#old posting

Fushimi Saruhiko had never been interested in Yata Misaki, one of the boys he had the…joy…of being in class with. Fushimi knew his name, as he did most of the people in his class, and that was about it. He had no desire to learn more. As far as he had observed, Yata was an idiot—a loud and obnoxious idiot.

And perhaps that was why Fushimi had been so captivated by him on the field that morning as he walked to class. Yata had looked so focused—his hazel gaze intent on the white disc in front of him, sweat trickling down his brow, the muscles in his legs rippling as he jumped to catch the disc. For a moment, Fushimi had forgotten to breathe, staring at the other. It was hard to believe Yata Misaki could ever look so damn…serious about something. It had been shocking, and his heart fluttered for the first time in a long time.

The grip on his schoolbag tightened as Fushimi tried to refocus his thoughts. Who cared about what made Yata Misaki look serious? It wasn’t as though the guy could make a career out of ultimate frisbee, the sport (if you wanted to call it that) was for morons and douchebags. But for some reason, Fushimi couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

He was so distracted, he didn’t have enough time to react when the frisbee flew from Yata’s hand and smacked Fushimi right in the face, between his nose and upper lip. Frozen in place, Fushimi groaned at how much his face hurt. It stung, and the hit had reverberated up into his skull. Already he could feel a bruise forming on his upper lip, and he tried desperately to figure out why he hadn’t noticed the giant flying disc coming straight for his face until it was far too late.

“SHIT!” A voice echoed in his ear as his vision began to clear, Yata Misaki’s visage appearing before him. “Oh shit!” he repeated, staring at Fushimi’s face.

“You already said that,” Fushimi snapped.

“Sorry, ugh. I’m sorry! Shit. Is your…uh…face okay? Oh shit! Your nose is bleeding!” he yelled, pointing right at Fushimi’s face.

“Just shut up,” Fushimi grumbled. Quickly, he raised a hand to his cover his nose. He leaned forward slightly and pinched the bridge of it, attempting to stop the bleeding.


“What are you doing?” Yata questioned, watching the strange way Fushimi stood.

“Trying to stop the bleeding,” he replied, his voice tight and nasal. “Do you really not know how to stop a nosebleed?”

“Uh…no?” Yata said sheepishly. “Look I’m really sorry,” he continued, rubbing his arm. “I figured for sure you’d move when the disc went flying in your direction, but you didn’t…”

“Tsk…” Fushimi clicked his tongue, not wanting to comment on that at all. He didn’t need Yata Misaki knowing he was staring at him.

“Can I at least walk you to the nurse’s office? You’re in my class, yeah? The quiet guy…Fushimi, right?” he smiled, as though he were doing Fushimi a large favor by walking him to the nurse’s room.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking myself to the nurse’s office,” Fushimi scoffed, walking past Yata.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help. I mean it’s my fault your face is swelling up—”

Still covering his face, Fushimi whipped his head around, immediately regretting it as his palm knocked against his upper lip. Wincing, he glared at Yata. “My face is swelling up?”

“W-well, um,” Yata stammered nervously. “Just a little bit…on your lip…” he said, leaning toward Fushimi again, his pointer finger trembling as he gestured towards Fushimi’s face.

Scoffing, Fushimi turned away and gripped his school bag harder as he trudged towards the school. “Fine. You can come with me. But don’t think this pardons you for hitting my face.” Stupid Yata Misaki, looking somewhat interesting while he played ultimate frisbee. It wasn’t even a real sport!

“I’m going to go walk Fushimi-san to the nurse!” Yata called out, waving to his teammates. “Heh…yeah, sorry,” he sighed, catching up to Fushimi to walk beside him. “So why were you watching us? Thinking about joining the team?”

“No.”

“We’re pretty good you know,” Yata bragged proudly. Fushimi wasn’t sure he could label their team as “good” after everything that was going on with his face and all. “We have two coaches, Kusanagi-sensei and Mikoto-san. Mikoto-san is amazing, but you know, now that I think about it, Kusanagi-sensei does most of the coaching…”

Fushimi rolled his eyes. “Are you planning on talking the whole way?” Fushimi asked, thinking this was by far the longest, most painful walk to school, and not because of the growing welt on his upper lip.

“Oh, uh…right,” he laughed awkwardly. “It probably hurts for you to talk,” he sighed. Fushimi chose to stay quiet, deciding it would be much better if Yata simply assumed he didn’t want to talk because of the pain on his lip. However with Yata now being quiet, Fushimi could’ve cut the tension in the air with a knife. Walking with Yata was frustratingly difficult, it was so clear the other boy wanted to babble on. Flicking his gaze to the side, Fushimi could see Yata biting on his lip, looking as though he were about to burst. This only made Fushimi walk faster. The quicker he was away from Misaki, the quicker he could resume the school day as he pleased.

~~

“So, tell me again what happened?” Awashima, the school nurse, asked, though Fushimi could see she was trying to hold back her chuckle.

“I hit Fushimi-kun in the face with a frisbee,” Yata muttered. His face was red, clearly embarrassed, though Fushimi wasn’t sure what he had to be embarrassed about. Fushimi was the idiot who hadn’t moved when the plastic disc had flown at his face.

“Can you move your hand for me, Fushimi-san?” she asked. “I need to take a look.” Resisting every urge to refuse, he slowly lowered his hand. Her eyes widened, and Fushimi thought she had a terrible poker face. “Ah, I see,” she said softly, swiveling her chair around to open the drawer. “Here.” She held out a small packet with over the counter painkillers. “Take two of these for now,” she smiled. “And let me get you some ice, these should help with the pain and swelling. Unfortunately that’s about all I can do,” she said.

“It’s fine,” he said, his tone clipped and harsh. “We’re already late to class anyway.” Fushimi didn’t enjoy being late to class. He much preferred to go, do his work, and sit peacefully while he waited for the rest of the class to catch up, or sit silently and take notes. He hated having the class stare at him for any period of time, and being late meant all eyes on him.

“Hmm. It looks like you’re going to have quite the large fat lip, Fushimi-san.” Awashima’s gaze was filled with pity, as she handed him the small bag of ice, and Fushimi tried not to click his tongue and forget the bag altogether. He didn’t know which was worse—holding a sack of ice on his lip, or watching it swell to the size of a baseball.

“Tsk. Great. Thanks,” he scoffed, standing up to leave the office. Awashima smiled, nodding her head to both of them as they left.

After a few moments of silence, Yata spoke. “It really doesn't look that bad.” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“First of all, I don’t need your reassurance to make me feel better,” Fushimi snapped, “and second of all, it looks like shit, so don’t lie.”

“You don’t gotta be such an ass about it! I’ve been trying to make you feel better all morning. I feel pretty shitty about what happened,” he grunted. Fushimi rolled his eyes. He should’vefelt bad, and while Fushimi was tempted to say that, his gaze fell upon Yata's, and for a split second he felt a little guilty. Though his brow was furrowed, Yata looked concerned, his hazel eyes fixated on Fushimi's lip. It was almost endearing, how much he seemed to care for Fushimi’s well-being, and if Fushimi hadn’t hated him in the current moment, he may have found it cute.

“Let's just get to class,” he muttered, turning away from Yata, so he wouldn't see his cheeks gain a slight hint of red.

~~

When Yata and Fushimi finally made it to the science lab, they opened the door, interrupting one of Weismann-sensei's famous introductory lectures—the ones that took so long, the class wondered if they would ever actually get to doing the experiment Weismann was taking his sweet time explaining thoroughly.

“Ah! Yata-san, Fushimi-san,” he called out, moving about the room in his typical over-eager manner. “So nice of you to join us for lab today,” he grinned. “Take a seat, take a seat. You two can be partnered together for today.”

Fushimi bit his lower lip and winced, wishing he had remembered that moving his teeth to his lower lip adjusted his upper in a strange manner. Still, he wasn't pleased about the assignment. He much preferred to be paired with Akiyama—he was quiet, and generally listened to what Fushimi had to say, which meant the experiment was completed in a timely manner. Sitting down next to Yata's enthusiastic form, Fushimi had a feeling nothing good was going to come from this partnership. Plus it didn't help that Fushimi had seen Yata and his regular lab partner, Kamamoto, explode half their experiments up to the damn ceiling before.

“Now remember class, this chemical is highly flammable and very toxic!” Weismann explained. “It's important that you follow all the instructions carefully and don't mess up!” he chuckled, a smile plastered on his face. “But don't worry, I trust you all can handle this.”

Fushimi let out a sigh, lowering the ice bag to the side of the table. His face felt numb, which was better than the 'in severe pain' alternative, but still it was unpleasant.

“Alright,” Yata cheered, clenching his hands into fists. “Let's do some science!” He grabbed the safety goggles and pulled them over his eyes, slapping them onto his face. Next, he picked up the gloves and pulled them over his fingers, and he tugged the lab coat on, which was far too big for his short stature. Fushimi couldn't help but snicker at the last fact. “What?” Yata asked.

“I didn't realize how short you were until now,” he smirked.

“Shut up, asshole!” Yata yelled, his face flushed, and the whole class turned to stare at them.

“…” Fushimi stared at Yata blankly before grabbing the handout in front of them, flipping to the first page. “Right.”

“I'll...grab the chemicals from the front!” Yata called out, trying to break the tension. “Wait here.” He ran to the front of the room, grabbing the small tray of beakers and vials from the front desk, while Fushimi placed his lab coat, goggles and gloves on. Setting their tray down on the table, Yata moved the small beakers in front of the large empty one on the lab table. “I wonder what these all do…” he said, glancing over them.

Fushimi waved the paper in front of Yata's face. “This will tell us. Don't touch anything,” he snapped.

Frowning, Yata folded his arms and plopped down onto the stool. “Fine then,” he grumbled.

Sighing, Fushimi rolled his eyes, and with the amount of times he had done that today, he was sure his eyes were going to get stuck in the back of his head. “I'll read them off to you and you can pour them in, alright?” It was so much better when he was partners with Akiyama. He let Fushimi do all the work.

“Perfect. Read 'em off!” Yata smirked, giving Fushimi a thumbs up. Turning the page, Fushimi skimmed the directions, before folding his arms to sit down, letting Yata follow his instructions. Ultimately, this was better anyway, since he had to keep the ice on his face.

“Alright, take the dark brown liquid and pour it up to the two,” he explained, leaning forward to show Yata. He wasn't about to trust the red-head, and he didn't want to end up with toxic chemicals on himself.

“This one?” Yata asked, holding the flask up. Fushimi nodded. They continued along through the first page of instructions, everything going surprisingly smoothly. Fushimi was shocked Yata could handle himself well enough to not screw up.

“Next, is the blue liquid,” Fushimi explained, his blue eyes focused on the sheet in front of him.

“Blue?”

“Yes. Pour it to the six,” he explained, and glanced up just in time to watch Yata begin to pour the purple liquid into the flask.

“No! You dumbass!” Fushimi yelled, causing Yata to jerk his hand back, the purple liquid sloshing back onto Yata's jacket. “Shit! Be careful!” Fushimi snapped, not noticing the mixture bubbling up as the entire concoction rumbled, and spilled over the side, landing directly on Fushimi's pants.

“Shit!” Yata yelled, slamming the bottle down as more purple chemicals dumped out and landed on his sleeve. “Ah!” he called out. “W-Weismann-sensei!”

“Wha-AH?!” Weismann's face paled as he saw the purple liquid slowly traveling down Yata's lab coat. “Yata-san! Fushimi-san! Under the emergency shower now!” The silver-haired teacher ushered both of them under the shower in the back of the room, the class murmuring quietly among themselves.

The water sputtered and splashed on, hitting both Fushimi and Yata on the head, and, just Fushimi’s luck, it was freezing cold. Yata immediately yelped, shocked by the temperature of the water. Fushimi stood, arms folded, shivering as the water dampened his hair and skin. Yata was shivering too, using his gloved hand to wipe off the purple solution which had stained the lab coat. His red hair stuck to his forehead, and though he looked panicked, Fushimi couldn’t help but think the idiot looked kind of…cute all wet like that.

Thankfully, Weismann’s panicked voice cut through the strange thoughts creeping into Fushimi’s mind. “It didn't get on your skin, correct?” Weismann asked frantically, looking concerned. Fushimi wasn't sure why they let high school kids play with dangerous chemicals like this in the first place.

"No," Fushimi said, sticking out his leg awkwardly to get the solution off of his pants.

"You'll want to wash those pants separately one time, just to be safe," Weismann instructed, and Fushimi rolled his eyes, wondering if it would've been better had he simply stayed home today. First period wasn't even finished and already he was wishing to head back to his room, hide under his blanket, and never come out again.

~~

"It's pretty lucky we had our gym clothes to change into!" Yata smiled, swinging the plastic bag full of the outfit he had contaminated with toxic chemicals. Fushimi wasn’t sure if he’d call it lucky, seeing as they had gym everyday, and more often than not needed a change of clothes, but he was far too annoyed to argue with the idiot. It didn’t help that the two of them had made awkward eye contact while changing, causing them both to blush and turn away as fast as they could. Yata was obnoxious, but...cute.

“Sure,” he scoffed, somehow after everything that had happened, Yata remained positive and smiling. Fushimi wasn’t sure why he had thought Yata’s smile looked nice—maybe because it was almost endearing? Almost. Especially since Yata had only been the frisbee thrower, rather than receiver, in the debacle which had occurred that morning. When Yata smiled, Fushimi doubted it felt like he was going to cause permanent damage to his face.

“Look on the bright side, Weismann-sensei said it could’ve been way worse if we had gotten it on our skin,” Yata chuckled.

Fushimi raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I guess not having a chemical burn is a bright side,” he mumbled.

“Yeah! Totally!” Yata beamed. Fushimi wondered how long Yata was going to follow him around today. He’d barely ever spoken to the guy before, and now he had practically spent the entire morning with him. Fushimi had just about reached his limit—Yata was like a ray of sunshine, and Fushimi was slowly getting a nasty burn.

The next class was math, and thankfully, they were on time—Munakata-sensei wasn’t very forgiving of late students. However, Fushimi had been the teacher’s pet since the first week when he achieved perfect scores on his homework and their first pop quiz, so he assumed if he was late, Munakata probably would forgive him. Probably.

“Ah! Fushimi-kun! Did you have an accident?” Munakata asked, leaning in close towards Fushimi’s lip the second he walked into the room.

“Yes sir,” he said, leaning backwards. “But I’m fine.” Munakata was one of those teachers who had no concept of personal space, always checking on his students as close as he possibly could. Though as far as Fushimi could tell, it was simply because he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings since he was so thrilled to talk about numbers. Nerd.

Fushimi took his seat and pulled out his notebook, watching as Munakata stood, poised at the front of the room. He raised the mostly melted ice bag to his throbbing lip, wondering if he could get more medicine from Awashima soon. Had it even been long enough?

Glancing to the side, he’d never noticed Yata sat directly next to him. Probably because he focused in math class—it was an easy class, but at least it was decently interesting even if Munakata’s critical thinking problems were often wordy and convoluted.

“Today,” Munakata began, pressing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “we will be discussing the mathematical concept of i, imaginary numbers.”

“Hah?!” Yata called out. “I is a letter, not a number, dumbass teacher,” he growled under his breath. If Fushimi had to fancy a guess, he could only assume math wasn’t exactly Yata’s strongest subject.

Munakata’s lips curled up into a devilish smile. “Oya? Are you sure about that Yata-san?” he teased. “Take out your calculator and calculate the square root of negative one,” he said, standings still at the front of the room, keeping his creepy smile plastered on his face.


“It, uh…gave me an error?” Yata replied, staring at the screen.

“Correct! That’s because the answer is…imaginary,” he said dramatically. “Heh. All of you are so quick to assume math is so difficult and boring, but the truth is…math is fun!” he grinned, posing proudly.

Yata groaned, rubbing his hands in his hair. “I can barely handle real numbers, why do we gotta add fake ones too?!” He spoke softly, mostly under his breath, and Fushimi rolled his eyes. As much fun as it was to watch Yata flounder about, all adorable and nervous, it was also painful.

Leaning over, Fushimi shook his head. “They’re not fake,” he whispered. “Look, you get an error because—“

“Are you…helping me?” Yata asked, his voice hushed, but his eyes widened, a slight blush on his cheeks when Fushimi had leaned in close to him. In fact, the blush was so prominent, Fushimi’s cheeks almost turned red as well.

“Tsk,” Fushimi clicked his tongue. “Just listen.”

“Fushimi-kun!” Munakata called out, and Fushimi slowly turned his gaze to the front of the room. “You’re normally so quiet! Do you have something you want to share with the class?”

“No sir,” Fushimi sighed, slowly moving back to sit up straight in his seat.

“Or perhaps you feel you could teach imaginary numbers better than I could? I wouldn’t be surprised,” he chuckled.

Slinking down in his seat, Fushimi folded his arms and clicked his tongue. “Do your job,” he grumbled. Idiot Munakata loved to put him on the spot whenever he could.

“Right! Continuing on then!” Fushimi turned his gaze back to his notebook, but occasionally glanced over at Yata, the idiot biting his lip in concentration. He certainly…persevered, Fushimi would give him that much. It bothered him how he felt the need to help the idiot, especially since Munakata had…vaguely scolded him in his weird Munakata way. Fushimi really had to keep his mouth shut.

~~

Thankfully, gym had gone by without a problem, but that was because Fushimi was able to sit off to the side and watch, since his lip was still swollen.

Lunch was going okay too, sitting by himself and eating what he had packed on his own helped.

“Do you always eat alone?” A familiar voice called out behind him. Fushimi didn’t need to even look up when Yata sat down across from him to know who it was.

“Yes, and I enjoy it,” he muttered, picking at the rice in front of him.

“Well not today!”

“What part of ‘I enjoy eating alone’ did you not understand? Don’t you have friends to eat with?” Fushimi scoffed, his blue gaze finally meeting Yata’s sparkling hazels.

“Yeah, of course I do! I just thought you…might enjoy the company today. Or I mean you could come sit with us,” he suggested. He looked so excited about the suggestion, it was almost difficult to say no, but Fushimi had no desire to leave his comfortable spot.

“Thanks but no thanks,” he repeated. “Run along,” he said, waving his hand.

“…I’m not a kid,” he frowned. “And I want to sit here, there’s no law that says I can’t.”

“Tsk. Fine, but don’t talk to me,” Fushimi scoffed.

And though Yata didn’t say a word, once again, Fushimi could tell he wanted to. Every time Fushimi flicked his gaze towards him, Yata’s lips were pursed into a smile, his eyes shining excitedly, though he were waiting for a conversation starter to slip from Fushimi’s swollen lips.

“So, uhm, Fushimi,” he said finally, his voice tight, as though Fushimi’s name had been waiting to explode from Yata’s lips.

“Ah?”

“Do you think uh, maybe sometime you could help me with math stuff? Y-Y’know cause you’re so good at it?” he said, his cheeks flushed. Fushimi wrapped up the rest of this lunch, tucking it into his bag. Of course Yata wanted help with school. What else would he have wanted? It wasn’t as though it actually mattered. Fushimi didn’t want to be friends with him, nor had he expected Yata to be interested in him for any other reason either.

“…Sure,” he replied quietly, standing up to head to the next class early, not listening to Yata’s annoyingly excited response. Fushimi didn’t even like Yata, so why did he feel disappointed? Why had he thought Yata would want to hang out with him?

~~

Fushimi absolutely despised his literature class for a plethora of reasons. First and foremost, he hated the subject. It wasn’t clear cut like math and science—and history, while boring, was more straight-forward than Totsuka-sensei’s literature class. For the paper assignments, he had to actually discuss and form some sort of opinion on these books he literally could’ve cared less about. And then there was Totsuka-sensei himself. The guy was a moron. Smiley and energetic about books, sometimes he sang their lessons to them, like they were a kindergarten class because he was so enthusiastic. That, and he was also the head of the after-school choir, so he felt an incessant need to sing all the damn time, even when he simply walked through the hall. Fushimi would’ve dumped a whole bottle of chemicals on himself if it meant he could skip his literature class.

“Today, we’ll be starting with a poetry reading!” After everything that had happened so far today, Fushimi knew Totsuka reading poetry would be the icing on the cake. “Poetry can bring meaning to people’s lives and enrich the soul!” Totsuka sighed happily. A piece of Fushimi’s soul was about to die and silently float out the window, of this he was convinced. “For homework, I’d like you all to find a poem that means something to you, and bring it in to share with the class,” he smiled. “It’ll be a great for you to learn about your peers and to share a part of yourself.”

Silently Fushimi wondered if he could fake being sick tomorrow. Maybe his lip would get infected and he’d have to stay home since he’d be running such a high fever.

Ever since leaving Yata at lunch a mere twenty minutes ago, Fushimi’s mood had darkened even more, if that were even possible. His upper lip was pulsing against his teeth, it hurt so damn much. Of course, he supposed this was what happened when a giant plastic disc slammed into your face at full speed. Yet, something about Yata asking for his help with math hurt more. He probably should’ve been flattered. Fushimi was the smartest one in the class, and everyone knew it, but still it disappointed him, and he really hated that. There was no reason to care about the cute, eager idiot’s opinion.

The longer he sat, the more Totsuka’s voice disappeared in his head, becoming the mumbled sound of words strung together Fushimi didn’t care about. What he did care about however, was Yata tapping his pencil against his desk in, what seemed to be, rhythm with Totsuka’s weird beat poetry. If Fushimi hadn’t hated this class, and day, already, Yata was only making it worse. Really, Fushimi shouldn’t have expected anything less at that point.

Growling, he clenched his fists against his desk, and whipped his head around to glare at Yata. “Can you not tap your pencil against the desk?” he huffed.

Yata frowned and put the pencil down. “You don’t have to be such a dick about it,” he hissed.

“Ah! Fushimi-san! Yata-san! Did you have something you wanted to discuss about the poem?” Totsuka asked. He was leaning casually against his desk, smiling happily.

“No,” Fushimi said flatly.

“Actually, I thought it had a nice beat, Totsuka-sensei,” Yata replied, clearing his throat awkwardly as he did. “I was expressing…myself, by tapping my pencil along with your reading, but Fushimi-san didn’t like that.”

“Fushimi-san! I know perhaps you wouldn’t appreciate the art of pencil tapping rhythm, however I do believe it is important that we all express ourselves in whatever way we see fit. If Yata-san feels overcome with the need to tap his pencil along with a poem, then we must allow him to express his unique creativity!” Totsuka explained, practically dancing as he did. Fushimi was certain the ‘art of pencil tapping’ was a thing Totsuka had made up on the spot.

Fushimi flared his nostrils and narrowed his eyes at the smirking red-head in front of him. Turning back around, Fushimi’s gaze fell on the clock, and he counted down the seconds until the bell rang.

~~


“William Penn once said, ‘In all debates, let truth be thy aim, not victory, or an unjust interest’, and I think it’s important we all try and remember this as we embark on this journey about justice together!” Yatogami-sensei pointed to the board, looking disturbingly proud of the quote he had taken the time to write up there. Fushimi was convinced Kuroh Yatogami had only become a history teacher to quote all his favorite historical figures.


History was the last class of the day, and Fushimi felt his heart throb with excitement and his lip throb with the most pain he had felt all day. Soon, he could crawl into his bed and forget this day had ever happened.

“This is meant to be a learning experience, so let’s try and keep the mock debate as friendly as possible, alright?” Yatogami instructed. “I’ll be splitting you up into teams. Team A will be for the concept of democracy, or electing a person to power, and Team B will be for keeping the monarchy in place, or letting the king keep his power.”

Fushimi wasn’t really one for debating, but today he felt he could’ve argued with the world, and he was extra pleased to see Yata end up on the opposite team. He was so damn frustrated by how much the boy had distracted and disturbed his normal routine.

“Alright, Team B!” Yata cheered, and some of the other students looked far less excited than he did, not surprising though. Who got excited for a fake class debate anyway?

Fushimi thought it would be easy enough to win. Yatogami hadn’t declared a pre-determined winner, but it was hard to imagine that Team B would win when the modern standard of government leaned towards a democracy. Team B would have to make an extremely compelling argument if they wanted to win.


Team A’s appointed leader, Akiyama, began their opening statement, describing all the ways democracy was useful. He spoke about checks and balances, and hearing the voice of the people, overall a very well thought out argument, though Fushimi was happy he didn’t have to speak.

However, he wasn’t surprised in the least when Yata stood up as Team B’s leader. He began to yap on about being united under one leader, and how it was more organized and easy for people to follow someone they’d trusted for generations. It was a stupid argument, and Fushimi wasn’t surprised they had picked Yata to speak for them. He was loud, so he made stupidity sound inspiring.

Fushimi rolled his eyes. “Did you come up with all that by yourself?” he grumbled, tapping his foot on the ground. Normally he never would’ve said anything, but by now he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. The words had slipped out, accidentally.

“What the hell did you say?” Yata snapped, leaning over his desk.

“I said, did you come up with that by yourself? It seems like an argument someone as dumb as you would come up with.”

“Boys,” Yatogami spoke up. “It’s only the opening statements-”

“What the hell, asshole?!” Yata yelled, ignoring their teacher. “You didn’t even say a word for your team and you just jump in criticizing me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, it was just so stupid it slipped out.”

“Maybe I should give you a black eye to go along with your fat lip!” Yata snapped, clenching his fist.

“Boys! This is a mock debate and you’re both completely off topic.”

“Go ahead,” Fushimi snapped back, ignoring the pleas of their teacher. This was the perfect opportunity to get back at Yata, at least a little. “It’s not like you could really do anything to make this day any worse.”


“BOYS!” Yatogami slammed his hands on his desk. “That’s enough. Both of you, go stand in the hall and keep quiet! This is meant to be a learning experience, not a time for you to iron out personal problems. If you must debate personal things, do so out there, quietly. I’ll not have you interrupting my class any longer.”

Turning bright red, Yata grabbed his bag and huffed out of the room. Fushimi silently stood up and did the same, though he was happy he didn’t have to listen to a stupid debate any longer.

~~


The two of them stood in the hall in awkward silence. Of course they had gotten kicked out. And now, Fushimi would have to stand there, in pain, until this terrible day finally, finally came to an end.

He noticed Yata staring at him, his hazel eyes glancing to the side quickly, only to look away as soon as he glanced towards him. With a sigh, Yata finally spoke, “Fushimi-”

“No.”

“But-”

“Just. Stop,” Fushimi growled, his hands trembling at his side. “You have done enough today. Everything that happened, everything that has gone wrong, is all your fault!” Fushimi snapped, though his breath hitched when he saw Yata recoil like a hurt puppy.

Then, Yata frowned, looking angry, “I said I was sorry-”

“Whatever. I just want this day to be over, so I can go home and ice my stupid lip some more. If I just had kept walking instead of watching your stupid ass play frisbee, this never would’ve happened! This whole day never would’ve happened!”

Yata stared at him, blinking as his face slowly turned bright red. “Wait…w-what?! You were watching me?!” he yelled, pointing his finger at Fushimi.

“Yes. I was watching you. I was watching you because you always look like such a damn idiot in class but for a small, miniscule second you looked so engaged, and it was interesting to me!” he snarled. “And then you continued to be an idiot in science and math, but I thought for a brief moment that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t all that bad, but really you just wanted me to tutor you in math…and whatever other subject you’re probably failing!” Swallowing, he felt his chest heave as he took a large breath in. Had he really said that out loud? Looking at Yata’s face, he could only assume he had—Yata’s cheeks were so red they almost matched his hair. “You know what just…forget it, I’m going home,” Fushimi snapped, grabbing his bag to walk down the hall. So what if he got in trouble for leaving a little early, having to do detention or something would be far less difficult than having to deal with Yata for any longer, especially after his awkward confession of sorts. Fushimi’s face was the reddest it had ever been, and he certainly didn’t want Yata to see.

“Wait…! Fushimi!” he heard Yata call out from behind him, but Fushimi didn’t wait as he stormed down the hall.

~~

“Fushimi-san!” Fushimi recognized that voice. Had Yata really followed him all the way out of the school? “Fushimi-san!!” Yata called louder, and Fushimi decided it was useless to pretend to ignore him, since the tapping of Yata’s footsteps on the gravel kept growing louder and louder.

“What? Haven’t you tortured me enough for one day?” he muttered, watching Yata approach him.


Holding out his hand, Yata handed Fushimi a new packet of painkillers and ice. “Here,” he said quietly.

“You know I’m about to walk home, yeah?” Fushimi mused, taking the items from Yata’s hand anyway.

“Yeah, I just…I thought it would make the walk home a little…easier,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushing with the same red color as before. Fushimi wanted to despise Yata after everything he had done. Yet, when he said things like that, all endearing and genuine, Fushimi found he only hated the way his heart fluttered lightly in his chest.

“…Thanks,” Fushimi sighed, placing the ice pack against his sore lip. It really did help to put ice on it.

“Yeah. It’s the least I could do. I wanna make it up to you,” Yata said, rubbing his arm.

“Just forget it, I’d much prefer to just forget it,” Fushimi sighed, lowering the small bag so he could toss the two pills into his mouth, swallowing them down. He didn’t want to make any sort of deal with Yata; a deal was probably something the shorter would stupidly break.

“And you know,” Yata began. “I mean…yeah I was asking for your help with math but we could also just…you know…” he stammered, looking awkward. “Hang out,” he shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets.  

“What makes you think I want to hang out with you?” Fushimi smirked, folding his arms as he stared at how cute the other boy looked, being so awkward like that. It was…unexpected—how hard Yata seems to be trying. Fushimi was unclear as to why Yata cared so much, and why it was actually winning him over. All day he had been driving him completely up a wall, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about the moments when Yata smiled, or blushed, or seemed…genuinely interested in what Fushimi had to say; and it was that which made him even more angry.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I sort of destroyed your day and what not, but I’m a cool person! I’m fun to hang out with! I’m sure you’d have a great time!” he declared proudly.

Snorting, Fushimi leaned down and brushed his lips against Yata’s. It was an impulsive move and of course, he immediately regretted it, seeing as his lip was still incredibly swollen. However, even as he winced pulling back, Yata’s reaction was more than worth it. Actually, kissing him just about made the whole day better.

“Is that so Mi-sa-ki?” he mused, humming out his name with a gentle singsong. He placed the bag back on his lip.

Yata was frozen, his face heating up as he stared at Fushimi. “W-What the hell was that!! And don’t call me by my first name!” he snapped, gesturing wildly to the boy in front of him.

“You said you wanted to make it up to me,” he teased, turning around to continue walking towards his house.

“W-Well yeah! But you didn’t have to be an ass about it!” Yata growled, running to catch up with him. “You can’t just kiss someone out of the blue like that!”

“And yet, I just did,” Fushimi smirked, still walking as he let Yata continue to flail about next to him. “I suppose we could…hang out…once…or twice,” he sighed, trying not to blush when he saw how happy Yata’s face looked once Fushimi had caved. “But no more frisbee.”

“Uh…Right…” Yata chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “No more frisbee.”