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“Can I talk to you privately?”
Touya’s legs are stretched across the desk in front of him, the straw of his juice box hanging lazily out of the corner of his mouth. His cerulean gaze flickers from Himiko’s knowing yellow eyes over his shoulder, towards the voice almost too small to hear. Standing in the doorframe, there’s an unfamiliar head of black hair clutching something behind his back. He’s gnawing his lower lip between his teeth, his gaze trained on his red sneakers. Although he’s wearing an ill-fitting grey blazer and green trousers, Touya doesn’t recognise him.
“Sure,” Touya exhales, withdrawing one leg, and then the other. He stands on his feet, shoving his hands nonchalantly into his pockets. He ignores the obnoxious cooing from his classmate, and follows the other student out of the classroom, across the hallway, and down the stairs. They step outside, and Touya can see his breath in the cold February air. The shorter boy turns on his heels and he has the reddest eyes Touya has ever seen. With two trembling hands, he expectantly holds out a white box with a hastily tied pink ribbon.
Touya reaches for the box, the pads of his fingers brushing across the other boy’s knuckles. He sheepishly retracts his gloved hands and Touya smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He tugs the pink ribbon from the cardboard, and opens the lid, staring down at a homemade chocolate heart with his name crudely drawn in white icing. He doesn’t have very steady hands, does he?
“You could have left this in my locker,” Touya prompts, thoughtfully rubbing his chin, “Is there something else you wanted to say?” He watches the shorter boy’s expression change, his innocently round eyes closing into thin slits of crimson beneath pinched brows. His jaw is clenched, seemingly annoyed at the notion of being asked for a confession. Touya’s lips pull into a tight grin, his interest piqued.
“You want me to say it?” He asks, reluctantly meeting Touya’s gaze. He’s cute with his nose crinkled like that.
“Isn’t that why you asked me out here?” Touya presses.
“I ruined two batches of chocolate before I made that one,” the boy admits reluctantly, tucking an errant strand of charcoal hair behind his ear.
“And?” Touya asks, taking a step forward. The shorter boy stumbles backward, until his scrawny shoulders collide with the concrete wall. He exhales his frustration sharply through his nose. Touya takes the opportunity to rest his forearm above his head, leaning down into his space.
“I really like you,” he grumbles.
Touya reaches up to smooth the hair away from Tenko’s face, then following the curve of his ear back to his jaw, cups it in his palm. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Touya grins, and he can feel the shiver forcibly wrack through the smaller boy’s body. He pushes himself onto his feet, shoving his hands back into his pockets, and walks towards the school building. “Thanks for the chocolate.”
He takes a bite, and it tastes fucking awful.
The next morning, Touya finds himself sitting at his desk, barely stifling a jaw-cracking yawn. Skipping across the room, Himiko grabs her chair, and turns it around to face Touya. She plops down, leaning her elbows on Touya’s desk. Her glossy lips split into a mischievous grin, “He’s a first year, ya know.”
“Who?” Touya asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes.
“The guy that confessed to you yesterday,” Himiko continues, “He’s Hana’s little brother.”
Hana? Touya’s eyes flint across the classroom, watching the rest of the 3-A class settle into their seats. He stops when he spots a familiar head of black hair, tied into two neat pigtails. He hasn’t really talked to her since the recommendation entrance exam. She has an anthokinesis quirk, which makes her perform poorly in the sports festival, but popular with the other girls. She smells faintly of plum blossoms. For a moment, Touya watches Hana write in her rose pink notebook, and supposes unsteady hands don’t run in the family.
“Touya,” Himiko laments, and he looks back towards her, “you haven’t told me anything. Did you break his little heart?”
“I like him,” Touya grins, “He’s weird.”
It’s not the first time Touya has received a heartfelt confession. In fact, the number two hero’s son has been given countless Valentine’s chocolates over the years. He’s watched girls fidget, the tips of their ears flushing a warm pink, as they stumble through admitting their feelings. But no one had dragged him out to the sports building, seemingly annoyed and inconvenienced by their own infatuation— until yesterday.
After class, Touya often finds himself wandering the first year hallways. He’s not looking for the shorter boy, not exactly, but the vending machines are better on the other side of campus. Rifling around in his pocket, he retrieves 120 yen, and pushes it into the coin slot. His finger hovers over the button for the caramel pudding shake, but he stops when he hears the sound of books clattering to the ground over his shoulder.
Two boys are standing over a hunched student, hurriedly trying to shove books back into his backpack. Reaching down, one of the delinquents grabs the smaller boy by the nape of his neck. He looks up, his eyes too big, too bright, red rimmed in his pale face, and Touya instantly recognises him. They’re yelling something, but Touya doesn’t hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. The vending machine forgotten, he stalks across the hallway, his boots scraping against the linoleum.
“Enough,” Touya seethes.
The delinquent with his hand fisted in the smaller boy’s jacket turns to look at Touya, and his face falls when he sees the third year. He sheepishly takes a half-step back and allows the boy to collect his belongings scattered across the floor. He hastily grabs his pens, his spiral notebook, and the loose paper spilled from his folder.
Stepping forward, Touya offers his hand down to Hana’s little brother. His pretty crimson eyes widen, staring back at Touya dumbstruck.
One of the other students scoffs, “Don’t you know what his quirk is?”
“Don’t you know mine?” Touya asks, blue flames circling in the centre of his palm. The two bullies scramble down the hallway, until they’re safely out of Touya’s sight.
With his brows pinched together in the middle, the younger boy hurriedly shoves the rest of his belongings into his backpack. Judging by the scarlet flush creeping beneath the collar of his shirt, Touya finds his help unwanted. Pushing himself onto his feet, he wanders across the hallway, and finally presses the button on the vending machine. “Are you going home?” The can clatters down the machine, and Touya reaches forward to retrieve it. “I’ll walk you.”
“Why?” He asks, his nose crinkled.
“Because,” Touya says, offering him the caramel pudding shake, “I’m not ready to go home yet.”
It takes a moment, the first year staring at the can in Touya’s outstretched hand, but eventually, he reaches forward, his little finger cautiously floating in the air. Touya quietly considers his glove— the black material carefully secured around his wrist, stretching over his thumb, pointer, and middle finger. He notices Touya staring and retrieves his hand.
Despite the first year's protests, they walk down the stairs together, and exit the building. The campus is quiet, most of the other students tucked away in their club classrooms. “You never told me your name,” Touya says, standing next to the smaller boy at the crosswalk.
“Tenko,” he admits reluctantly, huddling further into his blazer.
“Tenko,” Touya relishes the taste of the word, the way his tongue rolls with it. He follows dutifully after Tenko, watching his Thirteen keychain clink against the strap of his backpack. He wonders if Tenko wants to be a rescue hero, too. “What’s your quirk?”
Tenko’s sneakers come to a halt on the concrete. He opens his mouth to say something, but then promptly clicks his teeth shut. Touya turns to look at him, his hands shoved into his pockets. He can see the trepidation on Tenko’s face, the reluctance in the set of his jaw. “Decay,” Tenko says quietly. He stares at the ground, nervously shiftly his weight on his feet, “I can disintegrate anything I touch.”
Touya nods, “It’s kind of like mine.”
“It’s not anything like yours,” Tenko says bitterly, shouldering past him, “People aren’t afraid to touch you.” Reaching forward, Touya wraps his fingers around Tenko’s wrist. He continues the motion, sliding his fingers down, to hold Tenko’s hand. His fingers are cold in Touya’s grasp. A few passersby awkwardly meander around them on the sidewalk but Touya doesn’t seem to notice, too distracted by the soft expression on Tenko’s face.
They walk in companionable silence, Touya brushing his thumb across the back of Tenko’s knuckles. The first year’s eyebrows are pinched, his nose buried in the fabric of his scarf. If it wasn’t for the warm pink sitting high on his cheekbones, Touya would think Tenko was annoyed. Dragging Touya from his thoughts, Tenko pulls harshly on his hand, and it nearly yanks his shoulder out of his socket. They duck into a nearby convenience story with a neon green and blue facade. Touya follows Tenko while he stalks over to the refrigerator, carefully considering the selection of pudding. He grabs Touya’s favourite, the Kamadashi pudding sundae. They walk over to the cashier, and Tenko places the plastic cup on the counter, struggling to retrieve 298 yen from his opposite pocket. A small lopsided smile tugs at the corner of Touya’s lips, enjoying Tenko’s reluctance to let go of his hand. Exiting the shop, Tenko offers Touya the pudding, and he gratefully accepts.
“We’re even,” Tenko grumbles, walking ahead of the taller boy.
Touya barks a laugh, ripping open the plastic with his teeth.
Over the course of the next month, they fall into an easy routine. Touya waits for Tenko at the entrance of the school, and he sheepishly threads their fingers together. On the way home, they frequently stop at the convenience store. Touya learns Tenko’s favourite flavour of onigiri, his least favourite teacher, and his love of video games. And in return, Touya tells Tenko of his internship with Best Jeanist and his proclivity for strawberry ice cream. Most of all, he likes holding Tenko’s hand, and feeling his pulse beat against his skin.
Late one night, Touya finds himself in his kitchen, with bags of white chocolate strewn across the countertop. He dumps the chips into a metal bowl, and places it over a pot of boiling water. He only needs to melt the chocolate. It can’t be that hard right? Breaking his concentration, Touya feels his mobile vibrate in his back pocket. Leaning his elbows on the countertop, Touya unlocks the screen, and reads the text message from Himiko. She wants to copy his homework, but he hasn’t done it either. He types out a quick response until an acrid scent wafts into his nose.
“Oh, shit,” Touya mutters, clicking off the stove.
“What is that smell?” Fuyumi says, walking into the kitchen.
He grimaces, staring at the charcoal that was once chocolate at the bottom of the bowl, “Chocolate covered strawberries.”
Grabbing her apron from the back of the cabinet, Fuyumi neatly ties it around her waist. She wanders over to the sink to wash her hands. “The heat is too high,” she says, holding the last bag of white chocolate chips, “Let me show you.” After pouring the chocolate into a clean mixing bowl, Fuyumi turns the water on a low heat. The water begins to shimmer and she whisks the chocolate until it’s a smooth liquid. It smells delicious, despite the lingering scent of charcoal. She removes the chocolate from the heat, but continues whisking. “Do you want me to decorate them?”
“No,” Touya grins, opening the refrigerator to gather the strawberries, “I want to do it myself.”
With his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, Touya dips the strawberries in the melted chocolate. He places them haphazardly on the plate, and Fuyumi does her best to wipe away the excess chocolate with a napkin. Touya leans down, examining one of the strawberries. He pouts, “They don’t look good.”
“They look fine,” Fuyumi says. She crosses the kitchen, rifling in the drawer for a plastic sandwich bag. Pouring the remaining chocolate into the bag, Fuyumi cuts off the corner. She tries to hand it to Touya but he vehemently shakes his head. She smiles softly. Leaning down, Fuyumi drizzles the remaining chocolate over the strawberries, “Are these for someone in particular?” When she’s finished, she carefully rearranges the strawberries on the plate, and places them in the refrigerator to cool overnight.
“Yeah,” Touya admits, rubbing the back of his neck.
The school bell rings for lunch and Touya feels his stomach do an excited flip. He reaches for the box stuffed away in his desk, his thumb brushing across the satin pink ribbon. What if he doesn’t like it? Standing from his desk, Touya walks towards the door, and ignores Himiko’s protest to eat lunch together. He can’t seem to find the 1-B classroom, and asks a group of first year girls, who stare dumbly back at him. Eventually, he finds his way, and steadies his nerves at the door. Touya peers inside, and sees Tenko sitting at his desk, eating lunch with a boy he doesn’t recognise. His face is covered in green scales, his pastel pink hair pulled back from his face. He’s telling Tenko something excitedly, and he’s quietly listening while eating rice from his bento box. The small smile on Tenko’s lips draws Touya further into the room.
Approaching the desk, Touya wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers. “Can we go outside?”
Tenko’s head snaps to the side, his eyes widening. His gaze nervously flickers around the classroom, chewing on the inside of the cheek. The rest of the students are staring at them intently, the first year and one of the Big Three. Pushing back his chair, Tenko scrambles to his feet. He crosses the room in three quick strides, and Touya follows after him dutifully. He can see the tips of Tenko’s ears flush the colour of carnations, and he smiles despite himself. They walk to the sports building, and Touya thinks that’s fitting really.
Tenko turns, tucking an errant strand of charcoal hair behind the soft shell of his ear, “What did you want to talk about?” Clearing his throat, Touya offers Tenko the white box. They stand together for a few heartbeats, Tenko staring at the box in Touya’s hands, and Touya’s stomach twisting into knots. Eventually, Tenko reaches forward, and unties the ribbon. With his little fingers floating in the air, he lifts the lid on the box, revealing a neat row of white chocolate strawberries. Slowly, realisation dawns on Tenko’s face. It’s March 14th.
“I really like you, too,” Touya says, quietly.
Shifting onto his toes, Tenko’s gloved hands frame Touya’s face, and he presses their mouths together. His lips are soft, so much softer than Touya imagined. He parts his lips, opening his mouth in invitation. With an unexpected enthusiasm, Tenko slants his head, exploring the depths of Touya’s mouth with his tongue. He’s eager but inexperienced, and Touya smiles at the thought that it’s Tenko’s first kiss. The arm that was holding the box of chocolate wraps around Tenko’s waist, pulling him flush against Touya’s broad chest. His thumb teases the corner of Tenko’s mouth, brushing their tongues together. He shudders with pleasure in Touya’s grasp, and he bites down on his lower lip, hard enough to make Tenko gasp again.
The school bell rings, and the quiet around them is disrupted by the soft footfalls of other students hurrying to class. Touya reluctantly pulls away, smoothing an errant lock of hair back from Tenko’s forehead. “We have to go back,” he exhales.
Tenko looks up, stares at Touya, tracing his tongue across the front of his teeth. His unsteady hands grasp the collar of Touya’s shirt, craning his neck, until Tenko can brush their lips together. “I need you to kiss me again,” Tenko breathes, his ragged breath catching. He reaches forward, holding Touya’s face still as he licks into his mouth again. Fluttering his eyes closed, Touya thinks he would do anything Tenko asked. And he knows that will get him into trouble.