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“‘tora.”

“y/n.” he’s completely unphased by the cold look on your face, landing stealthily in your room with only a tiny thump from his shoes.

the next thing you notice is his clothes; he’s still in his school uniform, except the collar’s loose and unbuttoned, tie barely hanging onto his neck, and it’s drenched in the stench of cologne. if it weren’t for these circumstances, your face would be heating up, but you’re antsy at the thought of someone walking in or, god-forbid, the neighbors looking out their window to see you fraternizing with your secret lover. 

even so, the familiar butterflies fill your stomach when kazutora leans over your bed and kisses the corner of your mouth, rubbing his nose against your cheek like a cat. you can’t fight the smile that forces itself on your face, the urge to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him on top of you onto your mattress.

“oh?” he teases. “frisky, aren’t we?”

“don’t want the neighbors to see,” you mumble. 

“yeah, sure.”

he leans down to kiss you again, but you push your palm against his forehead, prying him off. “why are you here, ‘tora?”

his eyes go round and he pouts—a deep, comical expression that makes you cringe at how obviously exaggerated it is, and you hate to admit it’s cute. just a bit. with that, you let him settle into your arms, no longer fighting against his shuffles to make himself comfortable in your bed. the weight and heat of kazutora’s body slows the previous thumping of your heart, the rush of adrenaline from being awakened from your sleep, and the thrill of having him around.

“i wanted to see you,” he murmurs. “i feel like i never do during the day.”

“you see me all the time at school.”

“but we can’t do this, you know? or else the teachers would tell you off.”

amidst your conversation, the floorboards outside your door audibly sink beneath the weight of footsteps—familiar. your father. your hand immediately flies over kazutora’s mouth, though the equally shocked look on his face says he understands. you practically hear the questions running through your father’s head as he creeps closer to the door, debating on whether or not he should enter.

after a few tense moments, he retreats, allowing you to breathe in relief. just then, a chill whips through your bedroom window, still open, knocking the curtains and blinds against the frames. your father’s footsteps return.

“y/n?” he says on the other side. “are you awake?”

you pause. “yes… it was hot, so i opened the window a bit. i’ll close it now.”

more silence. finally, your father speaks. “okay, just making sure. goodnight.”

“goodnight!” your hand only leaves kazutora’s mouth once you hear your father’s bedroom door close. 

“lying to your parents now, aren’t you?” he teases with a grin. 

“you need to leave,” you whisper. the tight grip on his arm says otherwise. 

“i’ll be quiet-”

“‘tora. now.” he knows by the narrowing of your eyes you won’t back down no matter how much he whines or pouts. with a hesitant sigh, kazutora slides off of you, allowing you to sit up. even then, he lingers at the edge of your mattress, holding your hand in his, unable to let go.

“i wanna see you again.”

“tomorrow. we’ll go on a real date.”

“promise?”

you leave a soft kiss on his lips. “promise.”

even in the dark, his cheeks glow a shade of pink. “can i still sneak in?”

“‘tora-”

that hasn’t stopped him from occupying your thoughts from time to time (and more). kazutora’s the shadow over your shoulder, the snarky laugh when you make a comment that’s not supposed to be funny, but he laughs anyway because he thinks whatever you say is comedic, especially when you’re mad. he’s also the lone pair of eyes that have witnessed your lowest points, the concerned frown when he finds you crying in the secluded hallways on your worst days. kazutora may be a rebel, a criminal, a ruffian, or whatever other titles they give him, but damn is he sweet. and you, unfortunately, fell for his charms, but no more than he’s fallen for you.

you’re everything he wishes to be in another life—a star student with stellar grades, student council president, somehow always composed and prepared with the answers whenever your teacher calls on you, no matter the subject. you’re the hand on his shoulder when he sees his name at the very end of the exam score list, the smile that reminds him how bright he truly is, even if his grades don’t reflect that. beneath his hard exterior lies a boy who, like others, is fragile, who needs someone to tell him he’s doing at least one thing right.

there’s an undeniable force between you two. it’s loud, quiet, intimate, playful, exhausting, and rewarding all in one. despite this, you won’t let kazutora further than he already is, and he knows why. you’re afraid—not of him, but what you’ll become if you rope yourself with the likes of him. frankly, he’s afraid, too. 

boys like kazutora ruin lives.

love is the only way to describe your feelings for him and his for you. there’s nothing as romantic as lying side by side on a grassy hill making shapes out of clouds, or reading the messy letters composed of misspelled words slipped into your school bag. your heartbeat syncs with his when you’d kiss, a sensation neither of you will tire of.

loving kazutora has its risks and rewards. it hurts to pretend what you have is nothing but another school crush, the fear of becoming a stranger to yourself (and him) hindering you from seeing him in his truest, most honest form. it hurts him, too. 

when class is over, each of your teacher’s words has gone through one ear and out the other. kazutora lingers behind like he always does, arm thrown over the back of his chair as he waits for you. rather than pack your things in a rush to meet your next scholarly duties, you’re stagnant. kazutora knows you well enough to feel the discomfort shrouding you when he approaches your desk. he brushes a tentative thumb across your cheek, down to your chin where he tilts it to see your face.

you shudder under his touch, partly from embarrassment, but mostly from how fast he makes your heart beat. for a moment, the world is your stage as you stare at each other with love adorned eyes. every ounce of pain, every shroud of doubt dissipates when you see how concerned he is, even getting on one knee so you’re face to face.

your face breaks into a smile—small, but genuine, void of your previous sour mood. it’s then you realize you’ve been holding back too much, depriving yourself of the opportunities he has in store for you. you, unconsciously, hold the same prejudices the rest of the world has against him, believing he will be nothing more than this, a no-good idiot. but he’s shown you he is so much more. a lover, a fighter, a friend, a foe.

kazutora’s been waiting for you to take a leap of faith. and so you do, right into his arms. it knocks the breath out of his lungs, and you flinch when his head knocks against the wood floor. but then he laughs, pleasantly surprised, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him this happy before.