that funny look in her eye, almost a glint and a tilt. "Besides, you know Giyuu is going to forget to send us the address."
An actual smile from Mitsuri. "Our poor dumbass," she said affectionately.
She took in a breath, released it. Her back straightened; she stood a little taller. She felt...cleaner. "I am okay," she resolved quietly. "I am."
Shinobu eyed her shrewdly as she began gathering up her purse and her enormous book bag, phone in hand. "I know you are. But you don't have to distract yourself to avoid your problems, Mitsuri." Owie, a little too close. She chuckled and said so, heaving her backpack onto her shoulders, noisy with all its keychains. Shinobu didn't exactly get that part, that other people were a joy to be around, were safe; being alone was dangerous.
"And hey." Shinobu squared herself off in front of Mitsuri, blocking her path and halting the arm reaching for the coffee. The top of Shinobu's head barely reached Mitsuri's chin, but she could probably stop a train from moving if she wanted to. It was insane how intimidating someone so small and so beautiful could be. "Whatever you saw of him, it doesn't matter. He didn't love you enough to deserve you, he didn't meet the standard. He didn't pass the test. It's all on him, not on you. None of it. He's a fucking gremlin."
Gosh, even swear words were so pretty out of that mouth.
Mitsuri's hands went up in surrender, her face sheepish. "I know, I know, you're right, you're right." She brightened with a thought; a wicked, delicious look spread across her face. "Besides, isn't it more fuuunnnnnnn to get over someone by getting under someone else?"
A rueful grin from Shinobu as they began making their way out, followed by a hip check. They giggled and jostled.
Shinobu was right, but still. But still. Mitsuri's heart thudded traitorously and painfully away in her chest, mumbling a chant of who actually deserved what. The phantom lines at her abdomen stung.
XX
"Mitsuri, are you almost ready?"
A shriek from Mitsuri; she was not almost ready.
"Yes! I am! I just have to put on this top and some mascara! Five minutes! That's all I need!"
Kyojuro's disbelieving noise of assent was enough to go on, if she rushed.
"Pressure's on!" she whispered to herself. "You can do this!" A quick shimmy into the black disco pants she had been already eyeing was followed by a pause over the shirt options. Shinobu had mentioned that she should wear one of the crops at the back of her wardrobe, but… Her hand ghosted over her stomach, fingers lightly grazing the skin available over the high waistband. An unconscious reflex, at this point. Thankfully, the disco pants were tight; she felt sucked in. Maybe a crop top wouldn't be so bad with these pants, one that was just longer than the rise would be okay. Umm… Which one… Did she even have any?
"Mitsuri?" A jangle of keys accompanied Kyojuro's call. "Come on, we're already going to be late!"
She squealed again and instinctively snatched an oversized, pale pink turtleneck. No time for a crop tonight.
"Kyojuro!" she called indignantly as she shoved her head in and let the soft fabric swallow up her heavy chest from view. "Haven't you heard of a thing called being fashionably late?!"
A bark of booming laughter was his reply, followed by a renewed jangling of keys. What was he, a zookeeper?
"I am neither fashionable nor tardy." He was too literal for his own good sometimes, she thought with a huff. "Nuh-uh, you are too fashionable!"
She'd have to do her makeup in the car, what a pain. As she made a mad grab at some cosmetics, she caught a glance of her face in the mirror, the specter of her face in tears flashing through her mind. Hideous. She dashed for her high tops and shut her closet as Kyojuro poked his head in her room, amber eyes blazing, moving to jingle his keys in her face.
"Kyo! Oh my God!" she gasped. "Stop! I'm a-getting, I'm a-getting!" He smiled as she moved past, finally ready to leave. "Thank goodness," he said, voice always just a touch too loud for indoors. "The boys have already started up, I want to catch Tengen before he throws up this time."
Mitsuri let herself be shepherded past the threshold, knowing she'd take another ten minutes if he left her to her own devices. "He's done it this early?" she glanced back up in his direction.
"What do you think?" he replied pointedly, their breath visible as he locked the door. Crap. It was colder than she thought it was going to be. She found she was cold often, these days. Too late to grab a jacket though, as Kyojuro was already striding towards his parked car. Oh well, she'd manage. Mitsuri doubted she'd spend any time outside, anyway, as she jogged to join him. She always managed to manage.
What was there to do outside, anyway, with these friends of friends?
XX
"What do you mean, there's an outside?" Mitsuri whined.
Kyojuro shifted gears and put the cark in park, then turned her way from the driver's seat. "Apparently most of the party is happening in Gyomei's yard. I have never been here before, but people at the gym say it is truly spectacular. We are sure to have a good time!"
Mitsuri flung open the passenger door and grumbled. Gee, that would have been nice to know before they'd left.
On the ride over, a couple things that would have been nice to know before they'd left decided to make themselves known. The revelation that she was expected to be outside for most of the evening was annoying and potentially troublesome, her pink turtleneck worn soft and thin with age and washing machines. A more potent worry was the text she had received from Shinobu, that a minor emergency had arisen with one of her younger sisters and she would be late, leaving Mitsuri in a bit of a lurch of people to glom onto. The last was that there would be food.
Mitsuri was a very friendly, social girl, but found herself shy among strangers. New acquaintances always expressed surprise when she revealed herself to be introverted; she blamed their preconceptions on her vibrant shades of hair. For some reason, people assumed you were begging for attention if it was colored at all.
She and Kyojuro crunched through leaves and gravel as they made their way to the front door. The house rose above them, inviting with its lights blazing and audible party chatter. Gyomei owned the gym that united all of the boys and was revered among his clients; Mitsuri gleaned that he was someone who was generous with his success and who was devoted to the physical, emotional, and mental betterment of others.
She shivered a little as Kyojuro knocked upon the door before letting himself in.
As they made to slide past the door, the largest man Mitsuri had ever seen loomed into view. She actually had to crane her neck up to see his face, a sensation she was distinctly unaccustomed to.
...just what were they pumping into the water at that gym?
"Himejima! Ah! Thank you again for welcoming us into your home! Your kindness is legendary!" Kyojuro declared, radiating charisma towards the host.
Gyomei benevolently smiled down at him, a hand going to rest near the crown of Kyojuro's head, further dislodging the messily tied half-knot at the base of his skull.
"Rengoku, you are of course welcome. And who have you brought tonight?" Gyomei's face angled toward Mitsuri, and only then did she notice something about his eyes. A lack of focus, or something not quite centered, maybe?
"My roommate, Kanroji Mitsuri!" Kyo boomed from her side.
"Hi there!" Mitsuri piped up. "Thank you for having us!"
She was also treated to a palm to the head.
"Kanroji, you are most welcome. Please, I will show you in."
Introductions made, she politely followed Gyomei through the entryway, making note to keep her shoes on upon observing Gyomei's feet garbed in warm tabi socks and wooden geta.
"He seems really traditional, but really nice," Mitsuri whispered into Kyojuro's ear.
Kyo hummed his affirmation and leaned over her shoulder. "Buddhist," he whispered back.
The short hallway opened on a larger, spacious room, replete with some couches, a stereo system mounted to the wall to her left, and a few decorative choice shelves. It was minimal, but tasteful. Mitsuri assumed that if she visited while a party was not raging, his house would feel peaceful, zen. She bet it smelled like mint or green tea. Another opening in the right of this room led to an open plan kitchen, currently housing some coolers, at least a dozen spirits and hard liquor bottles filled with varying heights of liquid, and stacks and stacks of the ubiquitous plastic red cups. Beyond the party trappings, Mitsuri could make out a pair of sliding glass doors, cracked ajar, either letting a chill in or helping the built-up party heat escape.
There were people, too.
They milled about the kitchen, grabbing or refilling drinks, collecting in very fit duos and trios to mingle. In the room with couches, clumps were gathered in friendly jostling and repose. Even out past those sliding doors into the darkness, Mitsuri could hear distant chatter and laughter and almost made out what looked like flickering. Things were a little noisier than polite company dictated, but no one was drunk enough to be rowdy, it seemed. Yet.
She recognized maybe half of the people inside, all Kyo's gym friends. There were so many of them, and they all seemed to adore each other.
The ones she knew beyond a shaky acquaintance were Tengen and Giyuu, but they were noticeably not in the room. Maybe they were out back?
Gyomei told them to enjoy themselves and glided past a man she vaguely recognized to choruses of gratitude and joy. The familiar man had scars, wild white hair, and wilder eyes; he'd parked himself on a couch, facing her direction, and was gesticulating wildly to someone with black hair. Kyojuro quickly excused himself and moved to join them; the white-haired man noticed and perked, immediately puffing up his admittedly very muscular chest with a smirk. As Kyo approached, the person in conversation turned. Mitsuri froze.
His eyes, his eyes.
He glanced up at Kyojuro, his expression moving from bored to mild interest. A black surgical mask rested over his mouth, his nose curiously remained free. He was delicate, but in a distinctly different way from Shinobu. Slight but quick, maybe. Muscular. He seemed...spring loaded? That sounded dumb, but Mitsuri didn't know how else to put it. The image of that man being spring loaded spun a new image in her brain and she blanched, feeling something deep in her stomach clench.
But oh, the eyes. Wide, angular. And colored. She dimly wondered if he used different colored contacts, his pupils seemed a little too pretty to be real.
He was very pale, but his skin wasn't sickly. His hair looked thick, shiny, soft. The more she noticed of him, the louder she had to shout to herself, "look don't touch." She wanted to press her palms on that pale skin and see if it felt like butter or cream; she wanted to drag her nails through that hair, she wanted to run the pads of her fingers up his back and...do what, exactly? Look, doN'T TOUCH. But mostly, she wanted teal and gold on her.
And then he noticed her staring.
He went, if possible, even paler; his eyes widened and it almost looked like his jaw slackened.
Her face flared in a blush.
Kyo ignored his indoor voice and boomed, "Sanemi! Obanai! Gentles, all!"
Wild eyes flew Kyo's way, his voice almost as loud. "What the fuck did you just say?" His face held a sneer, but it didn't seem mean. His face just looked stuck like that. Sanemi, was it?
"I believe it is some Shakespeare, I don't remember which play. Do you?"
The man in the mask had sputtered a little with his attention, snagging it very briefly on Kyojuro as his name was called, but quickly his gaze slid back to Mitsuri, almost as if pulled against his will. She found herself feeling shy with those eyes on her, lingering alone in the doorway with nothing to do and her one friend occupied, so she decided to slink into the kitchen.
"Uh, that really narrows it down. How fucking helpful." Sanemi's voice was still clearly audible from the next room over.
Why wasn't Shinobu here? If Shinobu had been here, Mitsuri wouldn't have looked so insanely awkward. Now, she looked like a freak!
Mitsuri leaned against a counter, pressing a hand to her heart. Her blood was racing. Obanai, Obanai. A dumb meme flashed briefly in her mind and she couldn't help but mimic it with an incredulous laugh. "I'm in danger," she murmured. Oh my. His eyes were so cute. Like, SO cute. Cute enough that she felt like she already knew what the rest of his face looked like, which was cute.
She pressed a hand to her cheek, finding it very warm indeed. Time for a drink. Oh, he was cute.
Once armed with a vodka-Diet-Coke-with-ice in one hand and a 32-ounce can of light beer that tasted like piss for Kyo in the other, she thought she felt brave enough to return. One more bracing breath gave her enough of a push and she stepped back into the room.
Kyojuro had both of his arms extended on the back of the couch as he leaned down, lost in a diatribe on protein powders. His captive audience was angled to look up at him, which meant the guy with black hair was already mostly facing the entrance from the kitchen when Mitsuri emerged. Their eyes met immediately as she came into view; Mitsuri's face flared once more; his pupils dilated.
Oh no, oh no, oh no. Uragfhdnjlhsffnakdkdfj. She short-circuited.
"Those flavors tend to work better for me, what about you, Obanai?" Only once Kyojuro directly asked a question did he notice that Obanai's attention was elsewhere. He followed his gaze. "Ah! Mitsuri!" he welcomed.
She started before meekly scooting towards him. "I got you this!" she chirped. "They've got a lot of liquor, but not much in the light beer category. I hope it's okay," she belatedly added.
Kyo laughed warmly. "What do you mean? Of course it's fine!" He popped the top with a satisfying hiss and slurped away the rushing foam. Tossing an arm over her shoulder, Kyo asked, "Mitsuri, have I introduced you yet?" She shook her head; Obanai's gaze was palpable, almost an actual physical force pressing against the side of her face. She must be so red, oh she could feel that she was already sweating.
"Ah, my apologies! I always forget that you have not met the whole gym yet. This here is Shinazugawa Sanemi'' the man with the wild eyes bared his teeth at her, "and this is Iguro Obanai." Her cheek almost turned with the pressure from that multi-colored gaze. "We have all made a weight-lifting pact where we meet a few times a week and work out together!"
Sanemi, for color commentary, reached a hand to ruffle Obanai's hair. "But not all of us are lifting the same!" he smirked, earning what looked like a very pissy scowl. Obanai roughly shoved Sanemi's hand away with a snarky retort and ducked his head to comb it back into place.
Kyojuro, undeterred, said "Boys, this is Kanroji Mitsuri, my roommate! We live together!"
Obanai Obanai Obanai Obanai Obanai-
Mitsuri squeaked out a hello as Kyojuro's arm tightened around her neck in embrace.
"Oh really, I never would have guessed," Sanemi sniped, one corner of his mouth tilting upward. He gave her a brief once-over. "Ah, the famous Kanroji, finally here in the flesh." His eyes intensified, if that was even possible. "So what's the deal? Why haven't you joined the gym? Why don't you work out with us?" he asked in rapid succession.
She fumbled for a response, caught in a nervous giggle. "Oh! Um, well I just- I tend to be working on stuff when Kyo leaves, and-"
"Are you two fucking? Is that why you don't want her around, Kyojuro?"
Mitsuri froze as Obanai's face jerked up, the weight of the heterochromatic gaze an anvil. Kyojuro laughed good-naturedly, not noticing a thing. "Nope! We've just been friends for so long that it made sense to simply live in the same place! She is more than welcome to accompany us whenever she pleases!" He jostled her with his arm still around her neck.
"How long have you known him, Kanroji?"
A shiver crawled up her spine as she turned to face him.
Obanai addressed her politely but with his full attention, the way a person speaks to someone in a group who finds themselves routinely talked over. She shed Kyo's embrace. His voice was pleasant and reedy, not quite as thin as she would have assumed. It was warm, almost as magnetic as his eyes.
"Um! Since high school! We were in a couple classes together our first year, and that was it!" Time for a nervous swallow of her vodka coke; she seemed to be swallowing nervously a lot today. "He and I spent a lot of time pretending to date so people would leave us alone."
This caused an aggressive outburst from Sanemi, who snatched at Kyojuro. "Ah, too much attention for this hot boy? I bet you couldn't keep anyone away from you!" Keeping drinks held high, or not, they began to jostle each other noisily and playfully.
Obanai let out a shout of protest and beat a hasty retreat around the arm of the couch as Mitsuri took an immediate step back to clear herself from the blast radius.
"Whoa, watch it!"
Obanai snatched at her sleeve and yanked her back as Sanemi and Kyojuro continued to roughly tussle their way, moving into the kitchen and beyond to the backyard. She stumbled, managing to hold her drink aloft. "Sanemi, you asshole! You could have crushed Kanroji!" he griped loudly past her, acidic.
Only after the guys had moved their splash zone elsewhere did Mitsuri realize both she and Obanai had flattened themselves against a wall, Obanai still clutching her sleeve. Mitsuri had just about boxed him in, her back pressing against his shoulder. "Oh! I-" she turned her head to apologize and realized their proximity was much closer than she had thought. Much closer.
The tips of their noses collided as they both swiveled their attention towards each other. He was just a touch shorter than her, still about eye level. His eyes were even more consuming up close, framed by dark lashes. Their eyes couldn't have been more than six inches from each other. Which meant that their mouths were closer. She dimly registered the swell of her ass brushing against a hip bone.
They both immediately colored. Obanai flinched into action; his hand adjusted to close around her bicep, almost holding it up to offer her balance. "Kanroji, I am so sorry," he breathed from behind his mask. Obanai looked so flustered that he almost seemed dizzy. "I didn't mean to- I apologize for grabbing you-"
She zipped to clear his space, frantic in her own apologies. "Oh no, please! I-Iguro, I'm so sorry! I bumped into you! It's all my fault!"
They stood there like that for a moment, each trying to grab blame for themselves and unsure of how to continue. Obanai shifted his weight from one foot to the other, distinctly uncomfortable.
She knew it, she had already blown it. Already too much, already too big.
Guys like him never liked girls who looked like her. To be fair, he dressed like someone who had a very specific type: skinny black jeans, black Doc Martens, a slim cut yet long striped shirt, presumably his black leather jacket getting swallowed by the couch. She probably wasn't wearing enough eyeliner to interest him, anyway.
Probably too tall, anyway. Too...pink.
She gently retrieved her arm from his grip and took a big, nervous gulp from her drink. "Um, I'll leave you to it. I probably need to check on Kyojuro," she smiled, not wanting to leave but not finding any reason she could stay.
"I should go with you."
Obanai seemed to have spoken without planning; his eyes looked caught in the headlights of her incredulous gaze. "I-I mean, Sanemi can get a little carried away. And if Uzui is out by the fire pit, then Kyojuro might literally end up in flames." He faltered a little as her head tilted. "That is, if that's okay with you. If I can accompany you."
Mitsuri's cheeks were warm; a pleasant feeling lodged itself behind her ribs.
"YES! Of course! Please! I would love some company!" she agreed, a touch too enthusiastically. "I mean," she amended, "I don't know many people here. I hate that feeling of trying to float up to new people, so now that I know you, yesofcourseplease." She felt herself rambling. "I mean, oh gosh, please don't think I'm awkward, I promise I'm not that awkward! But, do you know what I mean? When you feel a little stranded? My friend Shinobu is gonna be a little late, so I feel so weird and lost. The only other gym people I know through Kyo are Giyuu and Tengen. WAIT! Duh! Of course you know Tengen! Is he already here? Is he out back? Did you say there's a fire pit?! Oh gosh, that's so cool! Who's all out there? Are there a lot of people? Is Kyo gonna be okay?"
For some reason, Obanai patiently waded through her word vomit, his gaze level and intent upon her flustered face. His eyes almost looked like he was smiling.
"I know exactly what you mean," he said, once he had a polite opening. "I don't find it very easy to talk to new people either. Have you seen the backyard?" Mitsuri shook her head, clutching her drink and hands to her chest in a habitual comfort gesture. "Here, let me grab my jacket and I'll show you. We'd better go to Kyojuro's defense," he offered.
Relief and anxiety fought for control in Mitsuri. "Really? Oh, that would be so cool. But you don't have to- I didn't mean to say all that, if new people stress you out, I didn't mean to- you don't have to take care of me, just because I embarrassed myself! See? So awkward!" She gulped as he slid his leather jacket on. Oh my god. He was so cute. And cool.
He flipped his hair from where it was trapped under the collar of his jacket. "What do you mean? You don't stress me out at all. I just-" he caught himself, before glancing away. "It would be cool if we stuck together. Tonight. I'm not that wild about most people here, so…" he added, mumbling. His gaze anxiously slid back to her eyes.
She felt like a hair dryer tossed in a bathtub.
"Y-yes," she managed. "We can be each other's buddies. Our buddy system."
He tucked a strand of his hair behind an ear. "I'm Obanai," he said.
She fiddled with her fingernails and the rim of the plastic cup. "I'm Mitsuri," she said.
LOOK DON'T TOUCH AAAAHHHHHHHHHIKERGNJLDFSNGSFKDM
Some songs I listened to while writing:
Rooting for my Baby - Miley Cyrus
No Wind Resistance! - Kinneret
Dream Boy - Beach Bunny
i was all over her - salvia plath
Star Shopping - Lil Peep
cotton candy - YUNGBLUD
striptease - carwash
Emo Boy - Ayesha Erotica
Feel free to hang out, chat me up, or criticize my taste in music. Except for Ayesha Erotica, she rulez rawrXD.