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It starts like this: Kyouka wakes up at the ass-crack of dawn so she can use the (thankfully private, she’s not sure she could share a whole bathroom with the hallway like her friend in the other dorm does) bathroom before any of her roommates. It’s mostly out of consideration since Kyouka likes long morning showers but the sink space and the showers are not separated.
But, when Kyouka steps out of the shower at 7 am, toweling her hair dry but unable to pull in the hairdryer out of consideration for her sleeping roommates, she finds herself without any other plans other than a pile of assignments waiting for her.
Really, it’s a recipe for disaster. Kyouka can’t remember the last time she’s been deliberately productive and even now she longs to crawl back under her covers and slip her headphones over her ears. Kyouka, freshly changed into day clothes, grabs her bag, laptop, and laptop charger and... intends to head to the library, really.
And she does.
Only to stop 20 feet away from the entrance as a raw egg drops and goes splat right and front of her and yes it splattered a bit on her but that’s okay she can live with—
Something falls on her head, sticky, wet, and cold.
Oh, hell no.
Kyouka lifts her hand to her head and yup, feels like raw egg and the pointy edges of a freshly cracked shell, the oozing raw yolk blending in with her slightly damp, freshly showered hair.
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry!” someone yells, and Kyouka looks up to the library’s second-story balcony to a boy with lightning blond hair.
He grabs one of his towels and disappears, presumably back into the library so he can come down to ground level because he better not be running away, Kyouka would hunt him down if he did.
Kyouka shrugs off her bag to the ground and uses her hands to gather as much of the icky egg as much as she can, sighing.
First thing in the morning and she’s already really, really over this day.
“Hey, hey! I’m really sorry, you okay?”
Kyouka smiles weakly. Because really, what is she supposed to say? Yes, I’m okay? She’s not dead if that constitutes his definition of “okay.” But being hit on the head with raw eggs is no one’s definition of a good morning.
Kyouka takes a deep breath, willing herself not to lose her temper because that won’t change anything.
“I—,” Kyouka starts, trying to shake off the goo off her fingers. “Do you have a napkin? Or tissues? ...Something.”
“Right!” the boy exclaims, dropping his backpack to the ground and unzipping it. “Uh, yeah I have napkins in here somewhere, just hold on... Aha!”
He hands her napkins and she gratefully takes it, wiping some of the stickiness off her fingers then patting her head to get off the excess goo.
Kyouka purses her lips, fingers twitching, then sighs and shifts her gaze to the boy in front of her, intending to thank him for the napkins, or maybe admonish him for doing what seems to have been a physics project at the busy (or maybe not that busy this early in the morning) library entrance, she’s not sure.
The words die on her tongue as she takes in the boy in front of her, who, even with the concern in his eyes, shines like sulfur fireworks in the early morning light, bright yellow and crystalline.
Kyouka has always liked pretty things: pretty sounds, pretty clothes, pretty words laced into a melodic tune.
He’s pretty.
And she—
She’s still covered in egg goo.
The boy watches her, biting into his bottom lip that Kyouka’s eyes are not drawn to, she’s icky and disgusting, and now is not the time to be looking at boys.
“I’m really sorry,” he says solemnly.
Kyouka holds her tongue before something snarky comes out. Because a nice person would say “it’s fine, don’t worry about it” because what can be done about it at this point?
But Kyouka doesn’t feel like a nice person, at least not right now. Not to a pretty boy who ruined her morning and he’s going to get away with it, isn’t he? That’s what pretty boys do.
What’s worse is that she’s going to let him get away with it.
Instead, Kyouka opts to say nothing at all, focusing on using the napkins.
There’s probably enough time to go back and shower again.
Yeah, she can do that. She takes a deep, calming breath and waves the boy off in lieu of saying anything of substance, then turns around and speedwalks back in the direction she came in.
It’s whatever, Kyouka decides, huffing as she speeds away. The sooner she gets out of here the better. She can shower again, go back to her original plans, and cut this infuriating encounter short.
She quite literally crashes into him a month later.
Actually, that's wrong. He crashes into her.
She’d been strolling campus when she glanced up and saw a balloon drift by and up. Her eyes were following it when suddenly he came barreling at her, full speed, and when Kyouka noticed him coming, she had no time left to react.
She doesn’t fall, but she does stagger considerably. Disorientated, she blinks owlishly at the blonde boy, but he’s not looking at her, he’s looking at the balloon drifting away.
A gust of wind blows the balloon further away and he jumps back from ber and chases it down.
“Sorry!” he yells back at her.
She blinks at his retreating figure and hopes they don't run into each other again.
Thursdays are Kyouka’s favorite day of the week because it’s the day that she gets to see Momo.
They’re from different departments which makes it hard for the two of them to meet up with their busy schedule, but even if they hadn’t gone to the same college, Kyouka would still make time for Momo.
This is why, after a long and grueling week of classes, Kyouka starts heading to the study hall they agreed to meet up at a little early.
She enters the study hall and scans the room for Momo’s signature ponytail. She spots her at the far left edge of the room so she beelines over.
But, as she’s weaving in and out of the tables, she notices the boy sitting next to Momo and—
“What are you doing here?” Kyouka asks, a hand on her hip as she approaches Momo’s table.
“Kyouka!” Momo exclaims with a smile, “You came early.”
“Hi Momo,” Kyouka says, not looking at her. “My class released us early.”
Finally, the boy looks up from the worksheet he had been staring at with furrowed brows.
“Do you two... know each other?” Momo ventures.
“Ah!” the blonde exclaims, probably too loud for a study hall. A couple people nearby look over. “It's egg girl!”
Egg girl.
“Uh...” Kyouka says.
Momo comes in to save them.
“Kyouka, this is Kaminari Denki, I’m tutoring him. Kaminari, this is Kyouka, my best friend.”
“Oh!” the boy— Kaminari— says. “Well, nice to meet you Kyouka! I’m really sorry about last time, but uh, you walked away before I could say anything else but that’s totally understandable since I’m sure you wanted to get the egg off of you and—”
Kyouka brings her fingers to massage her temple because what the fuck—
“—but I was hoping I could make it up to you so maybe I could buy you a meal sometime?”
Well, regardless of all the other factors, Kyouka isn’t one to turn down free food.
“That’s fair,” Kyouka says, smiling a little. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m stealing Momo.”
He laughs, and he’s just as pretty as the morning she met him, honestly, how unfair. They exchange numbers.
“Cool, see you later!”
Kyouka does a little wave, leading Momo (who has been giving them curious looks) out of the study hall.
The doors of the study hall close behind them.
“Kyouka,” Momo implores. “Explain!”
Kyouka stares at the new contact on her phone.
“I’m not really sure either,” she says.
Kaminari: hey!! its Denki!!
Kaminari: when r u free to grab a bite :D
Smiling, Kyouka texts back.
Kyouka: Sunday?
Kaminari: yeah! lunch?
Kyouka: yeah :)
Of all places, they meet up that quiet Sunday afternoon in front of the campus library.
It’s a little awkward at first but Kaminari is the type of chatter freely and Kyouka, when she’s not covered in a raw egg or rudely rammed into, is a pretty civil conversation partner.
They decide to get burgers at a nearby plaza. It’s supposed to be a quick apology meal so it baffles Kyouka how they end up at her favorite record store half across town, neck-deep in the dusty stacks, flipping through piles of vinyl.
“If I knew we were coming here I would have brought my headphones along,” Kyouka muses, flipping through newer disks.
“I have earbuds!” Kaminari says, perking up.
“I have mine too but it's not the same,” Kyouka tosses back. “Sound quality from headphones makes a world of a difference.”
When they do eventually get burgers, she takes pleasure in the widening of Kaminari’s eyes when she lends him an earbud to listen to the music on her phone together.
That’s supposed to be the end of it, Kyouka is antisocial in that way. She doesn’t reach out unless the other person does first.
With Momo it was different. They went to high school together and saw each other every day so when it came time for that routine to end, Kyouka sought Momo out.
But nowadays, the only people she sees with that much frequency are her roommates, which she gets along with well enough, but she mostly goes back to her dorm to sleep, not socialize.
Denki, though.
They don’t see each other around campus, which makes Kyouka think the first three times they bumped into each other seem like hallucinations.
But he texts her things.
Songs. They discuss those and she sends songs back. Memes. She laughs more than she admits to him she does. Pictures. Usually of something dumb he did that day and occasionally, rarely, a selfie.
She saves everything. She even makes a youtube playlist with all the songs he’s sent to her, mixed together with his favorites out of the songs she recommended.
So when she heads over to the physics department for her general education course, she doesn’t hesitate to call out to him when she sees him walking down the hallway with a stack of papers in his hands.
Kyouka knows it’s weird but she swears he sparks when he sees her.
“Hey Jirou!” he says, an excited grin slipping onto his face. He balances the papers in one hand and holds out a fist.
Kyouka stares at it blankly for a second, unsure, then brings up her own fist to tap against his knuckles.
“How have you been?” Denki asks, moving to walk alongside her.
“Good,” she replies lightly. “Got class.”
“Oh,” Denki says, shifting the papers in his arms. “For how long?”
“Hour and a half.”
“Are you free after?”
“Yes,” Kyouka says slowly, cautious, “I am. Why?”
“I have the keys to the rooftop today,” he says cheerfully. “Wanna grab a bite to eat up there after your class?”
“Why do you have the keys to the rooftop?”
“I help out in the greenhouse up there sometimes.”
Kyouka tugs at her bangs, wishing she brushed her hair today instead of tossing it up in a messy ponytail.
“That’s pretty cool,” she says and means it. “I’m down for that.” She stops walking. “This is my class, see you later?”
“Cool, catch after your class then!” He grins, jovial and wide.
“Woah, it's gorgeous up here,” Kyouka gasps, taking in the view of the entire campus from up high.
“Yeah it’s nice up here,” Denki agrees, “But not as gorgeous as—”
Kyouka’s heart stops for a millisecond.
“—these delicious hamburgers!”
Silly girl, Kyouka thinks to herself.
“Are hamburgers all you think about?” she asks jokingly as they settle down near the edge of the railing.
“What's wrong with that?” he says defensively, handing her a burger. “There's nothing in this world as yummy as hamburgers.”
She rolls her eyes half-heartedly at him, unwrapping it.
“I never got to ask,” Kyouka says. “Why were you dropping eggs in front of the library?”
He chuckled nervously and scratches the back of his head.
“Just a physics project,” he tells her. “‘Twas bad timing.”
“What about the balloon?”
“Balloon?” he asks, confused.
Kyouka brings up her knees to rest her arms on him, turning to look at him.
“You crashed into me once while chasing a balloon.”
He blinks, then recognition fills his eyes and he says, “Yikes, it's a wonder that you don’t hate me.”
“You make it hard to,” Kyouka says as nonchalantly as possible, making sure it could be taken as a joke.
“Oh come on,” Denki whines. “You love me and you know it.”
“You said it, not me.”
He pouts.
It’s a thing.
She tells that much to Momo after a couple more hangouts with Denki. Same time, not quite the same place. They’d visited her favorite record shop again last week.
Momo sips her tea and as Kyouka tells her about Denki, trying to not make it sound like more than it is.
“We’re friends, I think,” she ends up settling on.
“Okay,” Momo says simply, putting down her teacup. “But do you want to be?”
“Yes?” Kyouka says and realizes how unsure she sounds. “Yes,” she says again, more firmly.
“Okay,” Momo says again. “So what’s the problem?”
Kyouka falls silent, fiddling with the sleeves of her sweater.
Her class was canceled today, so Kyouka seeks Denki out earlier than the usual time.
He told her that he helps out in the physics labs and the greenhouse, so she looks for the labs first, planning to wait for him in a nearby study hall after popping in to say hi.
She hears him before she sees him, she thinks she might be able to pick out his laugh from anywhere, and that should be a problem, maybe, but she doesn’t think it's too big of one.
She turns the corner and opens her mouth to call out to him, only to stop abruptly.
He’s talking to someone else, his expression bright and open. The girl he’s talking to giggles and steps closer to him so they’re practically brushing shoulders.
Oh, Kyouka thinks.
That's the thing about pretty and friendly guys. Everyone probably acts this way towards him and he’s probably used to it. She’s been reading this wrong, most likely. She’s not special.
He made her feel special, but it doesn’t mean that she is.
Kyouka turns her heels around.
“What’s up with you today?” he asks her.
That irks Kyouka but she tries not to let it show. She focuses on munching on fries.
She never used to eat fast food this much. She wipes the grease off her fingers with a napkin, suddenly struck with the feeling of gooey raw egg oozing down her head.
She feels like that day: an unattractive mess and one step away from blowing a fuse.
He leans towards her, their faces inches apart and he scrutinizes her with furrowed brows.
“Seriously, I’m here if you want to talk about it,” he says.
She knows with a prickly persona like hers, good friends are far and few in between, and she is a little terrified of losing him as a friend if she makes the wrong move.
What’s the problem? Momo had asked her.
The problem is that Kyouka wants more but she's so, so sure Denki doesn’t.
Still, Kyouka thinks, recklessly, that she wants to know for sure.
“I like you,” she blurts out. Suddenly, she’s hyper-aware that her lips are chapped and her hair is a mess today. She looks down and picks at her nails. “I— I just wanted to put that out there so I could, like, move on or whatever.” Kyouka resists the urge to bolt.
Slowly, Kyouka lifts her head to look at him and he looks... confused.
“So you could... move on?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Kyouka says, a little strangled. “Like, totally cool that you don’t feel the same way, and I’m sure I’ll be okay, so if you just want to continue—”
He cuts her off by leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers.
And—
Oh.
He tastes like salt and grease. Yet his touch sparks chemical combustion in her heart, the ignition she hadn’t hoped to wait for, and yet she burns.
He pulls away, out of breath, and whispers. “No moving on.” Then, that stupid wide grin she loves appears. “I like you too.”