angelleoi

“You’re always watching TV Petey, is that all you do here? Besides helping me take over the school, of course.”

Gary saunters up to the couch Petey’s sitting on. He lays his forearm on top of Petey’s head, sleeve draping a bit to block part of Petey’s vision.

“Cut it out Gary, I’m trying to watch something!”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure. Watching all those guys swim like that really fuels your sick fantasies, huh?” he sneers.

Petey reaches up to grab Gary’s arm and push it away, but Gary persists and holds his arm in place. He laughs and lets Petey struggle to see the TV for a couple more seconds before moving around the couch and taking a seat next to him. 

The boy’s dormitory is mainly empty– probably because everyone’s watching the fight between some inbred prep and a greaser. It’s been hyped up for a couple days now, no wonder the students all gathered around the pit to watch it.

“I feel like watching a horror movie. Don’t you, femme-boy?”

Petey glances at Gary from the side and protectively inches the remote closer to himself. 

“Not really, no,” he grumbles. 

Gary stares at Petey like he wants to burn holes into him and starts to pester him, saying various things along the lines of: ‘Right, I forgot you were so interested in watching men breaststroke.’

Petey, feeling uncomfortable under his friend’s glare, tries his best to keep his head forward. His eyes are squinted, his eyebrows are upturned, and his mouth looks stuck in a permanent grimace. Immediately after he glances towards Gary for a split second, Gary snatches the TV remote to rile him up.

“Hey– come on, man!” Petey groans. He leans across the cushion between them to try to get the remote back, but Gary lightly stomps his foot on top of Petey’s to get his message across. Petey immediately understands and, not really wanting to argue with Gary, rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh and slumps back into his spot.

Gary snickers at the sight before surfing through channels on the dormitory’s shitty television. It takes many clicks, sighs from Petey, and complaints from Gary about how his arm is sore from reaching outwards, to finally find a horror movie on the shitty cable TV. It’s one of those cliche flicks about a brutal killer who targets a group of teenagers – don’t forget the overuse of crappy jumpscares and gore to make up for the poor plot. The boys weren’t exactly fortunate with their timing, since it looks like the movie was already about halfway finished.

“Gary come on, I really don’t wanna watch this..” Petey whines. Gary immediately shushes and dismisses him by waving a hand obnoxiously in his face. 

“Yeah well I don’t want to watch half naked men get drenched, that’s all you Petey. I’d pay attention to the movie if I were you, it looks like someone’s about to get minced.” He grins, eyes bright as he watches a masked serial killer sharpen some weapons and go hunting for a new victim.

“This sucks..” Petey grumbles.

“What was that, Petey?” Gary questions. He absolutely knows what Petey said, he just wants to be an asshole.

Then, a mumble. “Nothing..”

Instead of protesting any more, Petey sinks further into the couch like he’d rather be anywhere than here. Just like Gary predicted, the psycho killer began creeping up on the jock lifting weights in the garage. The eerie music was building up to the huge kill and the slow pacing between the two characters made the scene all the more tense. 

Petey noticeably tenses up, ready to curl in on himself when the killer inevitably pops out and finishes the bloody job. His hands search for anything to do, one of them coming up to clutch his own shoulder. With jerky movements, his fingers curl around the baby pink fabric of his button-up. The other hand rests between himself and Gary, fingertips insistently drumming against the couch as if each tap was a countdown for the screamer.

Gary, being as observant as he is, picks up on his friend’s body language early. He spares Petey from any sort of teasing, instead just scoffing and rolling his eyes. Gary gives Petey a roguish grin, which Petey responds to by mean-mugging him.

The boys stare at each other silently for a second before…

SMASH!

The masked killer uses the jock’s exercise equipment against him, finishing off the trite character in a bloody gory mess. Fake blood splatters over the camera screen, the music spikes, and the villain’s evil mask flashes in a close-up.

Briefly forgetting about the jumpscare for a second, Petey jumps at the sight. His hand stays firmly gripping his shirt while the other shoots out across the couch. His sweaty palm lands on Gary’s forearm, right above the brown wristband. Gary’s head whips towards the startled boy while a look of disgust quickly overtakes his previous smirk. Petey turns his head towards Gary as well, lips parted around rapid breaths.

After another couple seconds of oddly lingering glares, Gary jeers, “Look at you, Petey. Finally holding onto a guy like you’re a damsel in distress! I’d say congratulations, but..” He cuts himself off with a snicker.

Finally registering what his friend is mocking him about, Petey’s hand flies off of Gary’s arm like Gary has just announced that he’s contracted the plague. 

“It isn’t the same as holding a guy’s hand, huh, femme-boy?” Gary laughs, insistently leaning closer and grabbing at Petey’s hands. Petey scoots back and raises his arms up in a lazy defensive position. The meaner boy continues to pester and reach for his hands without moving closer.

“Quit it!” Petey can’t help but smile a bit.  It’s rare to find genuine-ish moments like this ever since Gary got off his meds, so Petey has learned to enjoy them while they last. The faint indent of his dimples appear, and Gary noticeably glances at them for a split second.

Gary is finally able to grasp Petey’s hand when he slides up next to him. In an instant Petey’s smile fades and his jaw drops a little.

“What’s the matter, moron? Upset that your first time holding hands with someone is with me?” Gary cackles and interlocks his fingers with Petey’s, hands still in the air between their chests.

No, Petey thinks. Not really. 

To Petey it feels normal. Like this was how it was always supposed to end up. He is upset though; he’s upset that Gary is being so casual about this. Isn’t holding hands with someone supposed to mean something? How could Gary just do this – squeeze Petey’s hand in a death grip, sit close to him on the couch, smile at him like this, make him blush like this – and act so normal? Gary’s heart should be racing, just like Petey’s. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

“Get off of me!” Petey’s words stumble out hurriedly. Despite the urgency behind it, his shout is followed by a single scoff-like laugh. “I’d rather hang out with the Jocks than hold hands with you.”

Lies. Lies lies lies lies lies, and Petey knows it too. But this is one of those situations where you just can’t be honest. He’d die of embarrassment before Gary could even respond to his feelings.

Gary barks out a laugh and retreats his hand back to his side. He takes a mental note of how warm his hand feels now. Poor femme-boy, sweating bullets cuz’ of a measly horror movie.

The boys return to their lazy positions – no more hovering over each other or holding onto the other for dear life at jumpscares. Gary’s leg is bouncing like a piston, Petey’s trying to subtly wipe off all the sweat from his palm onto his khakis, and the movie continues playing in front of them.

Pete Kowalski wishes he was just a little braver in moments like these. Maybe if he was braver he’d say something while he and Gary were holding hands. If he was braver, he could be honest to Gary about all of his confusing emotions. He could be honest with himself. But for now, this – watching a shitty slasher movie in the boys dormitory – is all Petey’ll get, and he just has to deal with that for as long as he chooses not to be brave.

They’re sitting closer than before, though; what used to be an entire cushion separating them was now a fourth of a cushion, Petey notes. And that’s gotta count for something, right?

if i mischaracterized its because plot twist im a larp and i havent played the game im doing this for my friend who is deprived of kowalsmith content (bully fandom dont hate me)

Your first impression of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu wasn’t great. Walking into Class 77-B for the first time with sweat on your palms, you were greeted almost immediately with yelling. Not anyone screaming bloody murder, but really loud arguing.

And right on the offense of that argument was him – Fuyuhiko. You couldn’t believe it. A short, baby-faced highschooler yelling to his pink-haired classmate that he’d order a hit on him. 

Jesus, you thought. I’m definitely avoiding that guy at all costs.

With that, any chance of you forming a bond with Fuyuhiko went flying out the window. You’d deliberately walk away from him if he approached, avoid his gaze like eye contact transferred the plague, and disassociate from any conversation he entered. He noticed all of this. Of course he did. 

Fuyuhiko disliked you just as much as you disliked him. Any dumbass who can’t handle his personality is sensitive and unworthy of his time and attention. But he approaches your relationship a little differently than you. Instead of avoiding or steering clear of your presence, he makes little comments. Simple teases that your mind lingers on for hours, small insults that crawl under your skin, quips about your performance in class that twist and unfurl in your stomach for god knows what reason.

You tell yourself you don’t care, that his opinions mean nothing to you. Staring at yourself in the mirror after a long day of school, you pretend his comment last week about how hard you’re trying to look good doesn’t still live relentlessly in your brain. 

Even when you lay in bed about to go to sleep, he occupies your thoughts. Practically your entire night is spent tossing and turning in bed, trying to shove the Ultimate Yakuza from your mind. When you think you’ve finally been freed from the prison that is your brain, drifting off slowly into the respite of sleep, his stupid face appears again. His buzzed blonde hair, his rosy cheeks, his short stature, his cocky voice; every single annoying part of him pieces together in your dreams. 

The worst part about that, though, was the contents of the dream. The two of you were sitting alone in Class 77-B way after school ended. Rays from the sunset poured into the classroom through the wide windows. Fuyuhiko was leaning back in the chair across from your desk, feet propped up inches from where your hands rested.

His face wasn’t hardened like usual, his expression was unguarded, and something about him seemed strangely at peace. Before you knew it, he had opened his eyes and was staring at you with the tiniest grin. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like you’re shocked I’m here. What kinda lame ass boyfriend would I be if I didn’t spend time with you?” His eyebrow quirks up.

With that, you’re almost immediately snapped out of whatever dream that was. 

Boyfriend!? What is wrong with me? Why do I keep thinking about him like that!?

The next day, you spend a little longer getting ready for whatever reason. You switch things up – putting on a dash of pretty-colored eyeshadow, doing an extra once-over of your signature lip gloss, applying an extra spritz of your favorite perfume. Not because Fuyuhiko made a not-completely-negative off-comment about it, you told yourself. This is for me. I’m just feeling a little more motivated today. 

But even though you went through all the effort to make this morning better than the others, something just had to go wrong. 

You were half of the way along your walk to school when something felt off. Halting on the sidewalk, your brain finally pieces together what could be happening. Your bag feels lighter. Shit. 

It takes approximately 40 seconds of rummaging through your bag and millions of worried assumptions before the absence of a lunch box presents itself.

Of course. The world just hates me, you think before begrudgingly slinging your bag back over your shoulder and continuing your trek. Thankfully there’s a convenience store around the corner that sells some small lunch items.

—

“You’re two dollars short.” 

The cashier’s monotonous voice repeats over and over in your head.

Seriously? I could have sworn I had at least $12 in my wallet. Shit, I’ll have to put everything back!

“O-oh! Uhm, okay, yeah that’s alright.” You take a deep breath. “I’ll just–”

“I’ve got it,” a voice behind you sighs.

When you turn around to look at the face of your savior, your heart immediately soars. It’s Fuyuhiko. Pouty, grumpy, cute Fuyuhiko with his fist extended holding a 5 dollar bill.

You’d seriously argue right now. Tell him you don’t need his charity. But your morning has been inconvenienced enough and you can’t find the fighting words within you.

So you just move aside, letting Fuyuhiko step besides you and set the money on the counter with just a bit of unnecessary force that makes you flinch. The cashier takes the cash and raises her head again.

“You want the change?”

Fuyuhiko grabs the 3 dollars from her palm and walks off grumbling something that was most definitely a string of cuss words. You cough to clear away the awkwardness (obviously unsuccessful) and smile before taking your now-bagged lunch. 

Just like that, you’re rushing out of the convenience store to catch up with your classmate. You don’t know why your feet keep carrying your body towards the aggressive boy, but they don’t stop until you’re right behind him.

At the sound of your loud footsteps, he whips his head around. The rest of his body follows and soon you’re panting in front of him while he stands smugly. 

This asshole, acting like he’s so high and mighty. He’s shorter than me, what’s with that smirk for!?

“I knew I was rich but, damn, didn’t know the wealth gap was that bad. Dumbass can’t even pay for a convenience store lunch.”

He snickers looking at your displeased face. Before you can say anything he shoves the money into your chest. You catch it in your fingers before it can fall to the ground.

“Why?” you breathe.

“Why what?”

“Why’d you pay the two dollars? You’re.. You’re supposed to laugh in my face and watch while I put all the stuff back on the shelves, not– not help me.”

“Who the hell made up those bullshit rules? I’ll do whatever I want.”

You stay silent, shakily inhaling through your mouth like you want to say something. But you don’t, because if you talk right now, your voice will be quiet and meek. Fuyuhiko can’t hear something like that.

“It’s not that fucking shocking that I can do something nice once in a while. Stop actin’ like I saved you from a burning building, it’s just a fuckin’ lunch. Two dollars.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked right off, leaving you to stare at him dumbfounded.

—

Chisa-sensei was explaining the impact of the youth’s ultimates on future generations for a while. Not like you were listening or anything. You were too caught up staring at the back of Fuyuhiko’s head, like you were trying to analyze his thoughts by looking at him long enough.

“I’ve got it,” a voice behind you sighs.

The events from this morning play like a broken record in your mind.

 Fuyuhiko is right, really. Why am I so caught up over two dollars? Is it because I could have never imagined him doing an act of service for anyone? Maybe it’s because it’s me he was doing it for. We’re basically enemies.

Your train of thoughts is broken by the bell ringing through the classroom’s speakers. How cliche! 

Walking to lunch, you spot Fuyuhiko walking in the same direction up ahead. Once again, you find yourself moving without thinking. Talking without thinking.

“Fuyuhiko! Wait!” you call out, eyebrows furrowed as you try to get his attention.

He stops for a second like he’s contemplating giving you the time of day. But surprisingly, he turns around and waits for you to come up to him. 

“Why’d you help pay for my lunch?” You’re practically cornering him against a wall.

“Jesus, you’re still fucking on that shit? Give it up, dumbass, that was hours ago!”

He cranes his head around your taller form to see if any students are walking down the hallway. If anyone saw him this close with a girl like you it’d obliterate his tough guy persona. Thankfully this hallway is almost always empty. A nice break from the loud students hanging around the other more populated halls.

You don’t even realize you’re standing so close to him until you can feel his sharp exhale on your skin. That makes your heart stutter for a moment.

It’s just the fact that I’m close to a boy, you reassure yourself. Nothing to do with Fuyuhiko himself.

Surprisingly, the Ultimate Yakuza makes no effort to push you away or create distance between the two of you. 

“You don’t get it, do ya? Is your skull really that thick or is your brain just small as hell?”

“Yeah, I don’t get it!” You shout. Fuyuhiko winces and checks for a teacher that might hear you yelling in the halls. “One day you’re teasing me about my perfume or my lipgloss or my grade on a test and the next you’re paying for my lunch!”

“Shut. Up.” He speaks through gritted teeth. 

What’s it gonna take to shut you up? At this point, a teacher’s gonna hear from a whole other hall. Not to mention the ‘Ultimate Moral Compass’ who runs the hallways like it’s bootcamp.

“No, because I still need to know why–”

God, Fuyuhiko can’t take it anymore. 

He hurriedly leans forward, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head to his. Your lips press together in a hard and firm kiss.

You immediately stiffen up and widen your eyes. But Fuyuhiko’s eyes close. His hand moves from your hair to your face, relieving your scalp of the stress from his grip. He squishes your cheeks together with one hand, thumb digging into your right cheek while the rest of his fingers press into your left. 

“Can’t you– fuck, mmph – just get it through your head already?” he grumbles between kisses.

At this point, your brain has processed what’s happening. Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, the boy you’ve hated all year, is kissing you. It makes you think. Did you ever really hate him? Sure, he’s been annoying, but the thoughts of him that plagued you definitely don’t belong to a person full of hate.

One of your hands slides up to hold the side of his neck while the other slithers down to bunch up his shirt by the waist.

“G-get what through my head?” you breathe.

You know what he’ll say, but you want him to say it anyway. Express vulnerability for once.

He pulls back abruptly.

“That I like you, dumbass.”

His tone is harsh and rough, but the blush on his cheeks betray what he really feels. It’s cute how easily his cheeks flush, all the while he preaches about his toughness.

“You should’ve told me that.. instead of being all mean n’ shit..”

Fuyuhiko scoffs, taking a step to the side to give you and himself personal space. He let his guard down for a couple minutes and now he’s rebuilding some of those walls. Not all of them, though.

“The fuck do you mean? I was flirting, you’re just too damn blind to see it.”

You scoff incredulously. “Flirting!? You were just being an asshole, what the hell do you mean flirting?”

“I was talkin’ about your perfume and hair and shit! Don’t girls like being noticed like that?”

“Not when you tell me I can ‘do better next time’!”

You can’t help but laugh a little at the absurdity of it all.“I was motivating you!” he shouts. To that, you roll your eyes and tug on his sleeve, signalling that he should walk you to lunch.

He’s definitely got a weird way of flirting, but at least it worked out in the end..?

side eyes the FUCKKK out of you when you ask him to be your tripsitter and whispers something about you being desperate and/or filthy under his breath. he's actually lowkey worried about you in the back of his mind, but denies it when his brain questions his own emotions. (??? idk if that makes sense)

“You asked me to be here for a reason, I’ll… assist with this mess,” he mumbles when you apologize for the inconvenience.

picked up a book from the library about psychedelics in order to gain more information about all of this. it’s not like it’s for you or anything, hmph! he just wants to expand his knowledge!!1!1

“You researched psychedelics just for this?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. The book offered valuable information, that’s all.”

he knows the risks of tripping while you’re in a bad mindset, so he’s less of an asshole if that even helps.

shows he cares by staying quiet and not opening his big mouth throughout everything. no teasing remarks, no insults, no mean-spirited quips about the ordeal. 

if you start tweaking out and showing negative effects, he nudges you out of your dorm room and into his own for a change of environment, hovering a hand next to your lower back during the walk just in case. 

he looks like he’s judging you the whole time, and he basically is. he thinks shit like LSD and mushrooms are things commoners use to ‘find entertainment amidst their pathetic lives’, and can’t believe that someone he respects would indulge in peasants’ entertainment. 

during it all he’s completely silent, flipping through a book while frequently glancing up at you. 

something in him shifts when he thinks about the deeper things behind this little jaunt. you trust him, the biggest asshole you know, to watch you while you’re tripping. you’re aware of the risks and possible negative outcomes that can come along with the drugs you’re taking, but you still trust him to watch you and do the right thing if push comes to shove. 

you start to freak out about something mid-trip and byakuya actually looks somewhat worried. his eyebrows are furrowed together and his shoulders are stiff, even though his background knowledge tells him that what’s happening is normal. all he says is, “You’re fine.” in a clipped tone. something in his voice sounds oddly caring, though.

he stays for a little while afterwards, not keen on just abandoning you after your trip. 

he lets you talk about the experience so long as you’re quiet and not TOO annoying. togami acts like listening to you ramble is a chore, but he just mighttt be interested in what happens when you’re on hard drugs like that. and he cares about you.. just a little tho.

scoffs and rolls his eyes when you ask him to be your tripsitter again, but agrees regardless!! what a tsundere amiright

he falls for you basically the second you walk in the classroom on the first day of school, and from that point on he’s officially insufferable about it.

all of his friends know your name, your schedule, your talent, your favorite colors, and all the other things kazuichi gushes to them about. but if they even dare to suggest he asks you out, he immediately shuts that nonsense all down.

normally kaz would be super persistent and upfront with his romantic feelings for someone, but something about you has thrown all that out the window. instead he settles for subtly following you around campus and bringing up ‘smooth conversation starters’ when his heart isn’t on overdrive. 

picture an average conversation with him going like this:

“sighhhhhhhhhhh” 

“...”

“SIGHHHH”

“whats wrong, kazuichi?”

“oh, you’re here, heh. it’s nothing, just finished working on a preeeetty tough motorcycle this morning.”

“i love motorcycles! are they cool to work with?”

“y-yeah! i mean, it was actually my motorcycle so i was familiar with it, you know?” 

at that point he’d devolve into a rambling mess, yapping about torque wrenches and hardware cataloging. all while you just stood there acting like you knew what he was talking about and pretending you couldn’t see the tomato-colored blush spanning across his face.

he’d walk away from that thinking he was the slickest heartthrob even though he was still actively sweating bullets ten minutes later. 

you’d get partnered with him on small projects once in a while and he’d talk your ear off about whatever new designs he had been engineering.

someone – probably teruteru playing a prank – showed you a picture of what kazuichi looked like in middle school. dull black hair, natural colored eyes, colorless school uniform. it looked so foreign, so not-kazuichi. he was genuinely deathly afraid that you’d think he was some loser now, but you just brushed it off by saying you had your own embarrassing style in middle school.

one day, your bike broke down and the only thing you knew to do was go to the souda family’s bike shop. you had heard kaz say something amidst one of his rambles about always being around there, so you prayed to whatever god would listen that he’d be in the shop when you’d arrive. thankfully he was.

he tried to act all nonchalant and carefree about fixing your bike, except the cheesy pickup lines he threw your way were anything but that. 

you’d think the ultimate mechanic would have it done within minutes, but kazuichi had ulterior motives. he thought that with enough sweet-talking, he’d distract you into staying here for a good hour or two. somehow it worked, and you didn’t even look the slightest bit annoyed at all his flustered rants about the uses of chain breakers, floor pumps, and tire levers.

dating

after months of pining you from afar, kaz had officially developed a plan. he’d accidentally bump into you in the hallway, do that stereotypical thing where he helps you pick up all your books, then ask you out on some sweet date. 

what he wasn’t expecting was the phone call from you right after writing all that shit down in his mechanic design-filled journal. you didn’t even hesitate to ask him to be your boyfriend– you just said it outright! what the hell was all his longing after you for if he knew you’d just call him!?

now that you’re dating, you have to endure tenfold of yapper kazuichi. not that you’re complaining or anything. it’s hard to when he, who’s got the energy of a small dog, is rapidly explaining all the different creations he’s fixed up in the last month or two. 

kazuichi’s love language is both physical touch and making/fixing little things for you. 

you complain about not being able to see while riding your bike home at night? expect a state of the art headlight system built into the front. broken keychain? fixed immediately, with the added bonus of a little robot-kaz who chirps some corny message if you press a small button on its head.

he’s always got his hands on you somehow. his hand is always snaked around your waist when you’re walking somewhere, despite your complaints about how embarrassing the position is. 

he still gets nervous around you, even though you’ve been dating for a while. kaz can’t help it, you’ve got some weird biological thing that makes him blush around you or something!