thin-skinned.

          “Naoto-kun, please. You wound me. Do I seem like the type of person who would want to hurt others?...” Yuta asks the question while flashing him a smile that implies that, yes, he would enjoy exactly that. “You know, I’m really a caring guy when you get to know me. Just go and ask Chidori-chan, or Konoe-chan, or Nami-chan. Actually, I’m sure any of the girls in the class would have good things to say about me.” Then, quieter, almost too quiet to hear, “Which is more than I can say about you.”

          “Ah!” Yuta can never quite get used to Nico’s ability to pop out of thin air like a fairy, sometimes when he’s alone but always with a flourish unlike that of anyone else he knows. Maybe one of these days he’ll get used to it and not hit the ceiling like a startled cat when she does, but today is clearly not that day. “Nico-chan?” As if it could be anyone else with that amalgamation of colours. “You want to... change your look?” It’s not like he’s ever opposed to a good shopping spree, but this is a little out of character for her. “I thought you dressed...” He gestures to all that is her outfit, “like that on purpose.”

    “No you didn’t.” Naoto’s response is immediate, but he pauses to inspect the hat. Once he is certain Yuta’s scratching and picking has left no mark, he breathes a sigh of relief and sets the hat snugly back onto his head (where it belongs). “Do not twist the truth. You plucked my hat off my head, insulted me without provocation for no discernible reason, ignored my question, and now you are misrepresenting the situation.” He rattles the facts off like he would any case, descriptive and without emotion.

     Naoto shakes his head, tongue between his teeth. “A thief, a liar, and rude, too. You wouldn’t be at all out of place amongst a lineup of criminals. I cannot imagine what they–” He glances at two girls failing to disguise their distinct eavesdropping. “–see in you.”

     Tucking his hands in his pockets, Naoto offers a shrug and something that might – if one squinted, blurred their vision – might be a smile. “Do you have anything important to ask me? Or am I free to leave?”

          Yuta’s smile sticks, suddenly, tightens around the edges as Naoto begins. Why does he get the feeling he’s being lectured? Seriously, it’s annoying. 

          “Naoto-kun, are you being serious right now?” One hand rests on his hip and the other turns towards the sky. Yuta’s voice has a ripple of laughter in it, with the mockery tucked carefully away among the genuine amusement. It’s easy to laugh when you manage to get under the skin of someone like Naoto. Not so cold now, is he? “You sound like a cartoon detective. Does it really matter so much to you?” Yuta knows his reputation—having some girls watching only makes it better, so long as he stays on his toes—and he’s not too worried about this guy messing it up. “Even going to far as to call me a criminal...” 

     “You presume to tell me what is and isn’t rude?” If looks could kill, Yuta would be lying dead on the floor. It takes Naoto far more effort than it should to keep his furious stare trained up on Yuta’s face instead of the hat in his hand (and not just because of the height difference). “Have you heard the things you say? No, of course not.” 

     Naoto scoffs. It is a testament to the depths of Yuta’s cruelty that he has managed to draw out such an intense level of anger from the ocean of emotional repression Naoto has spent far too many months drowning in. “That would require taking a moment to actually listen.”

     …There are too many prying ears standing in this hall. Naoto is a Shirogane; he can drag himself into disrepute, but every one of his actions reflects on his family legacy.

     He closes his eyes, forces his arms to hang by his side, and relaxes his shoulders. When he speaks again, it is with a careful, measured calm. “Did nobody in your life ever teach you proper manners?”

          Well, actually, Yuta considers himself to be something of an expert on what is and isn’t rude. The corner of his lips twitches up in a cruel, laughing sort of smirk and his head tilts haughtily to the side. He waits with that grin alive with amusement on his lips,until Naoto asks him one of his all-time favourite questions. 

     Manners? Sure, he’s been taught manners. But he was also taught that you don’t get anything in life unless you fight for it with tooth and claw, and that’s turned out to be a far more useful lesson. Naoto acts calm now, but Yuta knows he’s got under the guy’s skin, and he counts that as a victory.

   …If Naoto has ever met a more irritating person in his life, he certainly has no memory of it. Misogynistic police officers and condescending adults simply do not compare to the vapid, cruel, insufferable excuse for a student standing in front of him.

   It is not for Yuta’s sake that Naoto stays in this city. Before he can stifle it, a sharp glare flashes across his face, and he has to fold his arms flat across his chest to stop them from curling into far-more-obviously provoked fists.

   ‘Do you always show such a brazen disrespect for personal property? Theft is a crime, you know.’ He drums his fingers on his bicep, exhaling quickly between his teeth. ‘Although I suppose it is no wonder you stoop to such petty, cowardly tactics. Between the skin and starvation, I doubt there’s any room left in your body for an actual backbone.’

         Again, Yuta doesn’t get along with other pretty boys. He doesn’t even get along with other boys for the most part, and Naoto has quickly climbed his way to being number one on Yuta’s (s)hitlist, just by merit of being pretty and mildly popular. He continues his examination of Naoto’s hat, even scratching at the brim with his finger as if to clean off some mud, until Naoto formulates a reply. And what a reply it is.

          .....Starvation? It’s an odd feeling that roils in Yuta’s gut then—not guilt, or shame, but something like pride, all twisted up and mangled by Naoto’s insult. Yuta doesn’t starve himself, of course, but taking something he’s worked so hard for—his body, all bones and sharp edges, just the way he likes it—and turning it into a weapon to use against him ... Yuta doesn’t like that. He doesn’t like that at all. 

  say wuuut? wait, so — so that’s what all this b.s. is about!? oh man! well, he could get offended — he could get offended very easily. but honestly, just hearing those words coming out of the cultivated pretty boy’s mouth, after such a long time of seeing the other playing the role of the ‘perfect ladies’ man’ — it’s — it’s kind of a riot! & so, against all expectation & against all honest real logic, tenga bellows out a really long, elated giggle. & then —

  “hey cherry boy — i know you are, but what am i?”

@dietted!

       If it had been anyone other than Honoka who made that remark, he’d have them and anyone who called him that offed. So quickly. Yuta’s spine actually stiffens, and he seems to gain a few more wrinkles around his eyes before he can even open his mouth to respond. “I’m not — !” He shouts, then cuts him off. It’s undignified, sure, but sometimes gritting your teeth is the better option. 

             Her playful smirk immediately dropped into an annoyed stare. “ No, I don’t want to experience anything from that novel, ” she clarified with the most monotonous voice she can give, “ there’s a reason why it’s a work of fiction in the first place. ” She prefers it that way anyways, separating whimsical fiction with reality. Alex also took a mental note that Yuta probably isn’t one for flirtatious banter, given that her attempt flew over his head. 

             Dark hues of brown narrowly glared towards the other as she stood her ground. The dead stare in her eyes sparked with surprised disbelief before her chest huffed with a stifled laugh. “ And really? A cold, distant guy like you being bold and open enough to ask someone out, ” she skeptically commented.

             Her lips slowly grinned as she gave it more thought, mimicking the sly charm of a fox looking down at its prey. Oh, she would love to see his confidence crash and burn by a lover someday (if he had any). “ Wanna bet? ”

          “It’s a work of fiction because someone desires it to be true, no? I know plenty of girls who would lay down for a guy who had a band-aid at the right time.” He says it like he knows, but really? Band-aids aren’t something he carries around. He’s not the type to get injured often, anyway, and it’s far preferable to take an agreeable lady to the nurse’s office, anyway. Then you get to walk and talk and leave them with memories rather than a piece of plastic. 

     An eyebrow arches, but Yuta’s gaze slides back to the pages. No, quite frankly, he doesn’t want to bet anything. If he fucks it up, it’s just going to make it all the more painful for him.  He only looks up long enough to give her a cool smirk.

❝ Yuta-kun, your kindness has touched Nico to the very bottom of her heart! And now she’s going to protect you with her life! ❞ She’s striking a dramatic pose now.