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Silence stretches between them for too long, broken by the sound of the autumnal sprinkling around them, and soft shuddering from the dark-haired teenager hunched over on the park bench. Yoshino looks up from his hands, bleary-eyed and reserved, gnawing at his bottom lip before letting out a shaky exhale, shoulders slumping and making him look smaller. “I’m- I’m sorry,” he wipes his nose on his shirt sleeve, and something in Yuuji’s chest distantly aches at the dried blood clinging to his upper lip, his fists clenching at the sight. “I- I ruined your date. I didn’t mean to…”
“No!” Yuuji’s mouth falls upon, falling into stunned silence when Yoshino flinches away. “No, seriously, you didn’t ruin anything at all. If anyone ruined anything-” Yuuji shifted uncomfortably at the prickles of an angry flush clinging to his cheeks, a velvety rasp in the back of his head quietly taunting him among the flare of his own righteous anger. He sits down on the bench next to Yoshino with a soft huff, “it was them that ruined things, not you.” He lifts his head to meet Yoshino’s gaze, his own brown irises meeting dark green for a moment before looking away, pushing rain-soaked pink hair from his forehead.
“Seriously… You know, I’d do it again, given the chance.” Yuuji looks down at his bruised knuckles, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as he idly rubbed at a dried smear of blood clinging to his knuckles. Raindrops splattered against his skin, washing away the evidence of the confrontation to begin with. Yuuji doesn’t regret it. Won’t regret it, stubbornly enough, even in the face of consequences. He considered himself an easy-going guy, even to a fault, but--
He tilts his head back to stare up at the black sky, watching his breath hang white in the air when he exhales. “Those guys were- were... assholes.”
Yoshino doesn’t answer and Yuuji can feel his gaze on the side of his face, his eye peeking out from behind his fringe as if shy, suspicious. He shivered, wrapping his arms tight around him as if trying to make himself seem smaller, as if to cower out of his gaze. Yoshino finally nods, the corners of his lips quirking upwards - barely noticeable, but Yuuji spots it nonetheless.
“That’s one word for them, yeah.” He said lowly, eyes looking out into the dark night. After a moment, Yuuji shrugs out of his jacket - it was a cold night, damp from the nighttime showers misting around them, the kind of cold that stuck to your skin and made it feel rubbery, fingers numb from where they peek out from under shirt sleeves. The cold clearly seemed to bother Yoshino more than it did Yuuji, who had always ran hot to the dismay of others - and draped it over the other boy’s shoulders, pulling it snug with a light-lipped smile.
After taking a quick moment to shoot Nobara a text, apologizing with an array of emojis for quickly running out - leaving out the aspect of finding Junpei cowering in the alleyway under the sneering figures of his classmates - at least, that’s what Yuuji has ascertained from their cruel familiarity, and let out a quiet sigh of relief when Nobara didn’t seem too upset beyond the spam of angry emotes in response. He could try to make it up to her, later. He pockets his phone after silencing it.
Yuuji’s voice is quieter now, quieter than the excited boom it usually was, but he injects a modicum of cheer into his expression as he addresses Yoshino with a, “Let’s get you home, alright? You’ll get sick in the cold like this, and I don’t think you’re ready for the remedies my grandpa taught me over the years!” It takes a moment, but eventually the dark-haired boy nods, hands clutching the fabric of Yuuji’s jacket as he rises to his feet, head bowed in shame. Yuuji walks beside him, mouth pulled taught in a grimace that didn’t feel entirely natural, especially due to his - admittedly - optimistic demeanor. Yuuji pushes it into a smile before slinging his arm around the other boy’s narrow shoulders as he leads him out of the rain.
They walk together in relative silence, and Yuuji pretends not to notice the shuddering inhales of his breath, the tremble of his shoulders, or the tear trailing down his cheek barely concealed by the dark curtain of Yoshino’s bangs.
Junpei picks at the fading scabs on his arms nervously as his front door shuts with a soft ‘click’ behind them, Itadori eagerly kicks off his sneakers with an exuberant comment about it being warmer inside. Junpei, however, is waiting, waiting for a reaction, and it’s eating away at him - it wasn’t his place to force Itadori to coddle him like this, right? Itadori’s staring at him, his face drifting into Junpei’s peripheral vision, mouth moving - eyebrows suddenly furrowing in confusion before a hand, gentle -- Junpei reassures himself of this -- on his shoulder shakes Junpei from his reverie.
“Oh! Sorry, uh-” Junpei looks down to see bits of blood beading at the edge of his newly-opened scabs, rust-red under his fingernails, and pulls his sleeve down to cover it the best he can. “My mom’s at a friend’s house for the night, so,” he looks up at Yuuji, looks away as he says, “you can stay the night if you-” His voice fails with a warped noise, but swallowing the lump in his throat, Junpei stubbornly continues, muttering, “if you really wanted to, I mean. You shouldn’t have to walk alone this late.” It’s his fault, too. Junpei’s stomach twists and he tears his gaze away, eyes falling upon the soft fabric of a slightly oversized hoodie, Itadori’s hoodie, swathing his frame. A soft gasp pulls from his throat as if ripped from his lungs, and Junpei is suddenly so dizzy that he feels fit to collapse.
Yuuji stares at him for a long moment before he grins widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling merrily, “Oh, really? Thanks!”
Junpei looks up at him and his expression is soft, eyes devoid of anything but cheerful understanding. His gaze slips a touch upwards, to soft-looking pink curls sticking to Itadori’s forehead that he immediately startles, before blurting out with the eloquence of someone who could state the obvious. “You’re wet!” Itadori looks down at his outfit, drenched from the weather, while Junpei pauses to cringe at his own stupid statement, wallowing in the sudden prickle of heat stinging his cheeks before stepping backward. “I’ll, uh- grab some clothes for you? Wait here, okay?”
Even later, the both of them changed into fresh clothes - Itadori wearing his clothes, which, thankfully, fit on his more athletic frame due to the dark-haired teenager's habit of wearing baggy, oversized clothes. Junpei fretted anxiously under a mountain of blankets that Itadori had managed to scavenge with a determined gleam in his eye, managing to find every single blanket they owned while Junpei had been changing in the other room. At the pink-haired boy’s persistence and a joking threat to wrap him up like a burrito, he was swathed in the throw blankets as he pretended to pay attention to an old rerun of a horror movie, shoulder-to-shoulder on his mom’s cramped, sagging sofa. Junpei flinches when Itadori's laugh booms across the room, pointing at something in the movie, turning to look at him with eyes aglow - mimicking the cadence of a line fallen flat, a terrible actress, startling a laugh of his own from Junpei.
When they fell into (hopefully) companionable silence, Junpei turned to look at Itadori from the corner of his gaze, not really sure what to do with himself. This was… Nice, compared to how devastating his night had gone already - a reminder of the confrontation in the scrapes of his palms and the knees of his jeans torn, faint bruises dotting his knuckles. He swallows back the lump swelling in his throat, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he slowly pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. It’s when brown eyes look back at him that he startles and averts his gaze back to the screen just as the final girl, with a loud proclamation of her love, presses her lips to the male lead's in the beginnings of a gratuitous, stilted, makeout scene that seemed to come out of nowhere.
“Oh, yuck.” Itadori grimaces next to him, sticking his tongue out before nudging Junpei’s shoulder with his own, motioning to the screen and talking over the sound of the swell of cheesy violins. “This scene goes on for way too long, seriously, I don’t know what the director was thinking with this one.”
“Probably for the best that we don’t think too much about what they were thinking.” Junpei chuckled, outwardly wincing as the scene continued but knew that if he tore his gaze away from the over-the-top romance on the T.V., he would turn to gaze at the colors of the T.V. washing over Itadori’s face, glittering in his eyes. Junpei was speaking before he could catch himself, “I just don’t see the appeal.” Shot from his mouth before he sat upright, mouth falling open as he hastily tried to explain himself, “I- in horror, I mean! And- well, that, in general.” He tacked on the last bit before looking to Itadori, desperately trying to change the subject from his severe lack of game. “Have you ever…?”
Itadori reached up to idly scratch at the curved line on his cheekbone, “Yeah, I have.” He gives Junpei an unsure smile, the tips of his ears were pinkened, and Junpei wondered if he was still cold. His heart pounded in his chest, in the back of his throat when he looked down at his hands twitching on his lap, because of course- of course, someone like Itadori has had his first kiss, most teenagers by Junpei’s age did, but…
“With… With a girl?” Looking up at Itadori, looking soft in the low glow of the T.V., washed out in shades like phosphenes when he rubs his eyes. Junpei immediately regretted asking, biting down on his lip, fearing the answer despite the warring argument with himself in his own mind. Itadori was obviously straight - he had been at the movies with a ginger-haired girl with an intimidating grimace, a date, and even if he wasn’t, why would Junpei be as stupid to ever think he had a chance in the first place.
Itadori threw a companionable arm over Junpei’s shoulders and didn't pull away even when the dark-haired boy flinched out of reflex. “Yeah!”
“Oh.” They were pressed close on the couch and Itadori was warm, even through the layers of fabric swathing Junpei’s shoulders - radiating through his clothes in a form of comfort that made his heart pitter-patter hopelessly in his chest. The house was quiet around them other than the smack of raindrops from the window, and Junpei licked his split lip before eventually managing to murmur, “I’ve never- never…”
Itadori sprung away like he had been burned, shifting onto his knees with a creak of sofa springs to face Junpei with a loud, “You’ve never kissed anyone before!?”
“I-” The surprised squeak that tore from Junpei’s mouth at his proclamation certainly was going to be put on the list of the most embarrassing things he's ever done, “No, I mean, I haven’t- haven’t exactly had the chance, since…” He tensed at the idea, averting his gaze because the only people that felt fit to interact with him certainly didn’t want to kiss him - anyone else that he wanted to kiss was far and in-between and decidedly, unfortunately, male. Even more unfortunately, the male sitting directly to his left. It’s all he can think about; the last thing he didn’t want to agonize about, didn’t want the tinge of rejection to ruin one of the last good things that he had. Junpei tries to keep his face serious despite the ache in his chest, pushing the thoughts to the deep recesses of his mind-
“Would you ever want to? With a girl?” A pause, “or a boy?” The man presses the woman against the wall passionately, showing his back to the camera - a knife hidden in the waistband of his jeans. Junpei doesn’t look away and his shoulders rose to press defensively to his ears, going totally still and not saying anything in response. Idly, he remembered reading it was some sort of anxious defense mechanism but it didn’t seem to phase Itadori as he patiently waited for his answer.
“A…” Junpei cleared his throat, “a boy.” It was the first time for him, saying it out loud, admitting it to himself beyond the low, heady flush whenever he locked eyes with a cute guy. He slowly turned to look at Itadori, collecting his thoughts before starting to admit, “I’m-”
The strings in the couch creaked again, Itadori’s eyes were wide, almost giddy as they sparkled in the dim light of his living room. “Do you wanna kiss?” There was no cruel twist to his grin, no malicious gleaming in warm brown eyes like the cherry of a cigarette, a knife hiding in the waste band of his jeans, waiting to strike. He blinks in disbelief, and Itadori continues, “Me, I mean. Kiss me. Uh, do you want to?”
Is he blushing? Junpei certainly was, Itadori’s words tugging at his heart, the creeping blush splotchy on the other boy’s neck making Junpei twitch with the sudden urge to touch it. They were facing each other, and Itadori’s hand dropped from his shoulder to brush his fingers against his, softly intertwining. “What about-” He looked to the side, sighing softly, “you were at the theater with a girl, right? Ginger-hair? Tall?” Junpei shifted uncomfortably, finally voicing the thought that had been plaguing him, “Um, I… I thought it was a date.”
“A date? With-” Itadori’s eyebrows furrowed together before realization dawned on him. “Oooh, with Nobara? No, no! We’re just friends, promise. I’m not interested in her and she’s seriously, seriously not interested in me. Trust me on that one.” They were alone, and Junpei’s heart was pounding in his chest with a sudden overwhelming thought of ‘this can’t be happening for real, I’m dreaming, wake up, wake up-’ Expecting any moment to sit up with sweat clinging to his hairline in his room.
“I just... don’t know how.” Junpei’s gaze dropped to Itadori’s lips before looking back up from under his eyelashes, voice soft and hesitant. “I’ve never kissed a boy before.” Itadori nodded with an enthusiastic hum, squeezing his hands firmly.
“I’ll show you! Can I…?” Itadori lifted a hand, and against Junpei’s better instincts he nodded. Itadori’s free hand curved around the nape of Junpei’s neck, the soft scrape of faintly calloused palms giving the dark-haired boy goosebumps, skin itching with anticipation. “You can touch me, too. Look, here!” His other hand gently lifted Junpei’s by the wrist, placing it on his shoulder. Junpei nodded, squeezing gently, his eyes wide and searching, stomach twisting furiously with each bit of evidence that ‘this is real, this is real, this is-’
There was no dig of a blade into Junpei’s ribs, straight into his heart, when their lips met just as a scream poured from the T.V. speakers. Itadori gently brushed his fringe from his face before tugging him forward, thumb rubbing in calming, self-assured circles on the back of his neck. Junpei was kissing Itadori Yuuji, was gripping the fabric of his shirt - Itadori was wearing his shirt - and it was actually happening for real. He made a noise like a shuddering gasp against Itadori’s lips and in a flash it was over, the pink-haired boy breaking away with a-
“You okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” His eyes were filled with concern, as was his voice, and after a moment of dazed blinking, Junpei shook his head, lifting a hand to touch his lips, now gently tingling in a way that was somewhat pleasant. Itadori flushed, a little silly grin spreading across his face. There was pink high on his cheekbones, a pretty flush, and Junpei could barely tear his eyes away. “So, uh, how was it?”
“Can we do that again?” Junpei blurted in lieu of a proper response, and for the first time in the night he didn’t try to hastily correct himself, staring at the other boy expectantly.
“Yes, please.” Itadori breathed, and his eyes dropped shut as he leaned towards Junpei. They kissed a bit more under the quiet rain, through the credit sequence, both of them pink in the cheeks. Neither of them thought about the connotations, of going any further, but enjoyed the soft brush of tactile touch nonetheless. A tiny offering of love. Itadori kissed him softly as if trying to communicate everything in a simple gesture, but Junpei was smiling and relaxed when he slumped against Itadori’s shoulder, tactile like a pleased cat.
He sighed, sounding beyond content. “That was nice,” Junpei murmured before yawning widely, shifting to look up at Itadori. He was nice. Way too nice for someone like Junpei, anyway. He was too tired to worry about it, with Itadori’s warmth like a furnace and the soft beat of his heart mixed with the sound of the rain lulling him to sleep, eyes drooping shut.
“It was.” He hears Itadori reply, his voice soft, his fingers lacing through Junpei’s hair idly. “Goodnight, Yoshino.”