#echoes&verses

Leona Kingscholar

↬ Today marked the first day of winter break for NRC....which was also the day of your reunion with Leona.

↬ And, unlike all the other times you visited when you were kids, today you were dressed down in one of your loveliest garbs to discuss the prospect of marriage.

↬ This was bound to happen one of these days, whether it'd have been with Falena or Leona and, even though your parents would've much preferred you be married off to the man who is now the king of Sunset Savanna ( despite the age difference between you two ), they still jumped at the opportunity given when he humored the idea of you — who he already saw as a little sister — and Leona — who he had known had festering feelings for you for the better half of your childhood — getting married after his days at Night Raven came to an end.

↬ You personally weren't very thrilled about the idea, but your parents threats of disownment had you mentally praying that this would work out and that Leona would be as on board with the idea as his elder brother was.

↬ You were prepared to pull out all the stops; use every tactic you've practiced, every skill you were forced to master at a young age, and use every bit of knowledge you learned from his brother and others to make the idea of you as a marriage candidate seem like the most appealing option possible.

↬ But then he walked in and all your prep went up in smokes...for the man who lazily strolled into the room was not Leona.

↬ ....Well it was Leona, but not the same boy you knew in your childhood. He was taller, toner, prettier... This man before you was no longer the sour, slightly scrawny cub you had once known and your body reacted to him in ways it would have never before.

↬ Ultimately, your prayers changed its tune and all you could hope for was to not further dishonor your family by being unable to manage a steady conversation with an old friend.

"Well ain't this a sight to see — never thought you'd get all dressed up for some nobody like me," Sounded like a serenade and a laugh track at the same time.

While the husk that wrapped his words delighted your ears, what he said was nothing short of a mocking claw that dug into your tender flesh and you could do nothing but grit your teeth and bare it.

"Well obviously I'd try to look my best for something like this.." You grumble. Your eyes rooted at a downwards tilt as you stared at your folded hands — which were decorated in gold and other colors that matched the jewelry that lined your outfit.

"Hmph," He hums, and you hear him shuffling to get comfortable as he throws out, "So I guess this means you're officially done licking Falena's boots now that you realize there's no chance in hell of you marryin' him."

Immediately, your eyes darted up to lock with his. Your mouth already open and ready to defend what little pride you had left to latch on to, only for silence to prevail in the end.

Leona sat before you like a smug king; arms crossed along his broad chest — which winked promiscuously at you through the deep v of his slapped on attire — and face at a visible upturn.

It was a sight that burned you. A sight that made you feel ashamed for more reasons than one..for it was a sight that undeniably enticed you and took your breath away, like a sunrise amongst the plains.

Without a doubt in your mind, Leona had matured beautifully and had truly put his older brother to shame in every possible way.

His eyes were like two jagged gems of an expensive earring set, his hair was long and unruly like a fine mane, and the way his chiseled body strained against his loose clothing had your mind going on a frenzy trying to imagine the full picture of what could lie underneath.

It was then that you had to be honest with yourself and admit; if eyes could dine, no doubt you would've devoured him whole ten minutes ago.

"Cat's got your tongue, little herbivore?" He rolls his words with a toothy grin that told you all you needed to know; your thoughts were ink on the pages of an open book and he was getting a kick out of reading each and every one of them.

You wanted nothing more than to shrink into yourself but you couldn't. Not now. Not until you had gotten him in agreement with this arrangement. Not until you could still ensure a roof over your head, clothing on your back, and food in your belly.

"N– ..Never," You reply to him and, though you hate the way your voice resembled the squeak of a mouse, you continued, "And if you could cease the crude behavior, I'd like to—"

"I'm not being any more crude than you are," He bites back, "I mean, you're the one who's been undressing me with your eyes this entire time—" "I wasn't!"

Were you? You highly doubt you were because, no doubt, your body would've reacted as if you were a lioness in heat if you had. Such an alluring sight as the definition of his muscles...like a carefully, beautifully chipped stone statue...sevens, would a sight like that be heavenly—

"--and is still doing it, by the way," Leona finishes, and it's then that your eyes halt in its descent down his body and rush back up to his face — which had the shittiest-eating grin known to mankind.

And at that point, you could do nothing but hide your reddening face and groan as Leona's throaty laughter booms along the walls. ( Maybe being homeless and living in a trench somewhere in the savanna wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.. )

Ruggie Bucchi

↬ Ruggie had returned home with a big sack of food in tow like he always did on his breaks. Nothing special, nothing out of routine.

↬ Yet your eyes followed him as if he had just been crowned King of Sunset Savanna.

↬ To put it frankly, he had achieved the impossible; awed you, and he had managed to do so with nothing but the face you used to trounce for the fun of it.

↬ His pearly, toothy, sly grins, his dirty blonde hair, the dimples that dented his cheeks when he talked....were they always there? If they had, how have you never noticed them? How could little you cover such features in mud without a moment of hesitation??

↬ Your tail and ears wagged faster than a cheetah's legs could run the closer you seemed to be to this drop dead adorable man masquerading around with your friend's mannerisms and you could think of nothing to combat it besides separating yourself from him as much as possible.

↬ Of course, this caught Ruggie's attention like a fish to bait on a hook and it was inevitable he'd attempt to pick your brain the moment he had a chance to. ( How could he not when he's liked you as long as he has? )

Ruggie was never an ugly guy, just not your type.

At least, that's what you told yourself as you watched him feed some of the younger pups of the pack from a safe distance. Your body curled into itself like an armadillo with your arms and tail wrapped securely around your legs as if you couldn't trust them unrestrained.

To be completely honest, you couldn't trust them right now, not when every one of your instincts screamed for a dude you used to pick on by shoving his head into moats and waiting for him to chase after you.

You suddenly groan out. Why in the world did you do that? Even for fun that was so mean..

But why do you only now regret it? Why do you only now feel shame for memories that, until a few hours ago, you once looked back on with a huge grin? A part of you could pin a tail to a reason, but you refuse to acknowledge it. No way. Uh uh.

"What's with the stormy look? Don't tell me you tried to go huntin' and got into it with one of the neighboring communities over food again — you suck at fighting y'know, shyehehe~!"

Ruggie laughed, but for some reason his comment — which was an obvious taunt that would've typically had your arms moving to yank him into a headlock — had your ears twitching and your stomach doing flips as if it were high praise.

To be fair, anything he said right now would garner that reaction out so long as he kept grinning at you like he was right now.

"If I suck, you're god awful," You snap back, hoping and praying with all your might that you weren't looking as giddy as you felt under his smiling, blue eyes — seriously, how does he do that? And why are they so cute??

Ruggie laughs off your words, brushing off your jab as he offers you a roasted kebab; a small portion of the feast he lugged home.

You take it, and he sees your acceptances of the snack as an invitation. He plops beside you and, upon you stiffening up, he raises an eyebrow.

"What's been up with you today?" He asks as he folds his arms behind his head, kicks a leg up, and leans back on the makeshift flesh pillow he made himself.

His movements are relaxed which brings out the transparent haze of worry that glints his gaze and makes his impish expression seem like something...softer.

He turns that look your way and you hate how easily you just melt under such a gaze.

"You've been jumpier than the pups around here — you that happy to see me or what? Hehe~" His voice is doused in that playful, teasing tone he only uses with you and you have to bite the inner gum of your cheek to avoid squealing like some baby hyena at the sight. How embarrassing, you thought.

You look away, utterly mortified and abashed — and rip the potato impaled on the tip of the stick with your teeth. You take your time chomping into mush, using that small grace period to collect yourself.

"You wish," You finally reply after swallowing.

"Awh, you don't have to deny it — I can tell you missed me as much as I–! Ergh...nevermind.." His voice dips into a mumble as he suddenly looks away in a similar way you did moments ago albeit in a less cool manner.

You gain the courage to return your gaze to him and you grit your teeth when your heart does a trick for this new view of him. Nevertheless, you feign indifference as best you can as you grip his chin and force him to look your way again.

He's surprised, and now you're grinning as the sunlight spotlight is finally shifted off of you, "Not as much as you've missed me apparently.." You comment.

Oh how you wish you'd kept your mouth shut.

As his face flushes a light shade of pink, his eyes drift for a moment before catching on something just out of view of your gaze. Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you could ask what he was suddenly looking at with so much intent, he raises his hand...and swipes his thumb just under your lip.

"Mhmm, seems like you've missed more," He retorts as his confidence sudden returning, "So much that you can barely focus on eating, hehehe~!"

He retracts his thumb — which was now smeared white but the bit of potato he rid from your skin — and darts his tongue out to lick, yes, lick it clean. You could do nothing but gulp.

What just happened...was more appetizing than this stick of meat and vegetables in your hand, and as your mind wondered into uncharted territory you were only half-scared to cross, it got you thinking; how does Ruggie taste?

"I... I knew you were secretly happy to see me, but never did I imagine it'd be this much," He suddenly says with a tone that sounds equally as surprised as it does amused. The randomness of it snaps you out of your daydreams with a bewildered scrunch to your expression...only for your face to drop when you realize what was happening.

Your tail...it had snuggly wrapped itself around the boy's thigh and slipped under his shirt, utterly unashamed like your thoughts had become just a second ago.

You couldn't deny any longer, couldn't brush things off, couldn't lie. Your tail was swishing away and its fur was currently tickling Ruggie's abdomen with the enthusiastic attraction you had been trying to hide this entire time.

You had lost this back and forth, and in one of the most horrible ways possible.

He locks eyes with you again, his mouth fixing to say something undeniably insulting...but you dart off before he can, ears firmly pressed against your head and your face uncharacteristically red.

Ruggie watches your retreating figure bolt past others and into the horizon until you're nothing but an indiscernible dot amongst the field and sky. He looks over once you're completely out of sight and sees the kebab he had given you laying amongst the grass — just barely nibbled on — and grabs it to take a bite. ( Because like hell is he wasting quality food ).

There's no doubt in his mind now; something's definitely up with you. He'll do some digging around for exactly what's up later, but for now, he'll savor the taste of his mirth...and this meat.

Heh, maybe later he'll poke some fun at you for this. After all, it's not everyday he gets to revel in watching you hide your nerves. ( But, man, does he wish it was )

Jack Howl

↬ You had came late and missed the better half of NRC's interdorm tournament — not that you had much interest in any team other than Savanaclaw.

↬ You had come to see the beastmen play, but not because you were a fan of them. Hell, you weren’t even there to cheer them on. You simply came to see their demise.

↬ That's right. You had come all the way from the Shaftlands just to see them lose — specifically your old acquaintance ( and long term competitive rival ) Jack Howl.

↬ It wasn't the kindest thing you've ever done in your life, but what were you if not a little mean?

↬ That said, it seems that the world was finally getting back at you for all your ill hearted shenanigans because when you visited Jack in the infirmary, you couldn't spew a single insult or rude quip...because your mouth was too busy salivating over him.

↬ You tried your damnest to play it off, but you could only do so much when every little thing he did brought such carnal urges out of you.

"Go on, laugh it up," The gruff grumble had you blinking at him as if he had grown a second tail.

"Huh?" You professed rather dumbly, much to Jack's irritated befuddlement.

"Aren't you here to make fun of me for losing?" He asks, teeth already barred at you as he goes on to say, "Just so y'know, I ain't ashamed about any of this.

Your lips parted, but with nothing to say you could only stand there with your jaw hanging. You had no thoughts or urges to refute him because shame is the last thing he should feel if it makes him look that good.

You gave him another glance over and it was an even better than the last time you did so two minutes ago. Body coated in a light sheet of sweat that was actively drying up, hair in damp disarray — likely a result of him running his hair through the snowy lock multiple times — and his eyes glowing like two golden nuggets from the adrenaline still in his system...

If losing produces this, sevens above, you pray for nothing but his demise so long as you're there to witness it.

Your intrusive gaze stuck to him like pins and needles and, at the mercy of such of stare from you of all people, Jack felt rather discombobulated. He strains, and despite the pain crackling in his joints, he scratches the back of his head and looks away, suddenly unnerved.

"...You seriously got nothing to say?" He asks after a while, yanking you from your thoughts by an imaginary chain, much to your dismay, "What're you visiting me for then? Got somethin' to tell me?"

Your mouth snaps shut. In truth, you did have something to say — many things, in fact — but your words have seemed to change course and reform from the moment Savanaclaw's lost was sounded through the booming speakers and the moment you walked into the infirmary.

Yes, undoubtably, now your thoughts are lighter, more polite, but not at all appropriate to say to someone you view in a platonic light.

Well..Jack was once viewed in that way. Now...you are so certain of where he stands.

You suck in a breath slowly, your eyes falling closed as you come to terms with the fact that you can no longer trust them from getting distracted by the absolute specimen before you. It's only moments after then that you finally manage to mutter something comprehensible.

"I just...came to see how you were doing and wish you luck if you're plannin' on trying out for the international team.."

The words felt foreign on your tongue — positivity wasn't something that often left your lips, much less to him — but maybe all it took was for you to see him in a new light to be gentler. Maybe all it took was for your heart to skip to his beat for once to coax you into being nicer ( though phrasing it like that makes your face contort in disgust at how mushy it sounds ).

Whatever your reason is, you couldn't have cared less for it by the time you opened your eyes again and beheld the endearing sight of Jack's face darkened a cherry red and those pretty eyes of his blown wide from surprise. It was a look you had never once seen cross his visage..

..but, oh, what that look did to you.

"Uhm...thanks, I guess.." He responded as if acknowledging your words would turn them sour again — not that you could really blame him for thinking that, especially as you turn your back to him and begin to walk off and speak in a tone that sounded more like yourself.

"Don't get the wrong idea, you still ain't shit compared to me. I doubt you'll make the team," You spat, "...But it'd be irritating if you beat yourself up over that sorry excuse ova' game and gave up on all we built so I felt like I had to say somethin'.."

You wondered if he could hear the slight tremor in your voice when it cracked or if the beating of your heart being strummed was just as loud as it seemed to be in your ears. You hoped not, but if it either were clear to him you prayed it was the latter. At least with that you could try to spare yourself some pride and play it off as a heart attack or something.

Thankfully, it doesn't seem like you'd have to put your acting skills to the test more than you already have today because Jack doesn't comment on your appearance. Instead, you hear him huff and the bed suddenly whine out under his weight.

You look back as much as you can and, though you will yourself not to completely turn around, you manage to make out what he's doing.

You wish you hadn't.

You wish you hadn't looked...because seeing the mere cusp of his fangs peeking out from under his smirking lips has you biting your lip. Simply his giant, fit stature propped up and folded with sudden confidence from your words has the invisible hands tugging at your heartstrings ten times more than they had been before and, sevens, the way he speaks — the baritone that rumbles his throat with every word and has him speaking every one of them with a light growl — goes straight through you.

"Heh, like hell I'll ever give up on my goals because of a little setback like this," He tells you, "Just you wait.. I'll make the team, and when I do, you better be in those stands watching me so you can see the moment I take home the victory!"

You can't help the grin that crosses your expression.

Oh you'll be watching all right. Front and center and wishing that one of his opponents are in possession of some strong magical spells — preferably ones capable of blowing his shirt clean off so you can get a good eyeful of his six pack again without having to lift a finger.

You move to open your laptop, but your boyfriend interferes again, putting a hand on top of yours. 

“Ya, it’s late. There’s more time to do papers tomor- uh, no. Later, I mean.”

He’s right. To be honest, you’ve kind of been waiting for a reason to stop with this never-ending horde of paperwork. 

With the reconstruction of the Tachikawa base, lots of staff and officers had to be relocated. As the medical professional assigned to the division’s officers, you were in charge of sending endorsement notes and other reports to other division professionals, and providing updates about the new hires.

With a nod of your head, you close your laptop, letting his hand guide you. There’s now a softness to his smile.

“You’ve done enough work today.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, causing you to blush a little. 

Thank goodness the security camera system in the medical wing is still in need of repair.

“Hoshina,” you giggle and whisper. “Stop. You need to stop bribing me with kisses.”

“But they work, don’t they?”

You groan in response, but both of you know the truth. 

Hoshina, bless the man, finally rounds the corner of your desk so he can stand next to you. You turn your desk chair to face him, and with open arms, you let him crawl into your lap.

“You’re like a damn cat,” you snort, as you feel the weight of his body press into you.

“Meow.”

Instantly, the two of you snicker. He wraps his arms around you, laying his head on your shoulder.

“It’s fun practicing my stealth skills to get alone time with you,” he whispers in your ear. “But, I also want to show ya off.”

“I know. Me too. I wonder how the Director General did it.” You sigh. “The Shinomiyas were truly the power couple of the Defense Force.”

“We should be the next one.” Hoshina leaves a kiss on your cheek this time. “Soon.” 

“Soon,” you nod in agreement.

There weren’t any hard rules against having relationships with people within the Defense Force. However, you knew that relationships between superiors and subordinates were controversial. 

Even if the relationship was consensual, the imbalance in authority raised ethical concerns. At least there was the option for one to be reassigned or promoted, instead of forcing the relationship to dissolve right away.

With you and Hoshina, at least you had no issues regarding power dynamics. He was the vice-captain, and you were the head medical officer. You’re both on equal footing within the Third Division—you could give each other orders without question.

However, the concern about keeping things quiet was more about preserving your privacy. Word traveled around the division pretty quickly. Hoshina is also the kind of person who draws attention to himself, no matter where he goes. 

Ever since you decided to work here a few years ago, your co-workers had gossiped about him. The fact that he was voluntarily going to your office or laboratory during work hours had raised questions. 

“Why does he keep asking for you? He’s never had this many questions for the medical department.”

“What did you do? He seems so interested in you!”

And even though you didn’t have an answer to their questions, you were bad at hiding that you might have had a teeny tiny crush on the vice captain. Your coworkers’ teasing after they found out was relentless. They decided to play matchmaker, too.

Now, your coworkers were lovely people, and knew when to back down when needed. However, what you were afraid of were the other officers and staff in the division that you weren’t close to—people who didn’t know you well enough to prevent inaccurate assumptions or rumors.

If anything about your relationship got out, you were terrified of the gazes that would follow you everywhere you went. You didn’t want questions from people who did not need to know every detail. 

You and Hoshina have also reached the starting points of your personal dreams within the Defense Force. It was scary to think about the ways your reputation and credibility could be affected if more people started seeing you in a less professional light. Well, maybe that’s a stretch, but you didn’t want people considering your relationship a workplace distraction. 

(And, of course, a part of you hopes it won’t happen, but what if things don’t work out? You’ll be the talk of the town for who knows how long.)

“Hey.” Hoshina pokes your cheek, startling you out of your daze. “You zoned out.”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

You gaze at the way Hoshina’s face is pressed against your chest. In the time you’ve spent thinking, he has visibly relaxed and melted into you. It’s cute, really, how he can finally be like this around you, instead of being the one who always offers himself as the shoulder to lean on.

“You’re adorable,” you say without thinking.

“I know.” His fangs peek out a little with his cheeky grin. “That’s why you like me.”

You snort, kissing the top of his head. 

Suddenly, there’s a sharp knocking on your door. The two of you shoot up in alarm.

“Crap.”

You point to the bottom of your desk, which is thankfully covered all around. “Get in there,” you whisper-shout as he attempts to cram himself into the space.

“Come in!” you call out at the second round of knocking.

When the door opens, you see Okonogi…a rather sleep-deprived Okonogi, at that. You can only imagine the kinds of things she’s been handling at the operations division.

“Hi, Okonogi. What can I do for you?”

“I’m just taking a break,” she smiles at you. “Wanted to check in on you, fellow night owl.”

“Thanks. I actually might go and sleep after a few minutes. I can’t take any more of the endorsement notes. The medical abbreviations are no longer making sense to me.”  

She laughs lightly. “I can totally understand. I can’t even remember what the codes and abbreviations on my reports stand for either.”

“What a pain,” you comment, shaking your head.

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask you something personal, if that’s alright.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows raise. “Shoot away.”

“Please be honest with me. Are you and Vice-Captain Hoshina together?”

Your eyes widen. Hoshina remains silent, but you can feel him squeeze your ankle a little.

“Me? And Ho- Vice-Captain Hoshina?”

“Sorry, I know it’s a surprising question. It’s just that two of you have been acting differently around each other lately.” Okonogi scratches the back of her neck. “I didn’t know if I was overthinking it or what, but you both couldn’t keep your eyes off of each other in the debriefing meeting today. And a couple of other meetings before that.”

“Oh. Um.”

“Actually, besides that…Vice-Captain Hoshina, you can come out from your hiding spot.”

“Wh- What are you talking about?”

“He’s under your desk, isn’t he?”

You can see him freeze in surprise.

“No? I don’t-”

“And if I go over and check myself?”

“What? No, you don’t- I mean…I-”

Okonogi takes a few steps forward, and you’re about to protest, but Hoshina crawls out and reveals himself.

“Yes. Okonogi. I’m here. Incredible. I expected nothing less from you.”

“Mhm.” She regards him with an unimpressed stare. “Okay. Listen, the cameras here have started working again. It’s a pretty good thing that I’m friends with the security officers during this shift.” 

“Oh.” A chill runs through your body.

“They gave me the update on the cameras, so I went over to check how the footage was. Then, the officer tells me that they saw Vice-Captain come here to your office, and they were wondering what reason he'd have to visit outside of regular office hours.”

“Well. I had…medical questions.” Hoshina tilts his head.

“Then why were you hiding under the desk?”

“I was…uh…”

“Okonogi?” You pipe up.

“Mm?”

“Would you be mad or anything if I said that we were in a relationship?”

Recognition flashes in her eyes. “No. I wouldn’t be. I was expecting it at some point, to be honest. The Vice-Captain’s also been talking about you a lot more often. I don’t even think he realized.”

You hear a small ‘oops’ coming from Hoshina.

“So, it’s true that you’re together?”

You and Hoshina look at each other. Okonogi is someone you both trust wholeheartedly, so the two of you nod.

“Okay.” A smile appears on her face. “That’s good. So, you’ve been trying to keep it a secret, I assume?”

“Yes,” Hoshina responds. “I didn’t want to bring untoward attention to them.”

“I felt the same way about him as well,” you add.

“Mm. I understand,” Okonogi hums. “That’s actually why I asked. The security officer seemed a little curious. Luckily, I made up an excuse about sending the vice-captain to the medical department earlier in the day.”

“That was a close one,” you sigh. “Thanks for covering, Okonogi.”

“Any time,” she waves a hand. “Anyway, considering what I’ve walked in on, I suppose the two of you are having trouble getting time alone without being suspicious.”

Hoshina laughs nervously. “Their co-workers have gotten rather curious about how often I visit. But their office or the library are our safest spots at the moment.”

Okonogi inhales deeply, pausing to think about something. “Okay. Well, do you guys remember that small storage room in my office?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Come to think of it, I’ve never been inside it,” Hoshina comments. “Well, I tried to check, but you shooed me away.”

“Hmph. You’re too nosy, Vice-Captain,” Okonogi rolls her eyes. “But I was thinking of letting you guys use that room whenever you’d like to see each other. Not too suspicious since it’s my office, and we have reasons to talk to each other often.”

“Wait. You’re seriously letting us…” You blink at her. “Are you sure? What about all the stuff inside?”

“I’ve started organizing things and clearing the room out, actually. The operations team has started digitizing more files too, so there’s no need to keep the older papers.” Okonogi waves her hands around as she explains. “I’ve also thought of donating my older collections of mystery novels and other books to the library. They’re just collecting dust in there…”

You and Hoshina glance at each other again, but this time, there’s no worry or fear on both of your faces.

“Okonogi? You are a godsend,” you immediately hug her, cutting her off in the middle of her ramble.

“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t say I’m a godsend, but you’re welcome,” she says, adjusting her glasses. “At the very least, the couch inside will actually be used for sitting, instead of holding up piles and boxes of stuff.”

“There’s a couch?!” Hoshina exclaims in disbelief.

“Yes. Please don’t do anything unacceptable on it,” she narrows her eyes.

“No! We’d never- Oh my gosh.” You hide your face in your hands. 

“Okonogi, why are you only looking at me?” Hoshina whines.

“You know very well.”

“I don’t.”

“Promise, Okonogi. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s still your place after all. Thank you so much.” You bow to her in gratitude, and Hoshina does the same.

“You’re welcome.” She exhales, looking at her watch. “Well, I’m gonna get back to the last bit of my work. Wanna check out the spare room?”

“Sure. ‘Bout you, Hoshina?”

Your boyfriend agrees in response, patting your shoulder.

“Okay. Let me just shut my computer down.”

Hoshina takes care of the air conditioning unit and the lights, and the three of you leave your office.

By the time you all arrive at Okonogi’s spare room, she leaves the two of you to it. 

When you sit down on the couch that she talked about, the fact that it is now three in the morning suddenly hits.

“Man, I’m tired,” you yawn, sinking into the leather cushion. Hoshina plops down beside you, also seeming to realize his exhaustion.

“Something tells me we’ll end up sleeping here,” he mutters with a soft giggle, pulling you closer to him by the waist.

“Guess we’ll fall asleep in our work clothes again.” You rest your head on his shoulder. “Better set an alarm so we have time for a quick shower or change of uniform before clocking in tomorrow.”

You whip your phone out for a short moment, making sure you actually set an alarm, lest the two of you get in trouble for going missing tomorrow. Or…later, to be more accurate.

“Glad we can do this without having to worry much,” Hoshina whispers, giving you one last kiss on the lips.

You smile against his kiss, closing your eyes. “Me too. Also, I know I’m guilty, but please don’t stare at me too much during the next meeting. Your squinting still can’t hide it well.”

“Hush.”

As if he’s heard your thoughts, he puts down his phone. “You really wanna do this?” He asks as he yawns, raising his arms in the air while doing so.

Even though Bakugo might act rash and hot-headed most of the time, like a boiling kettle on the verge of exploding, he’s very gentle deep down — contrary to popular belief.

He’s rough at the edges but soft around the corners.

“Well, there’s no going back.” You offer him a small and sincere smile. The AC hums quietly in the background, and Bakugo sits just right to shield you from the streaming and almost blinding sunlight that seeps through the curtains.

The blonde merely shakes his head, looking frustrated. “That was a yes-or-no question, dumbass.” He grumbles, eyeing you for a response. “Well, in that case, yes.” You say, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Granted, you’re a bit awkward. This is all new to you. How do you know where to put your hands? Do guys really make *that* expression before they’re going to kiss you? All these unspoken rules you should follow to be a “good kisser” are messing with your head.

Besides, Bakugo was the one to offer you this, so it’s not wrong for Bakugo to do all the work and to guide you through your first kiss, is it? 

You watch him for a moment, and you feel warm under his lingering gaze. His eyes dart from your right eye to your left, they sway downwards to your mouth, and..wait.

“Are you seriously doing the triangle method on me?” You half-shout and inch away from him, flabbergasted by what he’s done.

“I did not.” He shouts back, a rosy tint painting his cheeks, obviously and profoundly embarrassed by his action.

“Oh, you so did. You’re so cringy.“ The laugh you let out is genuine — a cackle that echoes through the dorm. “Let me be so bold and guess.” You start, a coy smile quirking at your lips. “You’ve never had your first kiss either.”

Bakugo just rolls his eyes, looking like a pouty child who just got caught red-handed. “To be the number one hero, I shouldn’t let myself get distracted by things like relationships.” He growls and looks away from you, pretending that all of a sudden, the white wall is so interesting.

But his ears tell otherwise, they’re flushing in a crimson red, hinting at his nervousness.

“Tell me,” You coo at him, teasing him now. “What made you wanna kiss me?” You pause and gently nudge his face, wanting him to look at you. “Afraid someone else is gonna kiss me first?” 

The redness on his cheeks and ears spread so fast, it’s almost funny. Your suspicions are confirmed after he doesn’t answer your prior question. 

Seeing Bakugo in such a state, his lips constantly opening at every question you ask, as if he’s about to retort but staying silent, was cute.

A newfound sense of confidence washes over you, and you decide to use it to your advantage.

“Never thought I’d ever call you cute, but here we are.“ You chuckle almost ironically. “C’mere.” You softly grab his face, enveloping his cheek in the palm of your hand. 

You smile as he doesn’t resist. “What’re you so dumb for?” He says flatly, but his rosy cheeks betray him.

His cheek feels warm in your hand in a comforting and fuzzy kind of way. Almost like a fervent fire that lends you its warmth on a cold winter's night.

“Nothing.” Bakugo doesn’t even have time to respond with a snarky remark before you decide to press your lips on his. 

The blonde is taken aback, eyes widening in surprise, but is still quick to close them and kiss you back.

His lips are soft and pillow-like. Knowing Bakugo, he probably chaps them. You can feel his lips clumsily trying to match your rhythm, and how his hands find your waist, gently steadying his hold there. 

Just as you’re about to find the perfect pace, you pull away. Breath all shaky and trembling. Bakugo opens his eyes, also not looking particularly better than you. 

“Let’s just never talk about this again.” You’re the first to speak up, voice slightly quivering. “Agreed, though we both know I’m the better kisser now.” He says all cocky.

“You seem to take a lot of pride in that despite looking like a complete mess.” Bakugo opens his mouth, ready to drop another comment, but once again, you’re quick to cut him off by pressing a peck onto his lips.

You retreat your lips from his and smile. “Is that the only way to shut you up?”

“Guess you gotta try again to know.”

and maybe he shouldn’t have because what it really left him with was emptiness, a hollow that goodbyes without blame carve deeper than any fight ever could. sometimes he wished it had ended badly; resentment was better than longing, at least then he could build walls out of spite instead of drowning in what-ifs and maybes. but then again, anger is still love on its own.

time would teach him indifference, that numbness would come like a grace—but all it ever did was sharpen the edges of his yearning. still, he sat there, shoulders hunched against the storm, convincing himself that this silence was necessary, that it was kinder to both of you.

so maybe he really shouldn’t be holding his phone, staring at the same 12-digit number that should have been erased months ago. his finger shouldn’t be hovered over the call button, trembling with the weight of a thousand unsent messages, of sleepless nights where he rehearsed conversations he knew would never happen. what good would it do if he pressed it now—would your voice, unfamiliar yet achingly known, stitch the hollow shut or tear it wider? would it make him less miserable, or only remind him that some distances can’t be closed by a ringing tone? he wondered if you’d even answer, if your phone still carried his name the way he still carried yours, or if he was the only fool clinging to echoes that had long since faded for you.

he wonders what you’re doing right now, if the rain outside your window sounds the same as it does against the shed roof above him. it’s already late, too late for anyone to still be awake without reason, and yet he knows how your mind lingers on things long past bedtime. he wonders if you’re curled up in bed with a book you’ll never finish, or if you’re laughing softly at a message lighting up your phone. he wonders what’s keeping you awake tonight, and what was their name.

would it hurt to know even just for a little bit?

“what am i even doing?” phainon groans and ruffles his hair in frustration, phone clenched tightly in his hands still. the display of your profile and name glares at him mockingly. and as life would have it, one thing have turned to another, when a loud horn from a vehicle blaring through the night has startled him just as the light buzz of alcohol had consumed his head, and suddenly, the screen shifted to a different display. all it took was three seconds to undo months of carefully built restraint.

three seconds of the moment, three seconds of its ringing, three seconds of his panic as it happens, and suddenly, “hello?” your voice rings out from the other line and it feels like he had been punched in the gut. “phainon?” for a moment, his breath hitched. the realization that you still have his number saved feels a little more like salvation in this heavy, cold rain.

“hey,” phainon nearly stuttered, but his tone obviously had faltered when he had uttered your name right after. he’s entirely not sure what to do in the face of something unexpected, despite the fact that he had meticulously prepared and rehearsed inside his head a hundred times already.

you echo, “hey,” pausing for a moment before continuing with your line, "why did you call?”

“i…” he goes silent for a moment. what was he even thinking? calling you like this—despite how it was an accident, but the thought was there and the anxiety too—, was he expecting for you to come back? 

but then he hears your voice once more, resonating and echoing louder than his thoughts, reminding him of the love and the smallest parts of his that are still yours—the corners of his heart that are only engraved with your name and yours only.

“how have you been?” perhaps you sensed his hesitation, thus you asked.

albeit that single question made him want to cry. it was not noble nor something profound, not shocking nor anything that amounts to his desperation, but simple. so ordinary it could have belonged to anyone, yet it came from you. the words pressed against the bruises he thought time had dulled, tore at the silence he had carefully and slowly gotten used to.

“i’ve been okay. how about you?” he wanted to tell you the truth: that he hadn’t been okay, that the nights blurred into bottles and unfinished thoughts, that every quiet moment felt like drowning. but instead, he swallowed it down, forcing a steadiness he didn’t feel. what right did he have to bleed his grief onto you?

“i’m alright, still doing the same things,” you say with an awkward laugh, “it’s raining hard, isn’t it?” your voice comes out low, unsure, as if you really don’t know why you’re asking such things but you still do anyways. you don’t know if it was curiosity, boredom, or concern that overcame you like a rushing tide, but you ought to ask anyway.

phainon hums, “yeah, it’s been raining all night.”

“the roads must be flooded again.”

he gazes into the stretch of the streets and darkness kept at the edges where the amber light cannot reach before answering, “probably, i saw a car stall earlier.” silence in a moment’s hesitation as he awaits for your answer, his own mouth opening and closing as he scrambles to utter whatever just to keep the conversation going, but all that comes out of him is nothing. once more, it was you that shattered the quiet.

“come to think of it, it was raining when we first met.”

the memory of it flashes inside his head, unfolding like a scene from a movie. somehow, there’s a familiar warmth that dwells in his eyes and a heavy feeling in his chest. he’s all too familiar with the burden of it—after all, he had spent many nights dealing with the heaviness that embraced his bones.

he replies, “it was night too. you were stranded in the rain and didn’t have an umbrella.”

“i know,” you say, “then you came and saved me like a dashing hero. you looked really cool back then. well, you are dashing and cool.”

phainon smiles to himself, tearing his gaze away from his surroundings and down to the ground, fixes it on the crevices that lay beneath his feet. “i don’t think i’m that dashing.” he murmurs, the words carrying a hesitant laugh that dies almost as soon as it’s born. you’ve always said otherwise—always told him he’s handsome, that his eyes are mesmerizing, that even the way his hair fell messily over his forehead made him unfairly captivating—and even now, you still insist.

“no, you are, and i still think you do. you’ve always been charming.”

“charming? i don’t think anyone’s ever called me that.”

“well, i just did,” you laugh, “and i’m not just anyone, you know?”

phainon could only hum in response, unable to say anything, allowing silence to fall in between you and him. he swears, he could see you, he could see himself. he could see the ‘us’ who were giggling under the shed, waiting for the rain to pass by. the ‘us’ that talked about houses and families, and weddings, and vows. and he’s ashamed to say, to speak of such simple, small things, because he knows for others, it’s nothing, but to him, it was everything. he could have lived his life knowing just how your hand felt in his, without ever tasting the sweetness of your lips, and he could have been content with that.

he tries to find the right words to say in the cracks of pavement and in his trembling hands, but all he can stupidly come up with is: “have you eaten?” it feels a little clumsy at most, so small and thoughtless, a few words tinged with desperation and longing to know about the little details of your tonight. whether you’ve sat down for dinner, whether you’re warm, whether the world has been kind to you in his absence.

“just some noodles, nothing special. what about you? eaten yet?”

“had some dinner earlier. ate some sandwiches too but it wasn’t that good.”

“you never did like sandwiches,” you answer, “you’ve always been a salad type of guy.” 

perhaps it was his delusional self thinking of you too much that he imagined the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips when you spoke. even inside his head, even in his thoughts, you are still as radiant as the first night he had fallen for you—still the person who knew him in all the smallest ways that mattered, the ones no audience could ever notice, the ones no crowd could ever cheer for. it guts him, how you remember his distaste for something so mundane as sandwiches, as if no time has passed at all, as if the quiet between you hadn’t turned into an ocean he’s been drowning in.

“guess some things never change,” even though everything has.

at this point, it was painfully obvious that this call was going nowhere, that there was nothing to be done in this conversation, that everything there will ever be. would it have been easier if he just didn’t ask?

“is it cold where you are?” your questions never falter and he likes to fall into the illusion that you, too, are curious about him and perhaps, long for him still in the same way he does.

“a little,” he answers, his breath fogging in the night air, “the rain makes it colder.” phainon was still outside, after all. though the rain’s becoming softer and easier now, the air clung damp against his skin, carrying that faint chill that seeps underneath his skin no matter how tightly one folds their arms.

“don’t catch a cold now.” you say gently, and it’s nothing, really, but phainon swallows hard because it feels like everything. for a fleeting second, he closes his eyes and lets himself pretend that you’re not worlds apart, that you’re still his, and that warmth could reach him across the rain.

“i’ll try not to.” he could only say as his grip tightens around the phone, knuckles whitening as if the fragile device could anchor him to you, to the version of his life from months ago where you’re still there to slip your hand into his.

“mm, you still listen to music when it rains?”

“yeah. i came from a jazz bar earlier.”

“jazz? that’s new.” you say, the hint of surprise catching in to your tone as you speak.

phainon cannot help the laugh that slips unsteadily from his throat, light and almost ticklish against the heaviness in his chest. “started listening to it a few weeks ago. it makes the night quieter somehow.”

it was undeniable that there are a lot of things you don’t know about each other now. phainon feels it in the pause, in the silence that lingers a little longer than necessary, in the hesitation that slips between your words. he hates it; he hates how foreign you feel now as if he never once had you remembered beneath the palm of his hands, as if he never once had your warmth against his skin, as if everything was nothing, and this nothing was everything.

“that’s good, then.”

lingering in the here and there, all of this boils down to one thing: still, this is why he loves you.

“it’s getting late now.”

“yeah, you should rest. sorry for keeping you up.” phainon apologetically says, though he doesn’t wish for this call to end.

“no, it’s alright. i’m glad you called.”

“...thanks for answering.”

he would have expected for it to end already, but both of you still remain on the line as if there are still more things to say that the night refuses to swallow. phainon clings to the silence that endlessly stretches, his own being refusing to let go of this moment and allow it to simply rot with regret in the edges of his room; he clings to the fragile hum of your breathing through the receiver, to the illusion that this lingering means something more than hesitation. 

phainon knows the fall of his stubbornness and desperation will end in something terrible but he doesn’t waver because the drop is the only place where you and him still exist together.

“it was nice, wasn’t it?” you say, your voice breaking through the quiet like a pebble tossed into still water, rippling outward until it reaches the corners of phainon’s chest. he shuts his eyes and for a moment he’s back there—soaked under that first rain, laughing at nothing, chasing the tomorrows you both believed would come.

“it was nice.” he answers, the words catching in his throat, sharp and brittle with everything he doesn’t say. it truly was.

“goodnight, phainon.”

call ended, 1:43.

maybe or may not be inspired from real life events

“Heyyy!” Hizashi calls from down the hall. “Are you ready for- Ah. Clearly…not?”

“Ready for what?” Aizawa furrows his eyebrows.

“We have the exam refreshers for some general education students at nine. English and Science for the second years.”

Everything hits you like a speeding truck. 

“Fuck!” You stand from your chair. “I haven’t even showered after evening patrol yesterday.”

That was the last thing you wanted to say in the presence of your co-workers—you can feel the stares of the other faculty members from the kitchen—but the frustration coursing through your body is starting to get overwhelming.

“No wonder you look worse than me.” Aizawa snorts into his cup of coffee. “It’s fine. It happens. Just go and wash up. Hizashi can make some excuse about a last-minute emergency for you.”

“Yeeeeeeep!” Hizashi gives you a thumbs-up. “No worries. I can wait for you. I’ll inform the class representatives.” 

“Thank you, Zashi. I’ll be more mindful next time.” You glance at your mess of notes and outlines on the table. “Oh my god, I literally have to clean this up.” When you tap the trackpad of your laptop, the screen remains black. “And of course, it’s dead.”

“Shoo, I’ll take care of it. Go.” Aizawa waves you off in the opposite direction. Despite his indifferent tone, you know that you’ll come back to a neater arrangement of papers and a slightly charged device. 

So, you run to your dorm room with fewer things on your mind, but you know that this is just the beginning.

You spend the rest of the day answering questions and going over topics repeatedly, given the number of students who attended the refreshers.

With every hour that had passed, your energy gradually drained away. Shifting between various topics is a serious mental gymnastic hell of its own. It didn’t help that you didn’t feel like socializing at all after your rushed morning, but what could you do?

Eventually, you found yourself apologizing frequently when you couldn’t explain something as clearly, or when you had trouble understanding what a student was confused about. At least seven different students (you lost count) had asked if you were okay, and by then, you just wanted to disappear from the world for a while.

By the time all the refresher sessions have concluded, you spend an extra thirty minutes leaning your head against the teacher’s table. Hizashi had come in to fetch you, but you told him to go ahead, too exhausted to start the long walk back. 

Honestly, you didn’t even want to go back, because it meant there was more work on your desk waiting for you. But, again, you don’t have a choice. There’s another school day tomorrow, so you slowly trudge back to Heights Alliances.

You’ve probably spent an hour and a half sitting on a bench outside the teachers’ dorm before the main doors open and close behind you.

“Hey,” Aizawa takes a seat next to you. “Why’re you out here?”

“Dunno,” you mutter with a frown. “Don’t wanna be in my room.”

“Mm.” He crosses his legs, making himself comfortable. 

Honestly, you don’t even know why he’s here. It’s cold out, and you know he’d rather be warm, snuggled up in his cozy yellow sleeping bag. 

(And honestly? You’ve recently started to understand why he lugs that thing with him wherever he goes. If you could sleep anywhere and everywhere, you would. If only you didn’t care so much about your appearance or whatever. Maybe you should stop caring as much? But also, no—you need to give the faculty and Principal Nezu a very good first impression if you want to keep teaching at UA.)

“Did something happen during the refresher?” 

“No. Nothing happened. I’m just…tired.” You run a hand down your face. “It’s gonna be a fucking Monday again and I have to get my homeroom class together as usual, then teach the first-year and third-year biology classes. I mean, I love biology, but sometimes I want to rip my hair out when I have to teach the kids genetics, then switch to cellular respiration in the afternoon.”

“I’ve honestly forgotten all of that sciencey stuff except for a bit of the genetics. No offense.”

“None taken. I die a little inside every time I pass by a classroom Ectoplasm’s teaching in.”

“My problem children tell me enough about that.” Aizawa huffs. “Unfortunately, I can’t help them with calculus.”

“To each their own,” you sigh.

“Yeah.”

The next few minutes pass in silence. You’re not really sure what you want to say—it’s not uncomfortable, considering how many spaces you’ve shared with Aizawa when Hizashi isn’t around, but there’s also something heavy as it hangs in the air.

“I know I’m not the best at following my own advice and being open or whatever,” Aizawa starts, “but are you okay?”

“I…” The words die in your throat. “I don’t know. I mean, are any of us actually okay?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

“Wh- Fuck, is this what you do with your students?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

Aizawa sighs, but you don’t feel the usual irritation in it. “I’m sure you’d know, as a homeroom teacher.”

“I do. I do.” You laugh, a little too bitterly. “I’m just not used to having it done on me.”

“I see. Anyway, are you okay?” He emphasizes the question, reminding you that he will not leave you alone until you answer.

“I mean, you saw everything this morning. I think you know the answer.”

Aizawa faces you, raising his eyebrows. “The answer is…?”

“Oh, for-” You look up towards the sky and inhale deeply.  “Fine. No. I’m not okay.”

“Good.” Aizawa sits back against the bench’s backrest. “We’re past the denial stage.”

“Mm. What’s next, anger?” You quip.

“You’re not so bad at this after all. So, what the heck’s bothering you?”

“What’s bothering me?” Flashbacks of the past few hours—heck, even weeks and months—play in your mind. “I just…how do you keep up with it all?”

“Why are you answering my question with a question?” He squints. “And what is giving you the impression that I’m keeping up with anything?”

“You just answered my question with a question.”

“Ah, fuck,” Aizawa, for once, laughs a little. “You got me. But, seriously, I don’t have it all together. You know how I am. I’m honestly glad that my students respect me well enough to listen-”

“You threaten to expel them every year, don’t you?”

“True. But teaching and handling lively groups of aspiring heroes is one of the hardest jobs to have. They’re always such a bright-eyed, headstrong, way too self-sacrificial bunch.”

“Mm. 1A, your beloved problem children.”

“Exactly why I call them that. I’ve been summoned to countless meetings and visits to Recovery Girl’s office. That and teaching, grading, coming up with all these simulated missions, losing sleep that I can’t be bothered to keep a consistent pattern anymore, my quirk that just had to make me prone to dry eye…the list goes on. I’m just getting by. Most of us are, if you ask them.”

“Yeah, but how do you- I mean, don’t you ever just wish…”

“Hm?” Aizawa tilts his head.

“It’s just, you know those days when you have to show up and perform and be your best self, but you actually feel like utter shit, but it’s not like you have a choice?”

“I mean, that’s sometimes an entire week for me, so, yes. Go on.”

“It’s the aspect of hero work that I found most draining when I was studying at UA. People will always expect you to be at your best, and I get that. There’s always some threat lurking around the corner that could easily tip the balance of society. Well, not that I think it’s balanced or fair, but it could be so much worse.

“But, back to what I was saying, it’s the reason why I prefer underground hero work. Not a lot of cameras, interviews, and attention compared to the average pro hero.”

“Exactly. It’s great to have a space for heroes like us,” he says.

Heroes like us…

“Yeah. It’s great to be able to do my job without all the extra pleasantries and media engagements. Behind-the-scenes work is a godsend, which is why I…”

You shift in your seat, preparing yourself to admit it out loud.

“Sometimes, I’ve wondered if I can survive teaching in the long run. I want to be at my best for these kids, but I’m always reminded that I have limits. And yeah, I am a human being, but I have responsibilities to uphold. It just takes a lot of energy, keeping up the teacher persona, you know?”

“Teacher persona?”

“Something a bit more engaging and approachable than my usual personality. I’m still working on it, but, yeah, basically how we present ourselves as teachers and heroes.”

“Hmm. Then, I suppose I do have a teacher persona too,” Aizawa ponders. “But over the years, especially recently, I’ve let parts of myself shine through, whether I intended to or not. My students have had so many close calls that being strict or less hands-on with them isn’t always a good idea.

"I teach because I don’t want these kids getting into things they can never come back from. I want them to think and be careful, because spirit alone isn’t going to help you survive as a hero.”

You can’t help but grin at his sentiments. “That’s fair. And actually kind of sweet.”

“Do not share a word of this to them.”

“I won’t.”

“With the way you’re smiling like that, I don’t trust you.”

“No, I won’t! I’m pretty sure they already know how much you care about them anyway.”

“Whatever,” he scoffs, but you swear his face is a little bit flushed. “So, yes, I have a teacher or work persona, but it’s not that far off from who I am. I’m not trying to pretend to be someone I’m not; it’s just a different side of me. And, if I can’t keep it up at times? The world won’t end. You will have those days, and it’s fine. Principal Nezu will only have your head if you’re careless or harming your students, which I doubt will ever happen.”

“The world won’t end, huh?” You sigh. “I guess it won’t.”

“Why’d you get into teaching anyway?”

“Teaching?” You point to yourself. “Oh. Well, I wanted to see if there were students who were like me. Inspire them and reassure them that you don’t always need to be this ‘huge presence’ to be a hero. That there are always ways for them to help. I used to be kind of sad about how I wasn’t as upbeat as my classmates. Thought there was something wrong with me, until I met a mentor who matched my personality. I’d like to be that kind of person for them. And well, there’s the bonus of getting to teach my favorite high school subject in a way that matters to them.”

“I see. Are you making progress in that regard?”

“I…I think so? There’s a kid in my homeroom class who reminds me of my past self. He started becoming more confident lately after I talked to him.”

You take a moment to think about your student. There was something he said last week that- 

“Oh, oh my god, even better! I gave him internship options based on our underground network, and he’s been enjoying it so far! He mentioned that he felt more at home compared to his experience in his first year.”

“Exactly. So, you haven’t failed at your job. You’re fine.”

“I…oh.”

“Try your best to hang on to the good moments in every day. There’s a reason you want to do this, even if it’s incredibly difficult. And it’s your first year of teaching, of course you’re in the adjustment period. Even All Might carries around a pocket manual for teaching tips.”

“He what?”

“Don’t tell him I saw,” Aizawa shakes his head. “But, seriously, if things are tough, just ask the other teachers for advice. None of them bite…except Hound Dog, maybe.”

The latter comment makes you burst into laughter. “Were you always this funny?”

He shrugs, barely able to conceal his grin. “Dunno. Could be Hizashi’s influence.”

“Nuh-uh! It’s a different humor." You grin. "Also, thanks for trying to make me feel better."

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” you roll your eyes. “But, really...thank you, Aizawa.”

“Agh...you're welcome. I figured you could at least end the day with a smile.”

He stands up from the bench, and you join him on the way in.

Does Yang Cheng like you? There are moments where you think he might.

But then you see the way he looks at Xia Qing. It's like the sun has risen when she enters the room. She draws his eye no matter what. You push down the lump in your throat whenever it's you who his attention diverts from. He doesn't look at you the same way. Does he know you look at him like that?

In comparison to him, you're a master at hiding your crush. He becomes a nervous wreck, stumbling over his words and coming up with odd excuses to spend time with her. Somehow that awkward behavior around her only makes you fall harder for him, heart pathetically speeding up at watching him fall for someone else. Wishing for something you can't have perhaps.

"He really likes her," Rock chats while bustling around behind the counter. You lean on your elbows, idly watching. "I've never seen anyone so head over heels. Or down bad? Is that what you kids say nowadays?"

"Hm…" Your heart twists, possibly hoping to wring out how those words affect you. Either way it's painful.

"I suggested he confess to her in the shop's special love seat, but he's clearly too nervous," Rock chuckles.

"Yeah…" How would Yang Cheng react if you confessed to him? A blush creeping onto his face as his heart visibly jumps in his chest? Or sheepishly rubbing his neck while turning you down and saying he has feelings for someone else?

"They'd be really cute together though, don't you think?" They would be. The ever kind student representative and the sweet dorky boy. Is it bad that you don't want it to happen? Hearing someone else say the words makes it feel all the more real though. Every ounce of emotion you hold for him seems illogical in the face of it. You really don't stand a chance, do you?

"Sure…is it just me or is it cold in here?" You don't wait for an answer before stepping away from the counter and out of the shop into the sunshine.

Does Yang Cheng like you? Does he notice how much you care? How much he's worrying you?

"Are you alright?" Catching sight of him on campus has you running to meet him. Honestly, you'd been keeping an eye out after seeing the videos of him saving Xia Qing's younger brother. Your eyes dart between the injuries still left on his face.

"Yeah, I'm alright." Your hand wants to reach up so you can assess the damage yourself, but his hand intercepts yours, electricity stinging your skin and causing you to wince.

"I'm sorry! Still getting used to it." Despite the shock, you still look to see the sweet and awkward boy you're familiar with.

"That's new, huh?" You laugh nervously, tucking your still tingling hand behind your back. Someone's touch being electric is meant to be a good thing, a sign of sparks between you. But this feels like a warning. Don't get too close or you'll get stung.

Does Yang Cheng like you? Every day it seems less and less likely.

He hangs out a lot with Xia Qing and Shang Chao now. You see him catch the bus with her after class and hear Rock's mumblings about how he hopes that boy shoots his shot as they grow closer.

Meanwhile, you grow ever farther. That seat next to you isn't occupied anymore, and he runs off before you can properly talk to him. It's not as if you were close though, merely classmates who hung out sometimes. Your first meeting had been by chance when he'd happened to take the seat next to you on the first day of school. The timidity of his voice when he asked if it was open is still clear in your mind. Will you slip out of each others' lives just as easily?

The world doesn't stop turning because of the ache in your chest though. You've finally gotten an amazing job offer from Treeman Corporation. It's on the rise as a hero agency, so it's a promising opportunity. Odd that it's a position very close to the CEO himself, but you can't let this go to waste. Besides, it may help you take your mind off other things.

Does Yang Cheng like you? If he did, he would stay.

You steal glances at him throughout Shang Chao's funeral. His fists clench at his side, blue eyes steeled. Your hand wants to reach out to his, but flinches away at the last second. In the end, no words are exchanged as you mourn your classmate side by side.

After that, the fallout of Yang Cheng challenging E-Soul is everywhere. Debates over who will win, who should win. In the hurricane of it all, you seek the boy who let you wear his jacket.

"I don't think you should do this." You catch him outside the warehouse he's been training in after prying the information out of Rock. He turns over his shoulder, looking at you but not quite turning to face you.

"You can't stop me." Your shoulders sag seeing the sharp glint in his eye and the scowl on his lips. And you're not quite sure who you're looking at anymore. Yang Cheng's right in front of you. Take one step and you could reach out to take his hand. So why are you having so much trouble finding him?

In an ideal world he would reconsider. He would notice the pain in your voice. He wouldn't walk towards that fight. Instead, you're left alone on a cold, dark night. You hug your arms around your chest, trying to hold yourself together and hold back the tears.

Did Yang Cheng ever like you? Maybe it was just a hope you foolishly held onto. You liked him though. There was never any question about that. From the day he chose to sit next to you, you liked him. The boy who was so effortlessly kind and hardworking. Who has always been a hero to you, saving you from merely being alone. Now that he is a proper one, will he still save you?

The Fear consuming you is like ice running through your veins, freezing you from the inside out. The frost overtakes your eyes, runs down your arms, leaves no part of you untouched. And there's no warmth left to stop it. Eventually, your heart will go cold too. At least it won't hurt so much.

Will Yang Cheng recognize you? Or will you be as unrecognizable as he is with that mask on? Or will he not care, striking you down as swiftly as he does every other villain?

So many questions that you will never know the answer to.

It's weird, at least it is for him. It is as if he could show you his bare self, almost without any fear. Almost. He'd be lying if he pretended he wasn't scared. He is afraid that you'd want to leave, that you see him the same way he sees himself. He is terrified with the idea of you abandoning him too, but at the same time, he would understand it. He wouldn't even try to blame you. After all, it would still be his fault.

He is ashamed and disgusted about the big amount of times he had thought you could ever truly love him. He is sure he shouldn't have such a heart like yours calling out his name, but it does, even if he refuses to acknowledge it.

—Hey, are you okay? —you asked, concern creeping in your tone—. You've been real quiet and serious today.

—Yeah, I'm totally fine —he replied, forcing a gentle smile so naturally that it actually made you doubt for an instance—. Don't worry.

You've known him for long enough to notice that subtle twitch on his faked expression though, but you hesitate, wondering if it's appropriate to insist, wondering if he would even think about telling you the complete truth one day.

His distinctive eyes followed one of the distant shooting stars, admiring the shiny and ephemeral trail it left behind. He was alone in the dark, adoring the night sky. Silence and solitude were his only companions.

A soft gasp escaped his lips with the desire to question the universe if he'd be able to experience freedom once again. Something he tells himself he can only dream of. He reminds himself about it every single day, every single night, every single time he dared just to imagine. It was always on his mind, or at least it was until he started growing closer to you. Unexpectedly.

Lonely nights became brighter, exhausting days became lighter, even the heavy weight he has been carrying for years became less painful. He found comfort in your honest words, in your tranquil silence, in your smile, in you. Could he be finally accepting your soft love?

It's still easier for him to bottle everything up and continue acting as if he doesn't care, as if his life was completely worthless. However, he now notices how you always extend a hand to him with the disposal of staying.

“No. It's surely just my imagination”, he thinks. “That's just what I want to believe. There's no way it could ever be possible.”

Oh, sweet silly guy. If only he knew how much you'd to wait for him. How much you want to stay with him when everything's falling down. With how much care you'd kiss his scarred soul and hold his lonely heart.

You know he's not perfect, in fact, you know how harmed he is. You can see it, and besides the ache it provokes in your chest, it weirdly makes you feel some comfort as well. Comfort of knowing you're not as alone as you felt before, of knowing he can understand you the same way you understand him; even at your worst. Maybe that's why all those quiet moments together do not feel awkward anymore, not since you both realized that.

You're both careful, too scared of ruining this unusual closeness you've built together, yet at the same time, desperate to make it deeper.

Together at night, watching the same starry sky he used to admire alone. Hands softly brushing each other; none of you courageous enough to make them fully touch, but also none of you wanting to separate them. The only audible thing around is the soft mumble of the wind.

—I can see why you spend so much time here —you said, enjoying the beautiful landscape.

—To be honest, it's not all because of the view —he answered when words finally stopped vacillating in his mouth.

—Then why?

Doubts filled his mind for a moment, making him move a hand out of your sight as he took a deep breath before speaking again. Fingers weakly trembling as he closed them into a hidden fist, successfully trying his best to maintain his composure.

—'Cause even if I am all alone in here, and even if I won't ever be free, somehow I can imagine that feeling while looking at the stars, while being just a few inches from falling down and becoming one of them as well... But it's different with you though.

—Why? —you replied, the only thing you were able to come up with after a few silent seconds.

—Because, as obvious as it may seem, I am not alone anymore.

A gentle and sincere smile slowly appeared on his lips, not brave enough to draw his gaze into yours. He could almost hear his heartbeat, anxious about risking that serendipitous intimacy you've grown together.

—I've been here all the time, you know? —you said then.

—Yeah, I know —he answered while dropping down his face, still with that piercing fear in his chest.

—Then why haven't you come to me?

—Because of the same reason you avoid coming to me too —he wretchedly exclaimed, almost interrupting your words with the impulse of his emotions.

He took another deep breath and talked again:

—We're both broken, it's complicated.

His eyes faded away from your figure one more time, not so sure where to look at.

—Yeah, I know... But I love you —you admitted out loud for the first time, feeling your heart rush when you realized what you just did.

Lips parted in astonishment as his shoulders dropped. His hand also stopped trembling, and he looked up at you once again, letting you notice a beautiful glimmer in his face.

—Love you too —he said smiling, different from most of the times he does, it was a genuine smile on his face.

You're both still scared, still doubtful, but neither of you could continue acting fool, not when the two of you were willing to heal together. You both saw clearly through each other, and you both cared for even the tiniest details, wishing to fully reveal your deep love at your own pace.

Memorabilia Passage.

On the first week, Kuroo found himself crying whenever he had time to keep himself occupied with thoughts of you in his head. On certain days, he would even wake up with tear streaks lining from his eyes—a clear indication he dreamt of you. On the second week, Kuroo had finally willed himself to stop crying over you. His eyes were less swollen but he found himself avoiding every mere mention of you—from going to places you often frequented to escaping a conversation that had a risk of your name being brought up—fearing it would trigger his emotional state once again. On the third week, Kuroo left you text messages and calls all day and night. During the day, he would tell you random updates of his life. But in the night, he would get more emotional, sometimes recounting things he missed about you. It buzzed your phone day and night, yet you never made a move to block him or silence the notifications. Every time you thought about it, your fingers wouldn't move to press the block button. By the fourth week, Kuroo seemed to have went back to normal. His usual cocky and confident demeanour kicking back in once again. He stopped texting you, your phone going back to its radio silence—what seemed almost abnormal to you now. It had took you a while to get used to how you would no longer wake up to a chain of messages from Kuroo, being the melancholic ex he was. Rather, he was back to being active on his socials, posting every single hangout he had with his bunch. A part of you wanted to take it as his way of updating you on his life, without looking too clingy. Since you had always checked his instagram stories. Even after your breakup. But in actuality, Kuroo was still struggling with the breakup. Every part of him longed to send another text. Tell you he missed you, once again. Tell you he seemed almost crazy, calling out to you to help him find something he might have misplaced in his own home, when you weren't even there. Until he found your lip balm, sitting in the drawers of his nightstand. He had been trying to find his pair of night reading glasses, which he had perhaps misplaced once again—sleepily placing them without much thought, somewhere he had forgotten one night before bed. He had initially intended to immediately return it to you, realising it was yours. The brand of lip balm which you had particularly loved using, claiming it was really effective for those dry lips of yours. It even had a scent. The sweet smell of berries. He had always thought how it suited you—your sweet and loving personality, the way you had always been so endearing to him. Without much thought, he brought the stick close to his lips, smearing it slightly over his lips—gently and carefully. It was just a stick of lip balm—one that you had used often. Yet, it was also a stick of lip balm which brought a small smile to his face. Wearing it felt like the aftertaste of your kisses. No matter how chaste your kisses were, you never failed to let him catch a whiff of your berry scented lip balm which you wore. It filled the longing in his heart for a short moment, enough for him to tuck the lip balm into his pocket. He had already lost the physical presence of you. He wouldn't wish to lose more of what reminded him of you.