02

Yato

Of course, Yato recognized him right away. It was hard to forget the face of someone whose life he basically saved.

It was astounding, though: He somehow hadn't changed at all in the seven years since Yato had first seen him. The same tarnished amber eyes glanced sidelong at him from a thin, sharp face; the same wiry body sat poised in the desk chair, somehow graceful despite the dull classroom atmosphere, and the same pale skin shone in the evening sun.

Damn , he really was stunning.

The image of his face had become blurred after so long, but there it was again, sitting not two rows away. Yato almost wanted to laugh.

They were in the middle of a lesson, but Yato ignored the teacher in favor of watching Yukine. He was bent forward in his chair, leaning over, elbows on the desk, to talk to Iki in front of him. His lips were turned up at the corners in a smile, but his eyes were the same anguished orbs Yato remembered from so long ago. As Iki said something to him, he had to cover his mouth to keep a laugh from breaking through, and that time, the grin almost reached his eyes.

How fascinating it was to watch him. Much more interesting than—Yato glanced at the board—the Boshin War. Honestly, his already-suffering grades would probably drop dead if irritatingly gorgeous Yukine stuck around much longer. Not that he would ever complain, of course.

Yukine . 'The sound of the snow.' It just rolled right off the tongue like honey. Yato's own name was much duller, and not nearly as fun to say.

He could still picture Yukine's perfect expression as his lips had formed it, though. Did he even remember him? They'd never exchanged names that day, but he'd recognized him the second their eyes met. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all.

"Kamiya, if you don't plan on paying attention, I'd be happy to extend the lesson for you in detention ." When Yato turned my attention to the front of the room, Sensei was glaring at him, a history book in his left hand and a look of irritation twisting his already pinched features.

They had a long-term disagreement, Sensei and him. He wanted him to pay attention: Yato didn't give a shit. This stalemate often resulted in extended periods of time after classes wherein he was forced to clap erasers or stack chairs. Yato didn't really care, though. As if he could learn anything from that geezer, anyway.

"Sorry, Sensei, but my schedule's already booked. Would next week work?"

He looked about ready to strangle him, which was Yato's cue to dial it down. He really wasn't in the mood to mess around with him: Not when someone so new and interesting had only just arrived.

"Alright, alright; sorry. Please, by all means, continue the lesson. I'm rearing to learn about the Bornin—"

"Boshin."

"— Boshin War. Please, o' wise Sensei, lecture away." Yato smiled at him sweetly. Somehow, he doubted he bought it, but he apparently wasn't in the mood to play around, either. He turned back to his lesson with a slight grumble and a wary glance, but nothing else, and Yato was in the clear once again. Shame on him for trusting a single word that came out of his mouth. He really should've learned better by then.

Yukine was staring at him from across the classroom, though he quickly looked away and pretended like he was busy taking notes as soon as Yato glanced over. Cute. He couldn't help but smirk a little at his flushed face—and he wasn't about to waste a golden opportunity like that.

Pulling out a rarely-used notebook from the depths of my bag, he scribbled something on it before ripping the page clean and crumpling it up to toss at him. It hit Yukine square in the side of the face, falling to his desk as he whipped around to glare at him.

Yato gave a little half-wave and winked at him, mouthing, Open it .

He seemed extremely hesitant, as if the paper would bite him or something, but reached for the ball anyway. As his slim fingers pulled it apart and his eyes quickly skimmed the words, his face blossomed into a pleasant shade of vermilion and he shot a mortified glance Yato's way. Reaction number one: wide eyes, deep flush, twitching lower lip. I should really start a catalog of these.

As he watched, Yukine—still utterly discomposed—grabbed a pen and angrily scratched out a response before unsuccessfully chucking the note back. It landed on Bishamon's desk and she passed it over with a disgusted look, as if barely brushing against something Yato had made contact with would give her a horrible, contagious deadly disease. Yeah, well, sentiments shared, blondie.

Plucking the note from the desk, he unrolled it and snickered reading his hastily scrawled response.

how would u like 2 learn about something more exciting than history? like human anatomy? ;) - y

Don't throw notes to me in class. And I'm not sure what you mean. - Yuki

Awww, he signed his note with the little nickname I gave him! Really, too cute.

Yato bent over and etched a response before throwing it back to him with gusto. This time, he managed to avoid being hit and glared at him more intensely as he opened it, as if that would somehow help drive Yato away. Ha, you wish, snowflake. This is the most fun I've had all week.

i mean u and me, a little horizontal tilt-a-whirl, if u know what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) - y

His adorable and clueless response: Shut up and stop passing notes. I don't want to get in trouble on my first day. Shouldn't you be taking notes or something?

i'd love to take notes with u alllll. night. long. and u know what else is long ;))) - y

Their quaint little conversation continued with similar back-and-forth comments.

I honestly don't know what you mean. Seriously stop passing notes. - Yuki

cmon snowflake, this is way more fun than class. i want 2 get 2 know u better ;) - y

Please stop doing the... weird wink thing. I'll tell Sensei if you keep this up. - Yuki

just wait, pretty soon u'll b alllll over me. happens to every1 eventually - y

After that, he didn't write back, but Yato watched in satisfaction as Yukine slid the note between the pages of his binder with a petulant glare in his direction. The game had definitely begun.

As soon as the bell rang after class, Yato scoped out Yukine and followed him to his locker, leaning an elbow against it and caging him in. "So, Yuki-chan, what do you say to my proposal? I still didn't get your answer."

His face flamed brilliantly as he pulled books from his locker, studiously refusing to meet his eyes. "I have... no comment. I'd really like it if you left me alone."

"Awww, that's absolutely no way to talk to someone who has your lunch hostage!" Yato winked. "Besides, the frown ruins your cute face, snowflake."

This nickname seemed to rattle him much more than the other one, and he turned away in an effort to hide his embarrassment, though his blush shone clear as day on his slender neck.

Yato wished he didn't hide so much skin underneath that dreaded baggy sweater he'd added over his uniform. What could a guy take away from that? He looked like he should've been going door-to-door selling bibles or magazine subscriptions.

"Please don't say things like that." His voice lowered and took on a squeaky tone when he was flustered. More interesting and useful information. Now all Yato had to fix was the sweater—and the attitude.

"Don't be like that, Yuki-chan." He followed him persistently as he headed towards the exit with his bag over his shoulder. "I'm just being friendly ! Besides, maybe you could help me out with something."

Oops. He was only trying to get him to stay. He didn't actually have anything he needed help with—well, at least nothing decent .

Still, Yukine paused—though he seemed very hesitant and maybe a little scared—to look back at him. "And... what would that be?"

"Um..." Shit; think quick! "Studying! I have absolutely terrible grades, just appalling, and I heard from Sensei that you're a pretty good student."

That was a lie—he didn't make a habit of talking to Sensei, ever —but he had to say something to get his attention. "So can you maybe help me out? I'll do something for you in return."

"What, like return my lunch?" Yukine responded dryly, pausing by the school's gates with an irritated look.

Or buy you clothes that don't look like you came from a nunnery . "Sure, sure; anything you want."

They stood there, Yukine staring up at him studiously and Yato smiling (hopefully) innocently. It was so very hard to pretend like he didn't just want to jump him right on the spot and rip that stupid sweater into pieces with his teeth—but that was a thought psychopaths or cannibals had, and he was fortunately (probably) neither.

But apparently his veil of purity held up okay, because Yukine nodded after another second of hesitation and hefted his bag higher on his shoulder with a defensive shrug. "Fine. I'll help you study twice a week, but only at school or at my house. Understood?"

"Aye-aye captain!" Yato agreed giddily. A free invitation into snowflake's house? God, that boy had no clue what he was doing to him. "When can we start?"

He moved down the block towards a street crossing and Yato followed, not particularly caring how far out of his way they went as long as he secured an answer.

Yukine debated the question for a minute before answering carefully, lips pursing in an absolutely maddening way that had Yato biting my lip to keep from shivering. "Tomorrow, I guess. But I'm not well caught up on the material at this school, so I'm not sure how much help I'll be. You might just be better off without me for—"

"No, no," he interrupted hastily, "I'm sure you'll understand it all! Most schools use the same curriculum, anyway."

"Mmm... I guess." He seemed to like those words. "Then just come home with me after school tomorrow, and make sure you bring the textbooks for the subjects you need the most help in. I don't want to lend you mine since I just got them. And my parents won't be home so we'll be on our own."

He paused. "Yato, are you even listening to me?"

"Huh? Oh, uh... yes?" No . He'd been watching his lips. Mesmerizing . "You said your parents won't be home?" That was the only sentence he'd picked up. It was the only one that mattered, anyway.

Snowflake nodded. "Yes. And make sure you bring my lunchbox." He carefully pronounced each word and punctuated the statement with a sharp glare as they reached the crosswalk and he pressed the pedestrian button. "And don't pass me notes during class again. Otherwise, I won't help you."

You got it, snowflake. Any other conditions?"

"Yes. Don't call me snowflake."

Later that night, Yato sat on the balcony of his one-room apartment and stared out at the city.

His legs dangled precariously over the edge, but he wasn't afraid of falling. Heights had never been an issue for him. As he looked out over the houses and shops far below, the only thing he was worried about was where Yukine lived. He'd left him at the crosswalk, so he guessed he'd have to wait to find out until tomorrow.

Oh well. At least he had the house to himself all night. Well, every night, technically. He'd moved out of his parents' house when he was fourteen, earning enough money to support himself and rent out a cheap apartment by doing whatever odd jobs he could get his hands on.

It was a lonely and hard-working life, sure, but Yato wasn't really the type of guy to be sentimental—and his dirtbag parents fit (just barely) into that category.

Still, it would've been nice to have someone to just talk to or to gaze out at the cityscape with on nights like this. To feel warmth beside him and to hold someone's hand.

He didn't even have pets to hang out with. It was just him, all the time: Yato Kamiya vs. the world. Looking at his life as a whole, all he had was a shitty past, a boring present, and a doubtful future: three pieces of furniture, the clothes on his back, and two instant-ramen cups to his name. A singular unit in a singular household.

But… maybe that would all change soon.