#infiniteterritory

“that dolt... why’d he have to run away?” there’s a grumble as maki watches him stalk off with his tail tucked between his legs, brows drawn together. to thrust a present into her hands without giving her a chance to say something... not that she’s any better when it comes to these things, but still. what an idiot. 

it’s just chocolate. what’s the big idea? 

looking up from her gift, she holds her free hand to her mouth, calling after him: “IF THESE ARE BAD, YOU BETTER WATCH OUT! I’LL KILL YOU FOR RUINING MY FIRST WHITE DAY EXPERIENCE, OKKOTSU YUTA.”

heh. that’ll show him. but this box...

she stifles a snort, covering her mouth as her cheeks heat up.

                                       ❝  ---  eeYAH  --  !!  ❞

there’s always something so alarming about yuuta’s presence  ;  even though she’s come to recognize it, she can’t stop the yelp that leaves her lips as he emerges from the corner of her eye, speaking her name.                     as necessary as recovery is, she’s not quite certain she gathers herself fully when he comes to stand before her  --  and the first thing she notes, past the ever-present lines set beneath his eyes,   brimming with non-existent life,   is his smile.  (  and it’s like a reminder. that they are both the same, in some odd way.    two ridiculous children in a world full of horrible things.  )

❝  white day  ...  ?  ❞  it’d completely flown past her head. so busy in her own head, in everything from her classmates to her teachers, to helping her younger brother with homework in the morning over the phone, refusing a call from her father.    it’s as if it’s the first time she’s heard the word, from the expression upon her face, but then the realization comes and she notices just how  heavy  her hand has become.      not by any physical means  ;  but just the simple thought that he’d come to her of all people.

                     she doesn’t want him to look at her.                                              not when she makes such a face.

                  ❝  i - i see  . . .  ❞  she’s surprisingly quiet,   quieter than usual.  the hand that sits there, open and out, silently retreats behind her.   clutching the bag of chocolates with just enough strength to keep it from falling from between her fingertips  --  swinging with the sway of the wind.  ❝  gave it your best, huh  ...  ❞  where words lack her, she settles for repetition, and where repetition begins to run out, she settles for silence.

the pulse of her heart thrums in the ring resting upon her right hand.  for reasons beyond her own will, she finds it to be the thing she settles on as she lifts it up  --  a subtle form of reassurance. enough to filter words back from her throat. lips to metal, the side of her hand giving her features enough coverage to speak.

         ❝  i hate getting gifts and not being able to give something back, okkotsu-kun  ...  ❞  in receiving something so unapologetically.   with a smile that was much too warm for his eyes  --  and eyes that were much too cold for his true intentions.  ❝  but i  --  suppose i can look past it, this time .  ❞  time is a sacred rarity.     and in that moment, blue hues catching lightless black, she lifts the small gift from behind her  -  pressing it for a moment against the boy’s chest with a gentle push.  ❝  but if we share them, it’d be the same thing, wouldn’t it  ?  ❞  in her eyes, at the very least,   even as they struggle to hold his gaze.

Looking up and beyond the box blocking his view, Geto’s blank expression melts into one of sympathy. To think a box of chocolates is more embarrassing than, say, offering himself up to Geto on a silver platter dressed as a maid... Still, Satoru’s blushing, and that level of embarrassment is difficult to feign, even for somebody as skilled as his partner.

Slowly, he reaches for the present, but instead of accepting the sweet treat the way Satoru no doubt expected him to, his fingers bury into Satoru’s sleeve while he’s busy looking off to the side, yanking the other into his arms and silencing the startled yelp that comes out of Satoru’s mouth with his own.

“Clear your schedule,” he mumbles against his partner’s lips when he pulls away, leisurely peeling him out of the blindfold. just a hint of urgency to his actions.

    SOMETIMES HE WONDERS.  does gojou goes out of his way to be as irritating as possible, or is he really so dense as to not understand he’s acting like a child ?  admittedly, it’s worrying that someone megumi’s age has to consider this with regards to a fully-grown man.  ‘ nothing new, though ...  ’  he digresses, brow furrowing with exasperation. despite this immature side of gojou ...