Omggg I love ur story so much, can you write something for yuma in the same universe as Jo? Maybe something like rodrick and Regina type of dynamics
hellooo thank you so much for loving my stories and requesting i hope you will enjoy this ☺️🎀
YUMA - LO$ER
pairing: yuma x y/n
contents: mean girls x a diary of a whimpy kid parallel, fake dating, taki is mentioned as yuma's brother, lowkey fast, downbad yuma (if there's anything else pls lmkkk)
to the anon who requested this you're such a genius and ilysm😭🎀
It was a random school day when her car broke down in the middle of the road on her way to school.
“URGH!” she exclaimed, hitting the car tire with her heel. “Stupid car- MOM, THIS SHITTY CAR BROKE DOWN AGAIN!-”
That’s when she heard a loud honk behind her.
She turned around, to see a guy with black hair, crooked grin and… an ugly, rusty white van.
“Want a ride?” he asked.
Y/n's eyes lit up. “You’ll give me a ride to North Shore High?” She gave him her best puppy-eye stare, fully convinced it would work. Pretty privilege.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I go there too, so-"
She didn't wait a second, yanking the passenger door open.
“Move your junk,” she snapped, eyeing a pile of drumsticks, empty energy drink cans, and a leather jacket that smelled like smoke.
“Hey, that’s important stuff,” he protested, lazily shoving.
The ride began.
The van smelled like sweat - literally disgusting. Y/n had to resist the urge to puke, pressing her lips together as she rolled the window down just enough to breathe. She was already texting her friends about it, thumbs flying across her screen.
“So, I’m Yuma-” he started.
“Shut up,” she cut him off without even looking up.
He blinked, then let out a short laugh.
“Damn,” he said, smirking. “Feisty.”
Yuma glanced at her from the corner of his eye.
She was sitting in his passenger seat like she owned it - legs crossed, chin lifted, face twisted in disgust. And somehow she looked hot.
She caught him staring and shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Eyes on the road, van boy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smirking.
She scoffed, muttering something about losers, then went back to texting. But she didn’t notice the way his smile lingered a second too long.
When the school finally came into view, her shoulders relaxed instantly.
The van screeched to a stop. She jumped out without a thank you, heels clicking against the pavement. Yuma watched as she walked away.
He exhaled slowly.
“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, a grin spreading across his face.
“I’m screwed.”
Her friends had already seen everything.
The moment Y/n reached them, one of them grabbed her arm. “Um - what was that?”
She didn’t even slow down. “Let’s not waste our time,” she said dismissively. “So did Nicho come today?”
Their faces lit up instantly.
“Oh my god, YES,” one of them squealed.
“Come on, let’s go - now,” another said, already dragging her toward the building.
Y/n let herself be pulled along, not once looking back at the rusty white van still parked at the curb.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
As they all walked inside together toward Nicho’s locker, laughter still lingering, they stopped short.
There he was - making out with another girl.
“Nicho, what the hell??” Y/n exclaimed, dramatic as ever.
“Oh- hi, baby,” he said casually, wiping the lipstick marks off his lips with his thumb. “I was waiting for you.”
She slapped him across the cheek. “Cheater.”
“Babe, I didn’t cheat on you,” he said quickly. “I was thinking of you when I was kissing her.”
The hallway had gone quiet. Whispers rippled through the crowd.
She let out a slow laugh.
“Oh,” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “So you were thinking of me?”
Nicho nodded eagerly. “Yeah, babe, of course.”
She smiled.
Then she turned to the girl beside him, looking her up and down once. “You can keep him.”
The girl blinked. “What?”
Y/n stepped back, folding her arms. “What? You were letting him use you cause apparently he was “thinking” of me when he was kissing you. Congratulations! You’re dating a guy who cheats in front of the whole school and lies about it in public. Huge win.”
She gestured between him and the lipstick still smeared on his mouth. “You embarrassed yourself and I’m just letting everyone know.”
She leaned in just enough for him to hear. “We’re done.”
Then, louder, clearer...
“And for the record? You were never worth my time.”
She turned on her heel and walked away, her friends rushing to her side, buzzing with adrenaline.
Behind her, Nicho stood frozen.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
Y/n looked impossibly calm for someone who had just been cheated on. It was almost unsettling. Her friends noticed it too.
By interval, they had completely surrounded her, voices overlapping, already comforting her.
“Y/n, babe, it’s okay to cry,” one of them said, pulling her into a hug.
“You didn’t deserve that,” another added dramatically.
Y/n rolled her eyes. “Girls, what is this- urgh.”
She slipped out of their arms and grabbed her bag. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”
She walked out of the classroom without another word. Her friends watched her go, exchanging worried looks.
“Oh my baby is going to cry,” one of them whispered, sobbing.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
Y/n headed to the cafeteria, scanning the room until she spotted a certain emo sitting with his friends. She hesitated for a second, clicked her tongue, then walked straight over.
“Van boy,” she called.
He looked up, surprised. “Oh- Y/n?"
“I wanna talk to you. Come here,” she said, already turning away, basically ordering him.
A slow smile spread across his face.
“Yes Ma'am," he said, standing up and following her.
They slipped into a quiet corner of the cafeteria.
“Damn,” Yuma said, leaning back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I didn’t know you missed me this much, huh?”
“Shut up, oh my god,” Y/n shot back, rolling her eyes so hard that she could see her brain.
Yuma grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “Sooo what did you wanna talk about?”
Y/n leaned forward, fixing him with a sharp look. “Fake date me.”
Yuma’s smirk widened. “Sure"
“That easy?” Y/n asked, surprised.
Yuma just shrugged.
Y/n fake-smiled at him. “Great. Give me your number, then.”
He leaned back, smirking even wider, and typed it into her phone without a word.
“Aight then, baby girl,” he said, stretching and grinning. “I’m hungry. I don’t diet like you.”
He winked.
Y/n stared at him for a second, internally groaning. Why did I think this was a good idea?
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
Her friends had been pacing in the classroom anxiously for her to come back.
When Y/n walked in, heads turned in surprise.
“Wait, You’re not crying?” one of them asked, eyes wide.
Y/n smirked, tossing her bag onto a chair like it weighed nothing. “I’m fine. Actually- I’m gonna fake-date that guy from the van earlier.” She let the words hang in the air for a second. “Gonna make Nicho jealous.”
"WHAT?"
"ARE YOU SERIOUS!!!"
"baby are you dumb?"
Y/n raised an eyebrow at the collective hysteria, unimpressed.
Then, almost in unison, the question that mattered most came: “Wait… what’s his name?”
Y/n tilted her head slowly, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. “Oh… I don’t know.”
“Y/N! How can you not know his name?!”
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
After school ended, Nicho was already waiting for her near her locker. Y/n groaned the moment she saw him, still she walked over, opened her locker, and calmly started slipping her books inside, acting like he wasn’t even there.
“Babe, please,” Nicho said, stepping closer. “You know I wouldn’t cheat on a beautiful girl like you.”
She paused, then slowly shut the locker.
“Nicho,” Y/n said coolly, “you know so damn well you cheated, so don’t humiliate yourself any further and leave.”
Before he could respond, a familiar voice cut in.
“Is he bothering you, babygirl?”
Yuma stepped into view, an annoying smirk plastered on his face, hands tucked into his jacket pockets like he owned the hallway.
Y/n licked her bottom lip in pure annoyance, already hating how perfect his timing was.
She sighed, then leaned into it.
“Yeah, baby,” she said, looping her arm through Yuma’s and pointing at Nicho. “Look at him.” She pouted fakely, laying it on thick.
Nicho froze.
“Baby?” he repeated, staring between them. “What the hell is this?”
Yuma chuckled, pulling Y/n just a little closer. “This,” he said lazily, “is the result of you being a shit-head.”
And Y/n felt the tiniest spark of satisfaction watching Nicho’s face fall.
“Let’s go, baby,” Yuma said, already pulling her closer by the waist.
Y/n let herself be guided away, lifting her hand to wave dismissively at Nicho without even looking back.
“Bye,” she said flatly.
Nicho stood frozen by the lockers, jaw clenched, watching them walk away together.
The second they reached his van, Y/n shoved him away.
“Urgh,” she muttered, aggressively wiping nonexistent dirt off her pink cardigan.
She looked up and caught him staring at her, clearly amused.
She pointed a finger at his chest. “You. Will never call me baby girl again.”
Yuma chuckled, unfazed. “Get in,” he said, already walking around to the driver’s seat.
“Um, no. I got my-" she started, then froze.
Car...
The realization hit her all at once.
Yuma glanced back at her. “Y/n. Get in.”
“I’ll go with Zara,” she said quickly, looking away.
“Y/n" he repeated, his tone firmer this time.
She stiffened, surprised by the command, with a dramatic huff, she yanked the passenger door open and climbed inside, slamming it shut harder than necessary.
Yuma chuckled as he started the engine.
After Y/n told Yuma where her house was, they started heading in that direction. She crossed her arms and stared out the window for a moment before speaking.
“Sooo, What's your name?”
He glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “Wait- you can’t remember?”
“Just say it.”
“Fine. It’s Yuma.”
“Okay,” she said quickly. “So, we’ve been dating for two weeks. You asked me out first because you thought I’m pretty, and I agreed because personality matters too.” She paused, counting on her fingers. “Anddd… what else?”
“Wait,” Yuma said slowly. “What do you mean by personality?”
Y/n turned her head and gave him a long, unimpressed side-eye.
He shook his head, letting out a small laugh. “Why did I even agree to this?”
Y/n laughed through her nose, clearly pleased.
A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of her place. She unbuckled, pushed the door open, and stepped out.
“Thanks, van boy,” she said casually.
“It’s fine, baby girl,” he replied, smirking. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow?”
She grimaced. “Ew, don’t. Just meet me at the lockers.”
Then she shut the door and walked away without looking back.
Yuma watched her go, chuckling to himself, before starting the van and driving off toward his place.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
The second Yuma got home, he parked the van, shut the door, and headed straight upstairs to his room.
The moment the door closed behind him, he lost it.
“WHAT DID JUST HAPPEN?!” he yelled, pacing the room.
He ran a hand through his hair, then both hands, then started pacing faster. “She called me van boy. VAN BOY. And I said yes. I said yes.”
He stopped, stared at his bed, then aggressively flopped onto it, bouncing once before sitting straight back up.
“No, no, no. This is bad. This is so bad,” he muttered, grabbing a pillow and screaming into it.
He rolled off the bed, sitting on the floor now, phone in his hands. He unlocked it, saw her name saved in his contacts, and let out a strangled noise.
“Why did she ask me?! Why did I say yes?!”
He dropped the phone like it burned, stood up, and started pacing again.
“She’s gonna ruin my life,” he said, pointing at the wall like she could hear him. “She’s popular. She’s scary. She looked at me like that-” he paused, replaying it in his head, “-She's beautiful.”
He laughed once. Too loud.
“Oh my god,” he said, covering his face. “I’m fake-dating Y/n.”
He fell back onto the bed again, staring at the ceiling, heart racing.
He groaned loudly, burying his face in his hands.
“I’m so screwed.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Yuma?” his mom’s voice came from the other side. “What happened?”
He froze.
“Uh - nothing,” he said way too fast.
The door creaked open anyway. She peeked in, eyebrow raised. “Well, I definitely heard something from here.”
He sat up straight, forcing a shrug. “Must’ve been Taki.”
“Taki?” she repeated, skeptical.
“Yeah,” Yuma said quickly, nodding like it made perfect sense. “I heard he asked a girl out today and got rejected.”
His mom narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh.”
She looked around his room- pillows on the floor, phone abandoned on the bed, him very clearly not okay.
“Sure,” she said slowly. “Well… dinner’s in an hour.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Cool.”
She closed the door, still unconvinced.
The second it shut, Yuma collapsed backward onto his bed.
He groaned, pulling the pillow over his face.
“This is the worst day of my life.”
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
Y/n stepped inside and kicked her heels off, dropping her bag by the door.
Her mom was standing by the window, arms crossed, very obviously watching the rusty white van disappear down the street.
“So,” her mom said, turning around with a grin, “who was that boy?”
Y/n barely looked up. “My boyfriend.”
Her mom’s eyes widened, then she giggled. “Oh! Yes, understandable. He looks very handsome.” She paused. “But what about Nicho?”
“Oh,” Y/n said casually, heading toward the stairs. “He cheated.”
Her mom gasped. “Ohhh. Good. I didn’t like him anyway.”
"I could tell.”
Once she was in her room, she shut the door softly behind her and leaned against it.
Her mind immediately wandered back to him. The van, the smirk, the way he had leaned against the door when she told him to get in. The way he laughed, teasing her like he already knew he was getting under her skin.
Why do I even think about him? she asked herself, rolling her eyes internally. He’s messy, a total loser and yet why is he so disgusting - no, cute?
Her lips pressed into a thin line as she groaned, flopping onto her bed.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
The next day, Y/n arrived at school in a sleek new car, stepping out like she owned the place.
She met up with her friends at the park as usual, laughing and catching up, then together they walked toward the lockers.
As she closed her locker while listening to Zara’s story, a loud, ragged panting came from behind her.
Y/n spun around and let out a sharp yelp - there was Yuma, standing right there.
“Sorry, baby girl,” he said, grinning, slightly out of breath. “I slept too much.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“Well,” he said, smirking, “you asked me to meet you here.”
“Ohhh,” she said, tilting her head. “Well… I forgot. You can go now.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“Mhm,” she said casually, then added, waving a finger at him, “Oh, and van boy - don’t forget to meet me at the cafeteria during break.”
With that, she walked away, her friends giggling behind her.
Yuma stood there for a second, watching her go, a grin slowly spreading across his face.
She smiled at me he thought to himself, internally giggling.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
At cafeteria break, Yuma walked straight toward her table, plate in hand, without even slowing down. Y/n was sitting with her friends, mid-conversation, when he slid into the empty seat beside her like it was already his spot.
“You’re late,” she said flatly.
He glanced at the clock on his phone. “Two minutes."
Her friends giggled.
Y/n shot them a look, then turned back to him. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
He eyed her plate. “Is that all you’re eating? You’re gonna pass out one day.”
“Mind your business,” she snapped.
“Can’t,” he said easily. “Fake boyfriend duties.”
Yuma leaned back, stretching slightly, his hand resting on the edge of the table - long fingers, veins faintly visible.
Y/n’s gaze drifted there before she could stop herself.
She froze.
Why does his hand look like that?
Heat crept up her neck, and she quickly looked away, cheeks warming.
“Is there any problem?” he asked, catching the way she suddenly went stiff.
“No,” she snapped a little too fast.
Her friends giggled, exchanging knowing looks.
“Oh my god,” Zara whispered. “She’s blushing.”
“I am not,” Y/n said immediately.
Yuma chuckled, clearly pleased. “Relax. I won’t bite.”
She shot him a glare - but her ears were still pink.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
From another table across the cafeteria, Nicho was watching.
He hadn’t meant to. But his eyes kept drifting back to Y/n - how she sat relaxed, surrounded by her friends, how she leaned slightly toward him.
Toward Yuma.
Nicho’s jaw tightened.
Yuma was laughing, saying something stupid, his hands moving as he talked. Y/n rolled her eyes - but she didn’t move away. Not even when his arm brushed hers again.
Yuma leaned in closer now, lowering his voice just enough that only she could hear. Y/n scoffed, then - damn it - she smiled.
Yuma just lifted his gaze and locked eyes with Nicho.
For a brief second, neither of them looked away.
Then Yuma smirked.
Slowly he shifted closer to Y/n and rested his hand over her shoulder, casual like it belonged there. His thumb brushed lightly against her sleeve as he leaned back in his chair.
Y/n didn’t even notice, too busy listening to her friends.
Yuma kept his eyes on Nicho.
He raised a brow. Just once.
Nicho’s jaw tightened.
Yuma finally looked away, completely unbothered, turning his attention back to Y/n like nothing had happened.
The bell rang, sharp and loud, signaling the end of break.
Y/n gathered her things and stood up. “Meet me at the parking lot,” she whispered to Yuma before turning and walking away with her friends.
Yuma watched her go for a second longer than necessary.
That’s when his friends slid into the empty seats around him.
“So that’s her,” one of them said, smirking.
“Didn’t know you were into girls like that,” another added, laughing.
Yuma’s expression hardened instantly.
"Like that?"
"You know... they be into everyone's pants-"
“Don’t,” he said flatly.
They paused, surprised.
“She’s a person too,” he continued, voice low but firm.
"Respect that"
The table went quiet. Without waiting for a response, Yuma stood up, grabbed his bag, and walked away - leaving his friends staring after him.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
Yuma was already waiting in the parking lot, leaning casually against her car. When Y/n showed up, she didn’t say a word. She walked past him, popped the trunk, and tossed her bag inside.
Then she turned back to him.
Without warning, she stepped closer and leaned into his chest, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Yuma stiffened. “Uh-"
“Put your hand on my waist,” she said, looking up at him.
He blinked. “What?”
“Now.”
Still a little stunned, he slid his hand to her waist, fingers resting there carefully.
She tilted her head slightly, pulling her phone out. “Relax,” she muttered. “You’re my boyfriend, remember?”
Before he could respond, she lifted her phone, angled it just below their faces - his jaw, her cheek, his hand on her waist - and click.
She pulled back immediately, already typing.
Yuma watched, heart racing, as she uploaded it to her Instagram story.
She slipped her phone back into her pocket, satisfied.
“That should do it,” she said casually.
Yuma stared at her, still processing. “You just- posted that.”
She glanced at him. “Yeah.”
“To everyone?”
“Mhm.”
He let out a breathless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You’re insane.”
She smirked. “I know.”
Then she grabbed her keys, slid into the driver’s seat, and looked at him through the open window.
“See you tomorrow, van boy.”
As she drove off, Yuma stood there alone in the parking lot, phone buzzing nonstop in his pocket.
And he couldn’t stop smiling.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
The next day, Y/n was… different.
less sharp.
She didn’t snap when Zara bumped into her shoulder. Didn’t scoff when someone whispered her name. Even when Nicho passed by, she only lifted her chin and kept walking, unbothered on the surface.
Yuma noticed.
At break, she leaned against the cafeteria counter, tapping her nails against her phone.
“Come to my place after school,” she said casually.
Yuma blinked. “Why?”
She turned to him slowly, unimpressed. “To hang out, loser. Obviously.” She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite to it this time.
“Oh.” He tried to sound chill. Tried to look like his heart wasn’t doing parkour. “Um. Okay.”
He failed. Badly.
She smirked at the way his ears went red. “What, van boy? Scared?”
“Of you?” he scoffed. “Never.”
That earned him a quiet laugh - surprised like it slipped out before she could stop it. She froze for half a second after then immediately crossed her arms.
“Don’t read into it,” she warned.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, hands up.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
They got to her place just as the sun started dipping, the sky turning soft pink.
Yuma parked the van and stepped out with her, shoving his hands into his pockets like he suddenly didn’t know what to do with them. Before he could say anything, the front door swung open.
Her mom walked out, holding a popsicle mid-bite.
“Oh hi, baby,” she said cheerfully to Y/n- then her eyes slid to Yuma.
Her tone shifted.
“And… oh hello, boy,” she said, dragging the words just enough to make it embarrassing.
Y/n groaned immediately. “Mom.”
Yuma straightened. “Uh- hi. I’m Yuma.”
Her mom smiled wide, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Yuma,” she repeated. “Nice name. You must be the boyfriend.”
“Fake-” Y/n started.
“Boyfriend,” her mom cut in, waving the popsicle like a mic.
Her mom lingered a second longer than necessary, slowly licking the popsicle while still looking at Yuma like she was watching a reality show unfold.
“So,” she said casually, “You gonna tell me about yourself or?”
Yuma’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Yeah,” he said easily. “Well what do you wanna know?”
Y/n’s eye twitched.
“URGH- okay, no,” she snapped, grabbing Yuma’s wrist. “We’re going. Right now.”
“Whoa,” Yuma laughed as she dragged him down the hallway. “Is this kidnapping?”
“Be quiet,” she hissed. “And stop smiling.”
She shoved open her bedroom door and pulled him inside, slamming it shut a little harder than necessary.
He asked, still amused. “You jealous?”
She spun around. “Don’t be disgusting.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, raising a brow. “You totally were.”
She crossed her arms, cheeks warm. “I just don’t like when people stare.”
“People,” he repeated, smirking.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then- quietly- he said. “I was just messing.”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Yeah. Well. You’re fake dating me. Try acting like it.”
Something shifted in his expression.
“…Got it,” he said.
The silence stretched just long enough to get awkward.
Y/n cleared her throat. “Music?”
Yuma blinked. “Yeah. Please.”
She grabbed her phone and hit play without looking at him. “Honey are You Coming- Maneskin”.
He froze. “Wait… you like this?”
She shrugged, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. “Mhmm”
That did it. Something in his chest collapsed in the best way.
“You’re insane,” he muttered, smiling to himself.
She caught it. “What?”
“Nothing.”
A beat passed. Then she tilted her head, eyes narrowing slightly. “Your eyeliner’s smudged.”
He lifted a brow. “And?”
“Sit,” she said, already digging through her drawer. “I’ll fix it.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, watching her move around the room. When she hesitated, looking for a place to sit, he nodded toward the space in front of him.
“You can sit on my lap,” he said casually.
She paused. Rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it weird.”
Their knees brushed. He went still without meaning to, hands resting at his sides like he didn’t trust himself.
She leaned in, eyeliner in hand, focused. Too focused. Her lashes fluttered as she concentrated, her breath warm against his cheek.
He swallowed.
Without thinking, his hands lifted- stopping just short of her waist.
Her eyes flicked to his. The air shifted. Quiet. Heavy.
They were too close now. Close enough that he could count her freckles. Close enough that she could see his breath hitch.
Slowly- almost- he leaned in.
“Y/n-”
The door creaked open.
“Do you want snacks-”
They jerked apart instantly.
Her mom stood there, popsicle in hand, eyebrow raised.
“Oh,” she said brightly. “Am I interrupting?”
Y/n groaned, face burning. “YES.”
Yuma coughed, sitting up straighter. “Hi again.”
Her mom smiled, entirely too pleased. “I’ll just… leave the door open.”
The door stayed open.
Y/n buried her face in her hands.
Yuma stared at the floor, trying- and failing- not to grin.
Fake dating was officially a terrible idea.
And somehow… Neither of them wanted it to stop.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
The room went quiet again.
Y/n finished the last stroke of eyeliner with careful precision, her hand steady even though she could feel it.
His stare. Heavy. Unmoving. Like he was afraid to blink and break whatever this was.
She pulled back slightly. “Don’t move,” she murmured, checking her work.
“I won't,” he said.
Then, softer. Rougher. Like the words surprised even him-
“You’re so pretty.”
Her hand froze.
She let out a quiet scoff, more reflex than confidence, and went to cap the eyeliner. “Don’t say things like that.”
“Why?” he asked softly.
She didn’t answer.
He leaned in slowly, giving her time to stop him. Her breath hitched before she could control it.
His hand lifted, hesitant, then settled lightly at her waist like he was afraid she’d disappear if he held her too tight.
“Y/n…” he murmured.
She looked up.
Their faces were inches apart now. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, close enough that the world outside her room faded completely.
Her lips parted without her permission.
He leaned in just a fraction more-
Buzz...
The phone vibrated in his pocket, loud and sudden.
They both froze.
He cursed under his breath, pulling back slowly, like the moment physically hurt to break. He checked the screen and sighed.
“My mom,” he said quietly.
Y/n stepped back, crossing her arms like armor snapping back into place. “Oh yeah- go.”
He stood, clearly torn, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll… I’ll see you.”
At the door, he paused, glancing back at her like he wanted to say more- but didn’t trust himself to.
“Bye,” he said softly.
The door clicked shut.
Y/n stood there alone, heart pounding, the echo of his voice still hanging in the air.
Pretty.
She hated how much that one word stayed with her long after he was gone.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
Yuma slammed the van door shut and immediately groaned, dropping his head forward until it hit the steering wheel.
“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging his hands down his face. “What was I thinking- oh my god.”
He sat there for a second, heart still racing, replaying the moment over and over. Her eyes. How close she was. How she didn’t pull away.
“What if she thinks I’m weird,” he groaned. “Shit. Shit.”
He cursed at himself again, started the van way too aggressively, and peeled off down the street like distance might fix whatever he’d just ruined.
Meanwhile, Y/n stood by her window, arms crossed, watching the rusty white van disappear around the corner.
Her chest felt tight. Annoyingly so.
She grabbed her phone, unlocked it, and didn’t even think before dialing.
“Tell me you’re free,” Y/n said the second the call connected.
Zara gasped. “Oh my god. Did something happen? Did you cry? Did he do something?”
“No,” Y/n said quickly. “Worse.”
“WORSE?”
“I think something almost happened,” Y/n said flatly.
Silence.
“Almost what happened,” Zara asked slowly.
Y/n leaned her forehead against the glass. “Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.”
“Oh my god,” Zara gasped. “Was it the van guy.”
“...maybe”
Zara screamed. Literally screamed.
“Y/n. YOU HATE MEN. WHAT DO YOU MEAN MAYBE.”
“I don’t hate men,” Y/n snapped. “I hate manchildren.”
“And is he a manchild?” Zara pressed.
Y/n hesitated. Just for a second.
“…No.”
That was all it took.
“Oh my GOD,” Zara said in awe. “You’re in trouble.”
Y/n scoffed, but her voice was quieter now. “Shut up. It was just a moment.”
“A moment that made you call me instead of pretending you don’t feel things?”
Y/n had no comeback for that.
She stared at the empty road where his van had been, heart still beating too fast, and muttered, “I just… don’t want to be wrong again.”
Zara scoffed on the other end of the call.
“Isn’t it supposed to be fake?” she asked.
“It is, but-” Y/n started.
“But you like him,” Zara cut in immediately.
“I do not.”
“Y/n.”
She sighed loudly. “Okay, maybe I don’t hate him.”
“Same thing.”
“This isn’t even the first time I’ve kissed a guy,” Y/n continued, pacing her room. “So why am I freaking out like this?”
“Exactly,” Zara said. “You’ve done worse. Why are you spiraling over van boy?”
“I don’t know, okay?” Y/n snapped. “I was doing his eyeliner, and he said I’m pretty and then my mom walked in and then his mom called and he left and now I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m-”
“Shut up,” Zara interrupted.
Y/n stopped pacing. “Excuse me?”
“You’re overthinking,” Zara said firmly. “He doesn't think anything bad about you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because men are stupid when they like someone,” Zara replied instantly. “And that boy is gone.”
Y/n sank onto her bed, staring at the ceiling.
“I don’t want this to be messy,” she muttered.
Zara softened. “Then don’t play games with it.”
A pause.
“You think he’ll be weird tomorrow?”
Zara laughed. “Oh, he’ll be awkward. But weird? Nah.”
Y/n pressed her phone to her chest, lips tugging into a reluctant smile.
“Ugh,” she groaned. “I hate this.”
“No you don’t,” Zara teased. “You just hate that you care.”
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
Yuma shoved the front door open, already calling out, panic creeping into his voice.
“Mom?”
“In here!” she called, sharp and urgent. “Yuma, thank god you’re home- come help me with this.”
He rushed into the living room and stopped short.
“What happened?” he asked immediately.
“The breaker tripped again,” she said, pointing toward the hallway. “The fuse box is acting up and I smelled something weird. I didn’t want to touch it.”
His chest tightened. “Did anything spark?”
“I don’t think so, but I panicked,” she admitted. “I tried calling you earlier.”
His stomach dropped.
“Oh,” he breathed. That’s why.
He grabbed a flashlight and headed down the hall without another word, checking the switches, crouching in front of the fuse box like he’d done a hundred times before. He flipped the main switch, listened, waited.
Nothing.
After a minute, he straightened. “It’s okay. Just overloaded. I’ll fix it.”
She squinted. “You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing.”
“The pacing. The avoiding eye contact.”
He groaned, tipping his head back. He leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, staring at absolutely nothing.
“There’s this girl,” he said quietly.
His mom looked at him, waiting.
“She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he added, then paused and glanced at her. “After you. Obviously.”
She snorted. “Good save. Go on.”
He smiled faintly, then his expression softened, like he was replaying her in his head.
“Her eyes,” he said slowly. “They remind me of autumn. Like… that exact moment when the air turns cold but the sun’s still warm. Brown, but not boring.”
“And her hair,” he continued, voice dropping. “It’s so pretty it actually pisses me off. Like it just falls right, even when she’s annoyed. She tucks it behind her ear when she’s pretending not to listen.”
He shook his head, smiling to himself.
“And the way she smiles- she never means to. It just happens. Like it slips out when she forgets to guard herself."
“But her laugh? That’s dangerous. She laughs with her whole face. And then immediately regrets it.”
“She tries so hard to look strong,” he said. “But the way she checks on her friends? The way she steps in front of them without thinking?” He exhaled. “She’s soft. She just hides it.”
He laughed quietly. “Even the way she walks- like she owns the hallway. Chin up. Daring anyone to challenge her.”
Another pause.
“She likes rock music,” he added, almost fondly. “Which I didn’t expect. Knows the lyrics too. Pretends she doesn’t.”
He finally looked at his mom.
“I don’t think she realizes how incredible she is.”
His mom smiled gently. “Sounds like you’re in trouble.”
Yuma huffed a laugh. “Yeah,” he admitted. “The worst kind.”
“I wasn’t supposed to feel anything,” He swallowed. “I don’t want to be another guy who disappoints her.”
His mom stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Then don’t be.”
He looked up at her, eyes serious. “I don’t know how to do this right.”
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
The next day, Yuma was leaning casually- well, as casually as he could- next to her locker. Arms crossed, pretending to be completely chill, but his heart was doing something violent.
Y/n turned the corner with Zara, backpack slung over one shoulder. She froze for a second.
“Oh- you’re early,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” he said quickly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Woke up early, so… y’know.” His voice faltered just slightly, betraying his calm facade.
Y/n tilted her head, studying him for a beat. “Uh-huh,” she said flatly, though a small smirk tugged at her lips.
He swallowed, nervously brushing his hair back. “Well… do you wanna… hang out later today?”
She blinked. Zara nudged her from the side.
Y/n rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched into a tiny grin. “Sure,” she said, leaning against the locker.
Yuma’s chest swelled a little. He ran a hand over his neck, trying to act like he wasn’t internally panicking.
“Cool,” he muttered. “Great. Awesome. I mean… yeah.”
“So,” he said finally, trying to sound casual, “See you after?”
Y/n gave him a small nod, tilting her head. “Mhmm.”
He exhaled quietly, feeling like he’d just survived a hurricane.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
After school, Yuma was already parked outside, leaning casually against his van and pretending he wasn’t checking his watch every thirty seconds.
Y/n came with Zara, tossing her car keys to her friend. “Here, drop my car at my place,” she said.
Zara grinned. “Alright, but you owe me later.” She gave Y/n a quick hug and whispered, “I don’t wanna be an aunt yet.”
Y/n rolled her eyes, glaring at her. “Shut up.”
With that, she slid into the passenger seat of Yuma’s van.
“Wow,” she said, looking around. “You cleaned your van?”
Yuma smirked, pretending to be modest. “Girlfriend effect. What can I say?”
Y/n raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer, letting him enjoy it.
He hesitated for a second, then muttered, “So there’s a small problem. My mom asked me to pick up my brother first.”
Y/n shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. Lead the way.”
The van roared to life, and they drove toward Taki’s school.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
When they pulled up, Yuma’s brother was sitting on the steps, sulking. “Finally,” he grumbled, arms crossed. “You’re late.”
He froze mid-sigh when he spotted the passenger seat. “Uh… who’s that?”
Y/n leaned back casually, one leg crossed over the other. “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you, little dude.”
Taki blinked, looking between his brother and Y/n, clearly trying to figure out.
Yuma coughed awkwardly. “She’s… uh… helping me with a thing.”
Y/n rolled her eyes subtly, noticing the little blush creeping up Yuma’s neck. She grinned faintly to herself. “Right,” she said smoothly. “Helping. Of course.”
Taki didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged and muttered, “Okay,” before heading toward the van.
Y/n leaned back in her seat, folding her arms, and caught Yuma’s eye. He was grinning, just a little, but trying so hard not to look like he was completely flustered.
She smirked.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
The van rolled down the street, the playlist blasting some messy rock track that Yuma obviously didn’t care about.
Taki leaned back in his seat, smirking. “So… who are you?” he asked, glancing at Y/n. “And why are you with this emo?”
“Taki-”
But before he finish, Yuma grabbed the empty water bottle sitting on the console and tossed it at Taki. It bounced off his shoulder harmlessly.
“OW!” Taki yelled, pretending to be offended. “Seriously?! I was asking nicely!”
Y/n couldn’t help herself- she leaned forward just enough to grin at Yuma. “Wow, look at you,” she teased.
Yuma groaned, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “Shut up. I wasn’t aiming-”
“Sure you weren’t,” Y/n said smoothly, hiding a smile.
Taki laughed loudly. “Look at him. Emo boy can’t handle it. He’s blushing.”
Yuma threw him a sharp glance. “I’m not-”
“Totally blushing,” Y/n whispered, leaning back, crossing her arms like she was entirely unimpressed.
Taki nudged her subtly. “You know, its fun watching him squirm. I didn’t think my big bro had it in him.”
Yuma growled quietly, teeth gritted. “I do have it in me.”
Y/n’s eyes sparkled as she glanced at him. “Yeah?then why are you so red?” she teased, tapping the tip of her finger against her chin.
Yuma coughed awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I’m not- stop-”
Taki leaned back, shaking his head. “Oh man… this is hilarious. She’s gonna have you wrapped around her finger in no time.”
Y/n leaned slightly closer to him, voice low. “Maybe I already do.”
Before Yuma could answer, Taki piped up from the back seat, grinning like a mischief god.
“Hey, speaking of it..."
Yuma’s hand tightened on the wheel. He shot a sharp glare through the rearview mirror. “Dude. Shut up.”
Taki raised his hands innocently, smirking. “Relax."
Y/n stifled a laugh, hiding it behind her shoulder. She loved how flustered he got whenever Taki teased him.
“One word out of you, and you’re walking home.”Yuma muttered, voice low but firm.
Taki laughed, leaning back in his seat. “Ooooh, look at you, big bad Yuma. Scary.”
Y/n crossed her arms, smirking at the display. “Yeah, he’s very scary,” she said, teasing without even meaning to.
Yuma exhaled sharply, muttering under his breath. “You’re impossible.”
Taki just grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “This is just too easy. Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”
Y/n glanced at Yuma, her lips twitching into a small smile. Why does he get so worked up so easily? she thought. And why do I like it so much?
Yuma stole a glance at her, jaw tight, trying to mask his own fluster. He already knew this was going to be a long ride.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
As they finally pulled into the driveway, Taki didn’t even wait for the engine to turn off. He hopped out, muttered a quick “I’m starving,” and disappeared inside like a blur.
Yuma let out a long sigh, resting his forehead briefly against the steering wheel.
“Sorry about him,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s… a lot.”
Y/n smiled, unbuckling her seatbelt. “It’s okay. I actually enjoyed it.”
They walked inside together, and the moment YN crossed the threshold, her thoughts started spiraling.
What if his mom doesn’t like me? Is she strict? I should’ve brought something- why didn’t I bring anything? God, I’m so stupid.
She was so lost in her head that she almost bumped into Yuma when he stopped.
“Oh-"
“Hello!” a cheerful voice called out.
A woman peeked out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, her smile warm. “You must be Y/n. Come in, come in- I made a snack.”
Y/n froze for half a second before managing, “Oh- hi, ma’am.”
Before she could overthink it further, Yuma’s mom was already guiding her gently toward the kitchen, one hand resting lightly on her back like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The kitchen was warm. Something was simmering on the stove, the counter was cluttered with bowls and ingredients, and sunlight spilled in through the window. It felt lived-in.
Y/n's eyes lingered, taking it all in. It was nothing like her place.
At home, there were strangers, Random men on the couch. Takeout boxes stacked on the table. Food ordered, never cooked. Conversations half-heard through closed doors.
Y/n swallowed, her chest tightening just a little.
She couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that crept in- Not at Yuma.
Just at the idea of this.
Yuma glanced at her from the doorway, catching the way she’d gone quiet, the way her fingers curled slightly at her side.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”
Y/n looked up, smiling, it was gentler. More real.
“Yeah,” she said. “I just… didn’t expect this.”
And for the first time since she arrived, she felt something settle inside her- Something close to warmth.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
After grabbing the snacks his mom made, Y/n and Yuma headed upstairs to his room. The door had barely closed behind them when Yuma cleared his throat.
“Hey, uh- give me a minute. I’ll grab some water,” he said, already backing out.
Down in the kitchen, his mom was plating something while Taki leaned against the counter, scrolling on his phone. The moment Yuma walked in, Taki looked up and smirked.
“Well, well. Here comes the lover boy.”
“Shut up,” Yuma muttered, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge.
His mom stepped closer, lowering her voice just enough to sound serious- but her smile gave her away. “She’s beautiful. Exactly like you said.” Then, pointing a finger at his chest, she added, “Treat her right, or I’m kicking you out.”
Yuma laughed, shaking his head. “Mom, we’re not dating for real.”
“Mhm,” she said, unconvinced. “Sure.”
He escaped upstairs before they could say anything else.
The moment he pushed his bedroom door open, he froze.
“Oh- hi.”
Y/n stood there, slightly awkward, slightly smug, wearing his black T-shirt. It hung loose on her, sleeves a little too long, the hem brushing her thighs. His shirt.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t ask you,” she said quickly, tugging at the fabric. “It just looked nice and I wanted to try it on. It looks nice, right?”
Yuma forgot how to breathe.
For a solid second, his brain short-circuited. The room felt smaller. Warmer. His grip on the water bottles tightened like they were the only thing keeping him upright.
“Yeah,” he managed, voice low, almost hoarse. “It- uh. It looks… really nice.”
“Way better on you,” he added before he could stop himself.
The silence that followed was heavy. Charged.
Y/n smiled, just a little, watching the way he was trying so hard not to stare- and failing.
“wait, I’ll take it off,” Y/n said, already reaching for the hem.
“No- please keep it,” Yuma blurted out a little too fast.
She paused, looked up at him, then smirked.
“Okay,” she said simply, clearly enjoying this way too much.
She tilted her head. “So… what did you wanna do?”
“Oh- uh.” He cleared his throat, turning toward his desk. “I got something.”
He opened a drawer, rummaged for a second, then pulled out a small bottle of black nail polish. He held it up, almost shy.
“I was gonna ask if you could apply it,” he said. “I kinda suck at this.”
Her eyes lit up. “Cool.”
She sat down on his bed, patting the spot in front of her. “Come here.”
He hesitated for half a second before sitting, awkwardly placing his hands in her lap like he didn’t know what to do with them. She gently took one of his hands, inspecting his nails with mock seriousness.
“You know,” she said, “for someone who pretends to be all tough, you’re weirdly trusting.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Only with you.”
She glanced up at him at that, then focused back on his nails, carefully brushing on the polish. He watched her the whole time- the way she bit her lip in concentration, the sleeves of his shirt slipping down her arms.
Her fingers were warm. Steady.
His heart was absolutely not.
“Try not to move,” she warned softly.
“Okay,” he said, smiling despite himself.
As she painted his nails, they just… talked.
About nothing. everything.
Classes they hated, the teachers, classmates. By the time she finished the last nail, they were both smiling for no real reason. She blew gently on his fingers, careful, focused.
She capped the nail polish and set it aside, both of them still sitting way too close for two people who were definitely pretending.
“Okay,” she said. “Don’t move. At all.”
He froze dramatically. “Aye Aye.”
Right on cue, there was a knock.
Before either of them could answer, the door opened and Yuma’s mom peeked in, smiling instantly when she saw Y/n sitting there, still holding her son’s hand.
“Oh, hi sweetheart,” she said warmly. “I was just wondering- are you staying for dinner?”
Y/n stood up a little straighter. “Um, no. I should head home.”
“That’s alright,” his mom said warmly. “Then you’ll come another day. I’ll cook properly next time.”
Y/n smiled, a little flustered. “I’d like that.”
Yuma’s mom nodded, clearly pleased. “Good. Yuma, drop her off, okay?”
“Yeah,” he said quickly. “Of course.”
His mom left, closing the door behind her.
Y/n carefully let go of his hand. “Your mom is… really nice.”
He smiled, soft and proud. “She already likes you.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
Y/n got home, still wearing his black T-shirt. She didn’t bother changing. Her mom wasn’t around, so it wasn’t a problem.
She went straight to her room, shutting the door behind her, and collapsed onto her bed. The soft fabric of his shirt smelled faintly like him, and she buried her face in it for a second, just breathing.
Her mind started replaying the day- every little detail she couldn’t stop thinking about.
His black hair, the way it fell slightly over his forehead.
His brown eyes, darker somehow with the eyeliner, almost hypnotic.
That cute little snuggle tooth he had when he laughed.
His smile- the one that made him look impossible to resist.
His laugh, easy and low, that made her chest tighten a little.
And his voice… raspy sometimes, soft other times, but always him.
She sighed, curling slightly on her side, staring at the ceiling.
A small, self-aware smile crept across her face.
Damn, she thought, heart fluttering.
I like him.
And for the first time in a while, she didn’t feel the need to hide it.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
The next morning, Y/n arrived at school, expecting to see him leaning against the van in the parking lot.
But he wasn’t there.
Loser might still be sleeping, she thought, rolling her eyes with a small smirk.
Shrugging, she made her way to her locker, flipping it open to grab her books- and froze.
Nicho.
He was leaning against the lockers across from hers, arms crossed, that same smug expression plastered across his face.
“Morning, babe,” he drawled, voice dripping with too much confidence.
Y/n shut her locker, already annoyed.
“Nicho,” she said flatly. “What do you want.”
He smiled like nothing had happened.
“Relax. I just wanted to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” she replied, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “We’re done.”
He scoffed. “You’re really gonna act like that? After everything?”
“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Now move.”
He stepped closer instead.
“Don’t,” she warned.
“I knew you’d cool off,” he said softly, reaching for her arm. “You always do.”
“Nicho-”
He didn’t let her finish.
He leaned in and kissed her.
Sudden and claiming.
Her body went rigid. And then she caught sight of him- Yuma.
He was standing a few feet away, eyes wide. Heart pounding.
Y/n felt it too: betrayal. Even though she hadn’t done anything wrong, the way he looked at her… it broke something in her chest.
He had just turned the corner, backpack slung over one shoulder, still half-awake- until his eyes landed on them.
Y/n and Nicho. Lips pressed together.
That was all he saw.
His face went blank. Jaw clenched. Something in him shut down instantly.
He turned around and walked away.
The second Nicho pulled back, Y/n shoved him hard.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” she snapped.
Her hand connected with his cheek, loud and sharp.
“Fucking leave me alone,” she said, voice shaking with fury. “Don’t ever touch me again.”
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
The moment she saw his back disappearing down the hallway, Y/n took off after him.
“Yuma- wait!” she called, weaving through students, her voice cracking. “Yuma!”
He kept walking.
She caught up to him near the science wing and grabbed his wrist, dragging him into the nearest empty classroom and shutting the door behind them.
“Let go,” he said immediately, yanking his hand free.
She froze.
He turned toward the window, jaw tight, shoulders tense. And for just a split second- before he looked away- she saw it.
His eyes were red. Shiny. It felt like a punch to the chest.
“Yuma,” she said softly.
“Don’t,” he cut in, voice low.
She stepped closer. “You didn’t see what happened.”
He let out a humorless laugh. “I saw enough.”
She shook her head immediately.
“No, you didn’t,” she said, stepping closer. “You didn’t see everything.”
He laughed, but it broke halfway through.
“I felt used, Y/n,” he said quietly.
“And the worst part?” He lifted his hands, bending his fingers in the air to make quotation marks. “I’m not even supposed to feel anything because we’re 'fake dating'.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
The black eyeliner was smudged now, streaked unevenly where tears had fallen. It made his eyes look darker, heavier. Hurt.
“I didn’t kiss him,” she said firmly. “He kissed me-”
She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing hard, frustration crawling up her spine because no matter what she said, he wasn’t hearing her.
“-you’re not listening,” she snapped, voice rising.
He started to turn away again.
“Fucking overreact- SIT DOWN. NOW.”
Her voice echoed off the classroom walls.
Yuma flinched so hard. His shoulders jerked, breath hitching like she’d startled him out of a nightmare. He froze, wide-eyed, clearly not expecting her to cut through his spiral like that.
Then, slowly, he dropped into the nearest chair, hands gripping the edge of the desk like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His chest was still rising too fast, hands shaking.
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
He sat there, shoulders hunched, eyes down, like a kid who’d just been yelled at for something he didn’t do.
She stepped closer and stopped right in front of him.
“Did you see me pushing him away?” she asked, voice tight.
He shook his head. Once.
“Did you see me slap him?”
Another shake. Slower this time. His ears burned as it hit him- how little he’d actually seen.
She let out a sharp breath, frustrated.
“You literally saw that and didn’t even confront me. You just walked away.”
Her voice cracked just a little. “Nakakita Yuma… are you serious?”
He looked up instantly.
Wide eyes. Breath caught in his throat.
She’d never said his name like that before. For a split second, everything else faded- the hallway, Nicho, the mess of feelings- and all he could think was:
That was hot.
Which was wildly inappropriate considering he was still half-terrified and absolutely wrecked.
“I-” he started, then stopped, swallowing hard.
She exhales hard, like she’s been holding it in for too long.
“I like you, okay?” she blurts out.
“I don’t know why I like you,” she continues, clearly annoyed at herself now. “You feel so-” she stops, frowns, searching for the word, “- domestic.”
His eyebrows knit together, confused and a little stunned.
“Like comfortable,” she says, voice softer now. “Like I feel safe around you. Like I know you won’t take advantage of me.”
“I like you."
The words hang in the air.
Yuma’s chest feels tight, too full all at once. His throat works as he swallows. He opens his mouth, closes it again. His hands are still shaking a little on his knees.
“You don’t get to say that so casually,” he finally murmurs.
“Yuma,” she says instead, firmer this time.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says, standing up too fast, the chair scraping against the floor. “For not listening. For overreacting.” He rubs the back of his neck, embarrassed, cheeks flushed. “It’s… really embarrassing. I’m sorry.”
She steps forward and wraps her arms around him.
“And I’m sorry for yelling earlier,” she says into his chest.
He freezes for half a second, then his arms come up around her, hesitant at first- then tighter, like he’s afraid she might disappear.
“I like you too,” he says quietly. “I really do.”
She exhales against him, shoulders finally relaxing.
She pulls back just enough to look at him properly.
His eyeliner is ruined- dark tear lines smudged down his cheeks, eyes still a little red. Without thinking, she reaches up, wipes at his face with her thumb, then gives him a light slap on the cheek.
“Stupid emo boy,” she mutters.
His eyes widen for a second. Then- slowly- his lips curl into a smirk.
“Do it again.”
She blinks. “What?”
“The slap,” he says, tilting his head slightly, clearly enjoying this way too much. “But harder.”
Her face heats up instantly. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
He shrugs, unapologetic. “I like when you’re mad at me.”
She scoffs, cheeks pink. “You’re a freak.”
He grins wider. “Yeah. And you still like me.”
She turns away, flustered, but not before he catches the tiny smile she’s trying very hard to hide.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
It had been almost five months since they started dating.
And the whole school was still shocked.
Not because they were together- but because she hadn’t cheated. Hadn’t kissed anyone else. Hadn’t even looked at anyone the way she looked at Yuma.
And Yuma?
Oh, He changed.
He cleaned his van every day because his girl hated mess.
He cleaned his room too- made his bed, put his stuff away, even opened the windows sometimes.
He started taking her on dates. Pizza from that place she liked, eaten in the van with music playing low.
Late-night drives. Sharing earbuds. Laughing over nothing.
Simple. Easy. Real.
And they were… perfect.
୨୧ ◠ ⸝⸝˙˳⑅˙⋆˙⑅˙˳⸜⸜ ◠ ୨୧
They were walking toward her class together, fingers loosely intertwined, when- out of nowhere- Yuma stopped and gently dragged her into an empty hallway.
She blinked. “Emo boy, is there any problem?” she asked, amused.
“Oh- no, no. Nothing at all,” he said way too quickly.
She narrowed her eyes. “Yuma.”
He swallowed, shoulders stiffening. “Okay, okay- just don’t laugh.”
She chuckled softly. “Alright. Go on.”
He took a breath and rushed it out so fast it barely sounded like English.
“Will youbemypromdate-”
She tilted her head. “Baby, you gotta say that again, ’cause I did not understand anything.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, cringing at himself, then said it again- slow, clear, painfully earnest.
“Will you be my prom date?”
Silence.
He looked up.
She was staring at him, face completely neutral.
His chest dropped.
“I-” he started, panic flooding in. “I’m so sorry, I can’t- I shouldn’t have-”
He could hear his own heartbeat, loud and breaking, already bracing for the rejection he hadn’t even earned. And for a split second, he genuinely thought he’d just ruined everything.
She cuts him off gently.
“Yuma…”
He looks up, bracing himself.
“Yes,” she says, smiling- soft, adoring. “I will.”
For a second, his brain just short-circuits.
“Oh- yeah- cool,” he says too fast. “I mean- sure- yeah.”
He fails miserably at hiding the massive grin stretching across his face and ends up covering it with his hands, cheeks burning.
She laughs, warm and fond, and laces her fingers through his, tugging his hand down.
“Why are you being shy now?”
He opens his mouth, doesn’t think, doesn’t filter-
“God, I love you so much.”
They both freeze.
“W-what?” she asks quietly, eyes searching his.
His own eyes widen, like he can’t believe he said it either. He swallows, nerves crashing into sincerity, and repeats it- softer this time.
“I love you, Y/n.”
Her breath catches.
She steps closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Can I… kiss you?”
He nods immediately. Almost desperately.
She rises just enough to close the space between them, one hand sliding up to his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek. The kiss is slow, careful at first, like they’re both making sure the other is really there.
His hands settle at her waist, grounding. Hers curl into his hoodie, pulling him closer.
When they finally pull back, foreheads resting together, She barely gives him a second to breathe.
“I love you too,” she says, voice steady.
His eyes soften instantly, relief and joy crashing into each other all at once. He just steps closer and kisses her again.
This one is different.
It’s slower, deeper. Like he means every second of it. Like he’s grounding himself in the fact that this is real, that she’s real.
His hands hold her firmly at the waist, protective without trapping her. Hers slide up into his hair, fingers curling there like that’s exactly where they belong. The world outside the hallway fades.
Just them.
When they pull back, foreheads touching, he smiles- soft, open, completely undone.
Yeah.
That kiss said everything he couldn’t put into words.
okay now this is kind of boring, really sorry for that BUT anyways thank you sm gor reading 🎀
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