Notes:
Blow me if you don't know me! It's another fucking flashback chapter! *are yall okay with that? No one has complained yet*
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Toji wakes with a start, sitting up so quickly that the cat is launched from her spot on his chest with a frightened yowl. There's a cold sweat on his brow and his stomach lurches violently. He's scarcely able to stumble to the toilet of the half bathroom in the hallway before throwing up.
From fear. Pure white-hot fear piercing through his psyche and into his dreams. His mind could be so cruel to him in his sleep. Usually it was something bittersweet and fleeting, a hallucination of a perfume or the sound of a high pitched laugh.
Tonight it was a menacing nightmare.
He'd been cast back to the warehouse again. He knew the familiar dimly lit room and the sounds of the drips, though it was much more amplified, as it always was when he had the dreams. Sakyo was with him this time, smiling and leaning against the table. Toji had told him to move over.
"You're in the way…You're getting all bloody."
"Shi-san…You always do these first."
Sakyo was holding a pair of severed hands, offering them to Toji.
He took them, walking over to the grinder to pulverize them into paste. Then he realized how much smaller they were than his own. Because they were yours.
That's when he woke up puking.
He spits, wiping his mouth with a groan. "Fuck…."
If only the real nightmare could be expelled so easily.
….
You're asleep in your bed, covers wrapped up tightly around your neck, when your door slowly swings open. There isn't a sound, no creak of a hinge or floorboard.
Something cold is pressed to your forehead. You don't even stir.
A low whisper instructs you by name to wake up. The familiarity of your intruder is the only comfort you find when you open your eyes.
Toji is at your bedside, his face drenched in sweat. His chest is heaving as he struggles to maintain his composure. There's a gun clenched in his fist. The barrel is drawn between your eyes.
With a voice that doesn't feel like your own, you whimper, a tiny broken sound between the cadence of his breathing.
"Wh-what…"
No other words come. You mutely stare back up at him, confused and motionless.
"There's a man in your room," he says, adjusting his grip so his hand shakes less. The tremors travel through the cold steel, reaching your skull.
"You didn't wake up when he picked the front lock. He already shot me in the head while I slept on the couch. He's using a silencer on his weapon, so there was virtually no sound."
"Toji, you're scaring me." Tears are trickling into your ears. You still can't force yourself to budge.
"You should be scared. There's a gun aimed at you now. Do you feel that?"
The barrel is icy on your skin. It slips against the sweat on your brow. Toji leans down, letting the light of the thinly covered window hit his face. He wants you to see that he's crying too.
"What are you going to do?" he asks.
Suddenly you realize what's happening. This is a training exercise. A critical one clearly. He's exposed your weak points and taken advantage of your unconscious state. You've never realized before how safe you've always felt here with him sleeping out on the couch to ward away any bad men. It never occurred to you that there would be anyone who could sneak up on Toji.
You try to think of anything you could possibly do to get out of this position. Your sensei has taught you many things about being caught off guard, and even how to fight someone who's wielding a knife. Guns were an entirely different story. You've never even seen one in person before. Slowly you realize there's nothing you can hope to do. That must be what he wants you to acknowledge.
"I'm…I'm going to die," you bleat helplessly. You're sobbing much harder now, faced with both the horror of your own fragile mortality ,and your dependency on him, a man you only met this year.
Toji withdraws the weapon, tucking it behind his back into the waistband of his pants. Then he scoops you up in both arms, squeezing so tightly that you can feel his heart against yours. Both are beating furiously, as if they're trying to break free to get to one another.
"You might…" he says finally. He lets you go, rubbing your biceps apologetically. "I was hoping it would be a long time before we had to train for something like this, kid. I'm so sorry."
"What the fuck is going on?" you demand, holding back the urge to take an angry swing at your caretaker for nearly scaring you shitless. No one likes being woken up suddenly, much less with an intruder drill. He's been on edge ever since you got home.
No. Before then too. Something had him nervous on the drive home, and at the railyard. This was about the fight.
"Toji?"
Your bed springs creak as he sits at the edge by your feet, and he sighs with exhaustion. "There's more you should know…About Sakyo."
"Like what?"
…..flashback…
When Toji went heavy handed during the ride-along with Sakyo, he was hoping to scare the whelp straight. Maybe give the little shit some second thought about who and why he was killing. He was only half right. Toji seriously misjudged the level of interest the young man had with violence. And now, with the knowledge that an entrancing dark stranger was working to make his messes disappear forever, it gave Sakyo something else to engross his time in.
For a while the boy did stop his marauding, playing along with his father's wishes for the time being until it could serve his advantage again. Thrill kills quickly lost their zest with his inability to connect with his victims or feel any empathy for the strangers who invoked his rage. He was already bored by the time his father had forced him to participate in the gruesome task of being left with Toji. That only focussed his motivation on a goal.
One night as Toji was elbow deep in yet another chest cavity, scooping out the insides as if it were a gorey pumpkin, he heard the rumble of one of the usually locked loading dock doors rolling open then closed. Someone was coming in unannounced.
Abandoning his current task, Toji reaches for the long-handled sledgehammer kept for separating the ball-and-socket joints of hips and kneecaps. Just in case he should need it for whoever walks in.
When the familiar face of Sakyo appears smiling through the swinging doors of the space Toji occupied, he lets his weapon fall almost dejectedly.
"What the hell do you want?"
"I brought coffee," Sakyo holds up a drink carrier with two cups. He was hoping to offer a small gesture of thoughtfulness. It seems by Toji's annoyed expression that he should have considered this to be an inappropriate time for a break.
"I'm on a time crunch here…Can't stop," he explains as he turns back to the half corpse behind him. This sudden intrusion is more than unwelcome. He hated having an audience last time.
"What are you doing here? Can't find anything better to do with kids your age on a Saturday night?" he asks as he 'accidentally' slings blood from his hands in a way that nearly splatters across Sakyo's new shoes.
The boy doesn't even flinch as he sets the drinks down on the make-shift operating table.
"I did go out. But they were all so dreadfully boring, that I simply couldn't bear their company any longer."
Toji scoffs, finding it hard to believe he himself was of any higher entertainment value.
"Not much happening here, kid. Just the usual. And I don't pause for coffee or chitchat."
"Understood. You can save it for after. I can see you're nearly done." Sakyo gestures to the four nearly full buckets.
Toji grits his teeth in a tight grimace beneath his mask, not caring if his irritation reaches his eyes. This punk kid is on his last nerve.
"I brought you something else, too." Reaching into a bag he'd been carrying, he pulls out a medical face shield. "This should work better than the mask, right?" You can at least make sure to keep blood off your face."
Begrudgingly, Toji finds himself accepting the gift, knowing he'd make good use of it. Although he showered after every body he worked on, he hated when his face got splattered. He never knew where these stiffs came from, it couldn't hurt to be more careful handling them.
Of course Sakyo had ulterior motives for his gesture as well. This way he can see Toji's face the entire time. He smirks triumphantly as he slides the window open, creating a small vent for him to smoke.
"You sticking around then?" Toji clarifies.
"If it's all the same to you. I won't be a nuisance." The boy lights a cigarette, making sure to blow the smoke outside.
Whatever, Toji thinks to himself. The longer he spends trying to figure the kid out, the longer he'd be stuck here. Maybe last time wasn't enough to convince Sakyo to keep away.
Toji doesn't hold back on the hand saw, making sure to choose his cuts at an angle in high cartilage areas to emphasize the ripping sounds of tendons. He tosses the discarded bits into the buckets with more force than needed too. After a few minutes of near silence, he gets back into his rhythm, making quick work of the last half of the corpse.
As he's sawing through the neck to separate the head, the smell of cigarette smoke makes him turn. Sakyo had sidled up next to him silently and was watching with keen interest. He smiles sweetly.
"Do you slice all the way through every time? Or do you ever cut partially and try to rip the rest off by hand? I bet you could do it if you wanted to."
"Uhh…." Toji hadn't ever considered that. It seemed so unnecessary. And cruel.
Sensing the man's reservations, Sakyo decided to try speaking the language Toji understood best: money.
"I want to see it. I'll pay you."
"How are you going to do that?" Surely the kid isn't being serious?
"My father has always found it easiest to have my accounts separate from his for my own expenses as they arise."
"So it's not your money," Toji's eyes narrow meaningfully. He doesn't want to take any heat for accepting cash under the table from the Kazahayas. That was just asking for trouble.
"Oh, it is. It's been there ever since I was thirteen. A birthday gift to welcome me into manhood," he tuts, ashing his cigarette on the ground. Toji has yet to reprimand him for lighting up in his work space. Sakyo has a strong feeling he isn't going to.
He knows he impressed him last time by suffering in stony silence without complaint. Toji must have been expecting him to bitch and moan, especially with his clothes being utterly ruined.
Sakyo didn't care about things.
"Do it for me," he says in a low voice, his eyes reflecting the cherry glow of his cigarette.
"It isn't needed," Toji rumbles back. The mutilation he performed is a perverse show for the boy. He understands this now. That's why he came back.
The brat even stopped for fucking coffee. He's definitely been sucking up the whole time leading to this.
"Three hundred thousand yen," Sakyo retorts.
Toji says nothing, but his lips part.
Sakyo's eyes pinpoint the blackness inside. "Please, Shi-san? I'm just looking for a bit of fun."
Toji resumes his sawing, struggling to save face. He swallows hard as he increases his speed. A trickle of sweat drips down his jaw.
Sakyo follows it as it falls to the corpse. The saw blade is more than halfway through.
His hand stops the motion, but he can feel a tremble in his fingertips slipping in the blood.
Three hundred–
SSHHHRRRPPPPP!
thousand.
The head is in Toji's hands, loose. He pulled it off without thinking about it. It hadn't even been that hard to do since the vertebrae were already cut. It felt like he was ripping a thick wet sweater.
There's a splatter of blood across the clear plastic of the face shield.
He looks to see if Sakyo is satisfied. Clearly he is. He's grinning from ear to ear like a lad at the circus.
"How was that? Good enough for you?"
Sakyo reaches forward, wiping blood from the shield with his bare hand. "Perfect."
"Good. Now hand me the black bucket." Toji plunks the head down noisily, wiping his hands on the black apron tied around his waist.
After a quick mix of concrete in the black bucket, Toji sets the head into the mixture, shoving it deep before quickly pulling his gloved hand free. He pops the lid on securely. There. Done and dealt with.
The last of the shoulders and torso were split between the remaining "body" buckets and sealed.
"Alright, that's that. So…" He turns to find Sakyo already walking away with a bucket in each hand. He was about to tell the kid to go piss off, but what the hell, if he wants to feel like a big man carrying shit to the loading dock, he'll let him.
In the meantime, he washes up in a sink in the corner of the room, watching in the mirror as Sakyo returns and picks up two more buckets to carry out. He whistles a tune lightly as he walks.
Toji cringes and splashes water on his face.
By the time the truck is loaded and idling, Toji again waits expectantly for Sakyo to leave, but the little twat opens the passenger side door and hops in.
"Is this your way of asking to come along again?" Toji asks without hiding his exasperation.
"If it's all the same to you–"
"I prefer to work alone. This isn't a fucking newspaper route, you can't just ride with me for this sort of thing," he interjects.
"And why not?" Sakyo pouts. He's getting ready to throw more money away to make the man give in to what he wants.
"Because it's more likely for two men to be caught than just one. Not everyone at these stockyards knows what goes on. There's usually only one person on the inside who's leaving the pens unlocked. I can't risk you being seen."
It was a lie, but reasonable at least. Take a fucking hint, you creepy little shit.
"Then you should want a second pair of hands to help you carry the bastard to make less trips," Sakyo points out easily.
Fuck.
"You're clumsy. You haven't had any stealth training."
Sakyo still doesn't back down.
"That didn't stop me last time. And I was sick to my stomach too."
Fuck off!
"I can't do my job and keep you safe! You're the boss's son, so you're automatically my responsibility while you're here. I can't focus on you and the drop offs every time. Do you get that?!" Toji roars.
With a slow grin, Sakyo leans forward, reaching behind his back.
"'Keep me safe?' I do appreciate the sentiment, but I believe you've forgotten who you're speaking to, Shi-san."
Toji hates that Sakyo is using his father's nickname for him, but before he can voice his true thoughts, the flash of yellow street lights reflects off gunmetal grey, and he sees the boy has pulled out a revolver.
"I keep it with me at all times. Even last week when I was here with you. So you see…No one needs to keep me safe," he chuckles.
All Toji can do is nod. He doesn't keep his gun on him at work. He's never needed to. It wasn't ideal to have on him if he ever got pulled over. He's not sure what message Sakyo is trying to get across, but it's deafening.
"Now drive," he instructs.
….end of flashback…
When he's done with his story, Toji has a hard time looking you in the eye. He never wanted you to find out about what he used to do, or the people he accepted money from. Or why. It was a deep shame he carried, and for good reason.
"Holy fuck…" you exhale shakily.
Suddenly so much made sense now. Like why he lived alone and had no friends to speak of. And how he wanted to get the hell out of the ring the minute after you'd gotten paid by Sakyo. Your instinct about that guy was right. He's a cold blooded killer.
And Toji….He has his own demons from those memories. It must be so hard for him to act like he's normal after all of that. He probably assumed you would leave if you ever found out too. No one in their right mind would want to live with an ex member of the yakuza.
He startles when you sit up and hug him tightly around his neck. You know how scared he must be, because you're terrified too.
"It's gonna be ok," you murmur, even though you have no idea if it's true.
His enormous hand swallows yours up, squeezing back. "I'm going to teach you how to disarm someone with a gun, okay?" his voice cracks, but you don't acknowledge it.
"Yes, Sensei."
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Junpei had come home to find his mother was called into work for an emergency case. This was typical for most weekdays for her. Working in one of the largest hospitals in this part of town meant being on-call almost every day to keep up with the level of injuries her ER received. Junpei had several nights a week that he was usually left alone, but he was old enough for her not to worry. He could cook for himself when he needed to.
Emboldened by the sudden privacy, and still buzzing from the goodbye kiss you'd cheekily snuck while out of Toji's view as you were dropping Junpei off, he pulled open his closet door. The girl's uniform you'd worn is still lying on the floor, right where he knew it would be. He picks it up, carrying it to his bed with him. He opens the top drawer of his bedside table and takes out the portrait of you that he drew. Lastly, the shirts from his backpack that he'd lent you and collected before leaving, he layers those on top since you wore them most recently.
He wishes he had a better picture of you than his own drawing. He didn't do as good as you did in capturing an exact likeness, but it's close enough to bring a smile to his lips. The next time he sees you, he'll try to find an excuse to take a real photo of you to keep. If that's okay with you, of course. Junpei sighs, breathing in your lingering scent from the uniform jacket you'd worn the day before yesterday. He allows himself to say your name, knowing there's no one around to hear him. Still, a blush spreads across his cheeks as he revels in the way you'd held him on your bed earlier tonight…And also let him hold you. Does this mean you're dating now? He bites his lip and makes a small sound of giddiness into the sweet smelling material.
You're such a paradox. The first time you'd met he was absolutely terrified of you, assuming you'd just be another bully to join in on the festivities pre-set by his worst tormentors. You could have…But you didn't have the same black hearts they did. From the first moment when you went to the roof and reached back for his hand to comfort him, knowing how afraid he was to face Himura, Junpei started falling for you. It only grew from there. You'd even gone so far as to mask your identity and crossdress to protect him from rumors that didn't even bother him.
"Fushiguro…" he sighs happily.
I should make him lunch, like he did for me, Junpei decides.
But first things first…. A pressing matter is at hand.
His body is already reacting to your scent lingering in your clothes. It buzzes his senses, sending into hypersensitivity. Drawing out your name even longer, he allows himself to kiss into the material, burying his face as his hands clumsily unbuckle his belt. Already throbbing, he grips himself in his left hand while reaching for the shirt he'd lent to you. He wants to feel you against him again. The desire to hear your sounds as he explores your body is driving him crazy. You're always so forward, the one to make the first move and leave him breathless. He longs to do the same for you, if you would be willing to let him try.
Greedily he heightens his fantasy, undressing you in his mind and listing every question he hopes to soon answer as it pops into his lurid subconsciousness. He wants to put his mouth on your body, to taste your skin between his teeth to see your reactions when he increases the pressure to leave a mark. Maybe you would like being bitten? Or sucked and licked.
"Fuck!" he exalts, spasming as he nearly cums from the very thought of tasting between your legs, but he edges himself back to pin that enticing notion and linger on it.
What would you taste like beneath his slow caressing tongue? Would you let him find out? He'd love to try going down and learning how to please you, or maybe use his fingers to coax you to reach your climax in his arms as he swallows your sounds in open-mouthed kisses. Junpei has already decided your taste will be something he loves more than anything else in the world. He doesn't even care if you don't want to do the same for him, he longs to lose himself to the privilege of devouring you if you'll allow him.
This time when the tension builds, Junpei doesn't cut it back, releasing himself into the shirt he'd been cradling moments before. Panting and sweating, he mutters your name again, hungrily suckling the edge of the second shirt, wishing it was any part of you.
As the aftershocks of his orgasm subsides, there is only glowing satisfaction instead of the panicked guilt of last time. He remembers you'd said "Toji isn't going to say anything about us…"
Us…
Again he jubilantly giggles at the thought of you acknowledging your budding relationship.
He should definitely make you something fantastic for lunch tomorrow. You'd gone through the effort to do the same for him, and even turned that into your odd way of showing affection when you let Himura take it. Junpei had to hide his knowing smile that day when he saw his bully running to the bathroom after lunch. That sight alone would be a treasured memory for Junpei for years to come.
After depositing the now dirty clothes into the hamper and washing his hands, he flicks on the lightswitch of the hallway and heads into the kitchen. There's a few things in the fridge he can use to make a nice lunch for both of you with minimal midnight cooking. As he rummages through the pans to find the right ones he needs, he hums to himself, imagining how surprised you'll be tomorrow. After whisking some eggs with mirin and turning on the stovetop to let a pan warm up, he grabs some leftover rice and some pre-cooked chicken wings from the fridge.
When he takes the emptied rice pot to the sink, something lying on the couch catches his eye. A satiny river of sky blue that caught the moonlight streaming in the window just right. His mother's favorite dress. It had been brought out for the first time in nearly ten years. She used to wear it whenever she and Junpei's father went out on their dates, leaving their son behind with a babysitter. His father always made it known that blue was most definitely Nagi's color. Junpei remembers how he would watch from his doorway as the two would practice their dance steps clumsily in the living room before going out for a night of partying together, all the while laughing as they bumped into the furniture, causing way too much racket for him to stay asleep even if he wanted to. The dress has been put away, along with the urn of his father's remains. Both were too painful for her to look at. Several times he'd gone to her room to paw through her things when she was at work. It helped him remember the precious fleeting happiness his family once knew.
It's shocking to see the dress out of the closet once again. Junpei rubs the material between his fingers, remembering how he'd clutched it in his little hand at his father's memorial service while his mother cried so hard. He'd never seen her cry like that ever again, but he heard it for weeks afterward, usually behind her bedroom door or muffled into the couch cushions at night.
The oiled pan on the stove is smoking, having been left unattended too long. Junpei has to race back to turn the burner off before the detector blares and alerts the neighbors of his mistake. He switches on the overhead fan and continues cooking once the pan has cooled a bit, pouring the egg mixture and rolling it to the side as each layer finishes. His mind wanders back to his mother.
He wanted so badly to tell her about his feelings for you. If she would have been home tonight, it would have been the first thing out of his mouth when he saw her, but now…He isn't so sure.
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So far your morning has not been kind to you. Your rude wake-up call with Toji and impromptu training at 4 am has left you feeling drained physically and emotionally.
It was difficult for you to imagine Toji's past the way he painted it. You knew it was dark, but Jesus fucking Christ… It was hard to look at him the same way after he told you what he used to do. Even if it was nearly twenty years ago, it still made your blood run cold. You've already decided to keep the gruesome details from Junpei. There was no sense in terrifying him. Besides, Toji was harmless now. You're pretty sure anyway.
By the time you're within sight of your friend's apartment building, you can see he's already standing out front and waiting for you. The welcoming sight promptly lifts your spirits.
"Good morning!" He waves with an enormous grin. You notice he's keeping one hand behind his back, concealing something.
"'Morning, sunshine," you chuckle. He's bursting with energy today. It's hard to deny you feel the same stir of happiness just seeing him each morning. It makes you feel special to be the first one to see him everyday. He reacts visibly at the nickname you call him, his cheeks flushing with color as he reveals his gift to you, a bento wrapped in the bright yellow silk of a beautiful furoshiki.
You're too stunned to speak at first. He cooked for you? Like, he got up early and thought of you? How sweet of him! Your previous worries from your morning dissolve away instantly. With an enormous smile, you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. He makes the smallest sound of surprise, but eagerly kisses you back, careful not to drop your lunch as it's squished between the two of you.
"Thank you so much!" you nearly squeal. "You totally made my day!"
He doesn't let go of you, slipping his free hand around your back to keep you close. "I'm so glad. I wanted to do something special…Since, uh, we…" He trails off realizing he might possibly be assuming too much. You'd never vocalized an official title for the two of you. What if that's not–
"Since… I'm your boyfriend now?" You tilt his chin to make him look back up at you.
"Ah-! Y-yes, my boyfriend!" he beams again, shaking off the unnecessary worries. God, that felt so incredible to say! He had to try it again right away.
"My boyfriend," you cut him off with another kiss, this time tickling his lower lip with a slow, deliberate lick before letting him go. Junpei wobbles in place.
"We're going to be late," you smirk, accepting the beautiful gift from him. You're already looking forward to trying what he made for you. Tucking your school bag under the same arm, it leaves your left hand free to hold onto his as you begin your walk to school.
"So…Did you tell your mom anything about us?" You ask, genuinely curious how that interaction would play out.
He's silent for a few seconds, then squeezes your hand apologetically. "Actually….I need to talk to you about that."
Uh-oh… "What is it?"
"I think…She really likes Toji-sensei. There's really been nothing that's made her this happy in years since…My dad. I'm sorry, I couldn't tell her yet even when I saw her this morning. I kept trying, but I felt like I'd ruin something she really cares about if I did."
Jeez, when he put it like that….How were you supposed to argue with his reasoning? You didn't particularly enjoy the idea of Toji seeing Nagi anymore than Junpei did. So why are you thinking about the way he smiled at her walking into the theater? He even sat through a crappy romance movie just to make her happy.
Goddammit. You do give a fuck about him afterall.
"Are you upset?" Junpei asks in a small voice.
"No way! I get what you mean. Those two…they've been through alot, and you're right. They're just enjoying human company for the first time in forever, it's no big deal if they go out on a few more dates" you agree.
There's no sense in taking away their happiness, however brief or shallow it may be. Besides, Toji will probably tell Nagi eventually. He knows you're dating Junpei, so he wouldn't do anything …like that…with her. Right?
When you see the front steps of your school, you look at Junpei expectantly. Part of you is wondering if he will want to walk in holding hands or keep your relationship hidden here too. As he reaches for the door, he looks back, smiling confidently and pulling it open for the two of you. He's still holding onto you as you walk inside.
It takes a few minutes for the students lingering at their lockers to notice there are two boys holding hands in the hallway, but once they do, the reaction is instant. A few stop talking mid sentence to gape with their mouths hanging open. Of course the whispers follow behind you, with no one voicing anything you can hear to your face. You're in a bit of shock yourself, amazed how courageous Junpei is behaving.
You walk into your morning math class and take your seats in the back, again pretending like you don't notice the way everyone is turning in their chairs to watch you pass. There's still a few minutes before class is supposed to start, so Junpei takes it upon himself to push his desk closer to yours, all without letting go of you.
Now the class is in a barely restrained stir. Students turn to gawk shamelessly and whisper to each other. You're about ready to give them all a piece of your mind when the classroom door opens again.
Nishimura! Having heard the rumor of who Junpei walked into the building with, he had to see for himself if it was true. His eyes look as if they're ready to pop out of his head. Even though this isn't his first class, he enters the room anyway. You appraise the jerk up and down suspiciously, refusing to believe this could possibly be a social visit.
Without addressing you, Nishimura chooses to approach Junpei's side. "Uh…hey, Yoshino."
You squeeze your boyfriend's hand reassuringly beneath the desk.
With an audibly tired sigh, Junpei decides to answer him. "What do you want, Nishimura?"
The bully looks uncomfortable, but still stands his ground. "So, uh…I was just wanting to ask you something."
"Spit it out. Class is starting soon," Junpei huffs.
Nishimura takes a deep breath then blurts, "Do you like girls or do you like boys?"
That's it? You scoff and shake your head.
Bravely Junpei states, "I like Fushiguro. And if you have a problem with that, you can have a problem with both of us."
"N-no! It's not like that! I was just…" he trails off and his face turns red. He claps his hands together in a begging motion.
"C-can I please have Chihiro's phone number? Since you don't like girls and all, is it okay if I call her? I think she's really cute."
You nearly fall out of your seat, having to immediately turn away to keep him from seeing the look of utter disgust on your face. Cute?!
Junpei plays it much cooler to your surprise. "Sorry, I don't have her number."
The boy's expression falls. "You…don't? But she walked home with you!"
"So? I didn't like her." He squeezes your hand again. "I like Fushiguro."
"Jeez…Well thanks for nothing, I guess." Dejectedly Nishimura leaves the room, hopes visibly crushed.
Asshole. Why would he expect Junpei to be his wingman anyway? What an idiot! And hearing him call you cute made your skin crawl in the worst way.
You shudder again. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I preferred it when he wanted to fight me."
"I'm sure he'll come around for that too another day," he reassures you.
"You are out for blood today, Junpei! Where is this coming from?"
His thumb sweeps over yours. "Oh…I guess I've just had a really good teacher."
You have no idea how absolutely invincible he feels while holding you.
…..
Toji instructed you to come straight home after school again, insisting he needed to know where you were at all times until further notice. You had to put your foot down and insist that you pick up your new phone today. If he needs to keep tabs on you, it makes more sense for you to get it as soon as possible. In the end, he gave in, and handed over the cash.
"Just get a pre-paid plan. Something month to month will work fine for now. You kids don't take care of your shit, you'll break it in the first year, I promise." he'd said.
You were muttering in minor annoyance to yourself while standing in line at the corner store with your new packaged phone in one hand, and Junpei's hand in the other. It felt like the two of you were trying to set a world record. Every chance you got between classes in the hall, during lunch on the roof, and as soon as the final bell rang, you locked your fingers together. It's been the highlight of your day along with the amazing meal he cooked for you.
You glance over and find Junpei is staring at the makeup counter next to him. Various rows of lipsticks, liners and stains were arranged beneath their brand cards, all in the same various repeating shades of pink and red. You arch an eyebrow as you watch him turning over a few labels in their place on the shelves.
"What are you looking at?"
He shrugs, then smiles sheepishly.
"I like the names of the colors. I always read them whenever my mom and I would go to the store together and she'd pick out new makeup."
He picks up a lipstick case in a nauseatingly coral pink shade and takes a peek under the bottom. "What color would you call this?" he asks with a smile.
"Hmmm…Mermaid Pussy?" you suggest.
He laughs out loud then claps a hand over his mouth, looking around nervously to make sure no one heard you.
"It's 'Ocean Bliss.'" He flips it over to show the sticker to you.
"I like my name better," you insist.
Replacing the lipstick, he absently rotates a bottle of sparkling blue nail polish on the edge of the display.
"That color isn't terrible," you remark. "What's it called?"
Checking the bottom, Junpei replies, "Shotgun."
You snort. "They really just slap anything on a label and call it a name. It's kinda cool though."
Junpei smiles as he twirls the bottle in his hand, admiring the way the light catches the glitter fragments inside. It's really pretty. He's never painted his nails before….but he's thought about it.
The cashier calls you to the register at last.
"Just the phone today?" She asks as she takes it from you to scan.
"Uh-huh…Oh, and this." you pluck the nail polish from Junpei to let her scan it too.
"Fushiguro! You don't have to buy it," he insists.
"Hush. You didn't see the way your face lit up while you were looking at it. You want it, and I have money leftover. So here," you hand it back to him.
Blushing, he accepts the gift and smiles again. "Thank you, Fushiguro."
He can't wait to try it when he gets home.
.
.
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To Be Continued….