Work Text:
Saihara watches as Akamatsu hurriedly scribbles in a notepad, sitting on his bed with a focused expression. Saihara rubs his temples from where he’s seated at his work desk, and prays that whatever Akamatsu is deciding does not cost him his sanity.
Akamatsu holds out her notepad, tapping the surface authoritatively with her pencil. “So, I got five ideas. I’m certain these will work.”
Saihara takes the notepad from her hands, confused yet intrigued, and begins reading through the notes.
How to Get Ouma-kun to Fall For You in Five Easy Steps :D
- Pick up lines! No one can resist those ;)
- Buy him a drink! Preferably panta
- Assert your dominance! A kabedon would do just fine!
- Eye contact and smiling!
- Contact! Hugging, holding hands, etc, something cute
In mere seconds, Saihara’s face turns bright red. “Akamatsu-san, I don’t— I don’t like Ouma-kun!” He insists, slamming the notepad onto his desk and pretending he never saw it. Akamatsu laughs, as if he just told a lie. And it’s definitely not a lie, he really doesn’t like Ouma.
(Maybe he’s just in denial, but that’s completely fine with him. He’s most definitely not doing whatever Akamatsu suggested for him.
Definitely not. Okay, maybe not. Fuck, he probably will.)
“I’ve seen the way you look at him, Saihara-kun, you’re pretty obvious about it,” Akamatsu remarks, amused. Saihara splutters, avoiding her gaze.
...Okay, maybe he’s been staring at Ouma a lot more often than he should. And maybe he’s had a middle school crush on Ouma since— literally, middle school. Before Hope’s Peak, even. But looking at Akamatsu’s list, he’s almost sure he’ll be torched alive with embarrassment if he even tries to follow through with the steps.
Akamatsu stares at his with pleading eyes, as if begging him to at least think about it. He sighs, and then imagines going on a date with Ouma as his boyfriend, and his mind blanks completely.
“…Why do I always end up listening to you?” He mumbles weakly, hunching over his table and flipping over the notepad. Akamatsu squeals, clapping happily.
“I mean, you did help Iruma-san and I get together, so I thought I’d return the favor!” She explains. And while it certainly does sound like the truth, it doesn’t sound like the entire truth.
“…”
Just a minute in, and he already feels like he’s going to regret agreeing to this.
Pick-up lines. It’s not secret to Saihara that he has absolutely zero knowledge about the cheesy lines. So, an hour of extensive research later, he conjures up five that he supposes aren’t as bad as most of them are.
(He remembers reading through a list online, and one read “I’m on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?” And then he proceeded to imagine saying that exact line to Ouma, and sat, frozen in unadulterated embarrassment, at his laptop screen, that ended up dying because of the sheer amount of time he decided to keep it open while having the gayest panic of his life.)
Anyways. Saihara arrives to class that morning holding a cup of coffee to his lips, sipping at it carefully. Surprisingly, he isn’t the last one there, despite him thinking he would run late from his last-minute trip to the coffee shop.
He spots Akamatsu sitting at her seat in the back, and she proceeds to give him a thumbs up. Saihara frowns, eyebrows furrowing, and then sees Ouma, who’s sitting at his seat, and playing with— wait, is that what he thinks it is?!
Saihara chokes on his coffee, just barely able to keep his cup from falling to the floor. Thankfully, his desk is right next to the door, so he sets down his cup, plopping onto the seat with a sigh.
“What managed to surprise Saihara-chan so much that he choked on his coffee?” It’s at that point, that Saihara remembers: Ouma sits right beside him in class. Saihara glances to the side, eyes trailing over the item in Ouma’s hands (he realizes it’s another one of Iruma’s inventions that look questionably similar to a collar), before his eyes lock on Ouma’s.
What comes out of his mouth was not meant to escape. It just slipped.
“I’m on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?”
Saihara takes about five seconds to process the words in his head, and then he snaps his mouth shut, slamming a hand over it in embarrassment. Holy shit. Thankfully, no one’s paying him any mind, but that wasn’t what he was going to say. He said the one line he absolutely knew he didn’t want to say.
Ouma’s mouth drops, and the toy that he was playing with drops to the floor, flopping to the side. Then, Saihara watches as his pale cheeks begin to pinken progressively until Ouma turns as red as a tomato.
That was… definitely not the reaction he expected. But Saihara doesn’t think he’ll ever recover from this particular moment.
“Who are you and what have you done to my beloved Saihara-chan!” Ouma accuses, facepalming himself.
“I— it’s me? I’m not? Uh?” Saihara stammers, before deciding that his efforts are futile. He then proceeds to drop his head into his hands, embarrassed beyond belief.
“…I’ll let that slide and pretend I never heard that, just because it’s Saihara-chan,” he hears Ouma say, and that makes his blush intensify impossibly further.
The bell rings right on time. Saved by the bell, Saihara thinks, relieved.
(He catches Ouma staring at him far too many times during the class period that day.)
(“Saihara-kun… w-what was that?” Akamatsu asks, tears of amusement in her eyes. “‘I’m on top of things, would you like to be one?’ That’s not what I was referring to, b-but it still works.”
”It just slipped,” Saihara mumbles, face buried in his hands. “That isn’t what I meant, I swear.”
Akamatsu grins, nudging his shoulder. “Well~! She starts teasingly, eyes flickering to Ouma. “It seems to have been well recieved.”
”A-Akamatsu-san?!”)
Saihara decides that maybe he owes Ouma an apology. That’s where Akamatsu’s second step comes into play. And even though he vowed to himself, after the first incident, that he wouldn’t follow the list, he decides that maybe it’s a good idea to get Ouma his favorite drink: panta.
It’s during lunch, the same day, that he goes to the cafeteria to buy a cold bottle of the grape soda. It’s also during lunch, that he hears a very interesting conversation between Iruma and Ouma.
“…I swear, if you do that, I am going to have my organization skin you alive,” Ouma threatens.
“Oh, I’m sure you’re gonna do it. Or Shyhara, either one of you,” Iruma comments, smug. Ouma lets out a loud huff, before pushing off the bench and walking away.
They’re talking about him? Saihara wonders what it’s about. He shrugs, then heads in the direction he saw Ouma head off to.
...At which points, he notices Ouma sitting next to a tree, pulling his scarf off.
Saihara almost thinks it’s too intimate of a scene for him to suddenly walk in to, but it’s too late— Ouma’s already noticed him, and is staring at him with curious purple eyes that have no right looking so beautiful.
“Saihara-chan! Missed me already?” He chirps, eyes glinting. Saihara winces.
“W-what are you doing?” He asks. Honestly, he’s a bit surprised that Ouma would decide to do something like this— he’s never seen him with his scarf off before. His eyes trail unwillingly to his collarbone. And then they drop to the grass hurriedly.
Ouma raises an eyebrow. “Oooh~! I’m obviously trying to seduce my beloved right now,” he drawls in a sultry tone, and Saihara brings a hand to cover his steadily warming face. He’s almost sure it’s a lie, but can’t stop himself from blushing.
“I know that’s a lie, Ouma-kun,” he deadpans, which earns him an unfairly cute giggle.
“Fine, fine, you got me,” Ouma relents, and then knocks the back of his head against the tree. “It’s just hot you know?”
Saihara blinks. Ouma’s doing this because it’s… hot? It doesn’t entirely add up, but then, he remembers the cold panta in his hand. He kneels down to Ouma’s height, sitting with his legs crossed, and then holds out the bottle to him.
Ouma stares at the bottle offered to him, an eyebrow raised. Then, his eyes light up, a teasing smirk making its way to his face.
“Is my beloved trying to court me~?” He sings, and Saihara winces, rearing back just slightly.
“N-no! I just wanted to offer it as an apology for earlier,” he insists. At the sudden reminder, Ouma’s eyes widen, and before Saihara can comprehend what’s happening, the Panta is snatched from his hand, and Ouma’s head is turned away.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my beloved,” Ouma lies, twisting open the cap. “All I remember is going to class.”
Saihara cocks his head to the side just barely, and sees that Ouma’s cheeks have acquired a pink tone. And that shouldn’t be cute, it really shouldn’t, but Saihara just thinks that it’s because it’s Ouma that he finds it unbelievably adorable.
Ouma’s eyes suddenly snap to his, and Saihara’s caught between being embarrassed and breathtaken, because the way Ouma’s eyebrows twitch ever so slightly in amusement shouldn’t look as captivating as it does.
Ouma’s lips separate from the rim of the bottle, and he sighs. Then, he holds the bottle out to Saihara.
“Would my beloved like to try some?” Ouma asks, holding the bottle back and winking. And really, Saihara should’ve said no the moment the suggestion was brought up, but his brain was already heading into overdrive and he thinks he might just melt from the sheer amount of embarrassment, compiled with the heat of the summer day.
He hesitantly reaches forward, and Ouma’s eyes widen just a fraction, before he passes the drink over. Saihara holds the bottle over his lips.
Saihara has to be honest, he was only planning to waterfall it, because he’s not so far gone that he doesn’t know that putting his lips on the rim of the bottle would be an indirect kiss. Just a quick sip, nothing else, and then he can leave. But what he doesn’t expect, is Ouma’s hand slipping on the scarf that lay sprawled on the floor, and falling face first towards Saihara’s knee.
Saihara’s fight-or-flight instinct kicks in, and in that split second of panic, he tosses the panta to the side, ignoring the way it spills all over the grass, and his arms move to grip Ouma’s shoulders. Their faces end up mere inches away from each other, but at least Saihara managed to prevent Ouma from slamming his chin against his knee.
“I-if Shumai wanted a kiss, he could’ve just asked,” Ouma teases, sounding breathless, and Saihara catches the stutter in the beginning of his sentence. That’s when he becomes completely aware of the compromising position their in, mere inches away from kissing, and his knee dangerously close to Ouma’s… uh.
“Ah! I’m sorry!” Saihara blurts out, pulling away and trying to regain his leverage by slamming his hands into the grass behind him. Ouma giggles silently, a hand over his mouth, and if Saihara wasn’t sure before, he is now: Ouma’s definitely blushing. Ouma’s eyes flicker from Saihara over to the panta bottle, and he sighs, pulling away his hand.
“But now my panta’s grass food!” He complains. Then, his eyes travel to Saihara. “I’ll forgive you since you’re cute though, Sai-ha-ra-chan~!” He sings, and suddenly, jumps to his feet. Saihara stares at him, heart still pounding, and Ouma blows him a kiss.
“Anyways, I’m gonna have to go now, my beloved,” he says, and Saihara blinks. “I have an astronaut to prank, after all.”
Isn’t that a bit sudden? Just as Ouma turns around, Saihara spots the checkered scarf lying innocently in the grass, and he opens his mouth to call Ouma back, but when he looks up again, the other is gone.
He grabs the scarf, intent on getting it back to the supreme leader.
The fact stands that Hope’s Peak doesn’t require their students to attend classes. That’s what gives Saihara the most trouble.
He asks around, crossing paths with Amami and Iruma (who he thinks are the closest to Ouma), and even asks the class 77 teacher who somehow manages to find anyone and everyone, Yukizome-sensei, but he still doesn’t find the smaller boy. A thought crosses his mind, and he begins second-guessing himself.
Is Ouma avoiding me?
He shakes the idea off, because even if Ouma is avoiding him, he wants to give the scarf back anyways. It’s one-of-a-kind, from what Saihara knows, and he’s pretty sure Ouma doesn’t want anyone seeing him without it.
“Saihara-kun?!” Saihara turns his head in the direction of which he heard his name called, and sees Akamatsu running towards him. He waves, tucking Ouma’s scarf into his pocket.
“Hey, Akamatsu-san,” he greets, smiling. Akamatsu taps a finger to her chin, before narrowing her eyes.
“Are you looking for Ouma-kun? Because I saw him earlier,” she reveals. Saihara perks up, interest peaking.
“W-where’d he go?” He asks.
“I saw him head towards your research lab… uh, about five minutes ago? I’m not sure if he’s still there, though,” she explains, humming to herself. Saihara’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. Why exactly did Ouma-kun choose to go to my research lab?
“Thanks, Akamatsu-san,” he says, smiling. Akamatsu opens her mouth as if she wants to say something, and then shuts it. Saihara tilts his head, waiting. Her lips curl into a smirk.
“…I take it that you haven’t forgotten about the list?” She asks, and Saihara freezes. He adverts his gaze, and fiddles with his sleeve.
“Um, I haven’t?” He admits. Akamatsu laughs, before resting a hand atop his shoulder.
“Well, we’ll have to see how things go from here, right?” She remarks. A rhetorical question, and Saihara doesn’t answer. “Anyways, I’m going to find Iruma-san— she’s been looking for me all day.”
Saihara gives Akamatsu another thanks, and heads in the direction of the building. Right as he turns the corner to his research lab, he notices a familiar blur of purple darting in the opposite direction.
“O-Ouma-kun!” He calls, and for a moment, Ouma pauses, and Saihara takes that quick moment of tranquility to approach the supreme leader. As soon as he’s within arm’s reach, Ouma’s eyes widen.
“Oh, Saihara-chan! Sorry, my beloved, but I’m currently being chased by aliens from Jupiter, I have to leave,” Ouma chirps, trying to duck past him. And Saihara really can’t stop making bad decisions today, because before Ouma can escape, he cages him against the wall, slamming his hands to the side of Ouma’s head. They both fall silent.
“……” It takes about five seconds for Ouma’s face to begin turning red, and the supreme leader quickly unfreezes, ducking underneath Saihara’s arms. Right before Saihara calls out to him again, Ouma holds up his hand, revealing the checkered scarf Saihara had been trying to give back to Ouma for the past few hours.
“If this is what you wanted to get me, you didn’t have to do that. As I was saying before, I’m being chased by aliens, so I’ll see you, my beloved!”
Saihara’s eyes widen, and he reaches forward, opening his mouth the call the other back. However, all Ouma does is send him a quick wink, before dashing out the building.
Saihara sighs. Maybe Ouma really is avoiding him? He really hopes that isn’t the case.
He discovers the next day, that Ouma’s not avoiding him. Actually, he’s still not sure: but it seems that the supreme leader has reverted to his usual cheerful self?
Saihara’s sitting at the wooden table beside the cafeteria, reading a novel. (Actually, most of his mind is occupied by thoughts of Ouma… but to others, it’d look like he’s reading the book.)
“Saihara-chaaaan!” Saihara lifts his head when he hears the familiar voice call out his name, ear twitching slightly. He sets down his novel, directing his attention to the boy walking towards the table.
“Ouma-kun,” Saihara greets, resting his chin on a fist. Ouma grins, before taking a seat across from him.
(He pays close attention to the fact that Ouma has a hand hidden discreetly behind his back. Is there a reason for that?)
“How’s my beloved doing on this fine day?” Ouma asks, smirking. Saihara raises an eyebrow. It’s not actually a particular good day: clouds fill the sky, making it look as if it’ll rain any second. However, he blinks, and the smirk is gone— replaced with a surprisingly genuine smile.
His eyes flit from Ouma’s mouth to his purple eyes, and then he remembers Akamatsu’s… note.
”Eye contact and smiling.”
While he never intended on following through with the steps exactly, he eventually found that his thoughts always gravitate towards wanting Ouma to be his boyfriend. Which might be the motivation for actually agreeing with Akamatsu, but the fact still stands that he kinda-sorta promised his best friend that he would follow.
Eye contact is something that he can hold, but not for too long. Though, he finds that with Ouma, he swears he can get lost in what seems like a galaxy of purple in his eyes (not to be poetic or anything), and Saihara finds that Ouma’s eyes are actually very pleasing to look at.
So, he gives Ouma a smile, eyes softening. “I’m doing good, Ouma-kun,” he answers. Ouma’s grin seems to falter a bit, and he looks a bit taken aback. Though, that moment’s hesitation is quickly masked by yet another happy grin, and Saihara can’t help but think that the grin seems a lot more genuine than usual.
Ouma shifts in his seat, and Saihara catches a glint of something behind him. He furrows his eyebrows.
“So, I was thinking,” Ouma speaks up, and then pulls out a— wait, why is Ouma carrying a knife around? Saihara’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth, but Ouma holds out a hand.
“From Harukmaki-chan’s lab,” he claims, winking. “And, don’t worry your pretty head, I’m not gonna go around killing people.”
Saihara’s face heats up slightly at getting called “pretty,” before he remembers that Ouma’s still carrying around a knife.
“Ouma-kun, you could get in trouble for walking around with a weapon…” he trails off, eyeing the sharp item warily. Ouma snorts.
“I told you, relax, Shumai! Let’s play a game, nishishi,” Ouma giggles. And, Saihara really would play, but if the knife is involved, one of them can possibly get hurt. Before Ouma can even let him respond, the smaller boy flips the knife expertly (where’d he learn to do that?), and stabs it into the table. Saihara winces at the sound of splintering wood.
“What game?” Saihara asks, leaning back. Ouma snickers.
“Ever heard of the knife game?” He answers, and then pulls the knife out of the table. He then proceeds to stab into the wood between his index and middle finger. Saihara’s eyes widen.
That’s dangerous… His mind unhelpfully supplies him, but he’s unable to stop his curiosity. From the way Ouma handles the knife, it’s almost as if he’s practiced with it— something that Saihara finds a bit surprising.
Without warning, Ouma’s hand begins moving. Saihara watches in fascination as the knife begins picking up speed, just barely hitting the table before getting lifted back up. Saihara worries that Ouma will somehow end up cutting a finger off.
“A-ah, Ouma-kun, I think that’s enou—” Saihara visibly flinches when he hears the “shlck” that pierces the air. He hears Ouma hiss, and his hands dart out instinctively, concern clouding his thoughts.
He sees that Ouma’s nicked his ring finger, and upon closer inspection, it’s quite deep. Saihara bites his lip, eyebrows furrowed, before dropping Ouma’s hand gently. He slides out of his own seat, and remembers that Tsumiki’s office is nearby.
“Let’s go to Tsumiki-san, we should have her check the wound,” Saihara suggests, offering a hand. Ouma stares at it for a moment, before pointedly turning his head away.
“Whaaa? It doesn’t even hurt, I’m fine!” Ouma insists, turning around and standing on his feet. Saihara sees a finger accidentally brush against the wound, and watches as Ouma grimaces.
“Ouma-kun—” Half afraid that he would run off again, Saihara reaches forward and grabs Ouma’s wrist. He may have overestimated how much force he uses to pull him, because Ouma stumbles, mouth opened into a surprised “o” shape. Saihara’s eyes widen, and he panics a bit, because Ouma can’t possibly stabilize himself properly with a still-bleeding finger.
Without thinking, he pulls Ouma towards himself, wrapping an arm around the supreme leader’s waist. That earns him a loud squeak, and he looks down to meet Ouma’s blank face, tinted with a light pink.
They stay in that position for a moment, both silent. When Saihara’s heart finally calms down, he realizes that they’re in a very intimate position. Much closer than they should be as just “friends”.
Saihara feels his face burn, and quickly unwounds his arm, apologizing quietly. Ouma huffs, turning away.
“If my beloved wanted a hug, he could’ve just asked,” he grumbles, and it sounds more embarrassed than teasing. Saihara smiles sheepishly, because he knows Ouma knows that it was an accident.
“U-uh, please get your finger checked by Tsumiki-san?” He tries again. He’s suddenly aware that his hand is still wrapped around Ouma’s wrist, and drops it.
Ouma’s purple eyes dart to his own, before narrowing. His face then proceeds to turn a darker shade of red, and he turns back around entirely. “…Yeah, yeah.” He coughs into his fist, his hair bouncing with the movement. Then, he holds up a hand in goodbye, walking in the direction of the building. “I’ll see you later, my beloved!” He calls.
And that leaves Saihara, standing at the wooden bench with a novel and a knife, wondering what the hell just happened.
(He fails to realize that he unconsciously followed Akamatsu’s last step. Contact.)
Saihara interacts with all his classmates at least once a day (some more than others, for example, Ouma). So, naturally, that would mean that he regularly speaks with Iruma. Which he does. However, he’s more than just a bit intrigued when she accidentally gives him a very cryptic message.
“I swear, I am never going to you for advice again,” Saihara hears Ouma hiss, and Iruma scoffs in what sounds like amusement. Ouma stands up abruptly from his seat, the chair screeching loudly as it slides over the ground.
“Good luck, Twinkma!” She calls smugly, and Saihara watches as Ouma throws the classroom door open, storming out, before slamming it shut. Saihara blinks. What had he just witnessed?
Iruma catches him staring at the door, and her lips quirk into a smirk. “Heh, were you staring at his ass or something?” She teases. She asks the question so nonchalantly that Saihara almost says yes, but then he claps a hand over a mouth when he realizes. He hears Iruma cackle, and lowers his head in embarrassment. Well, he really wasn’t.
(That’s what he tries to convince himself.)
Her laugh fades out eventually, and she crosses her arms. “Well, I bet you don’t have to wait long,” she remarks. Then, a look of realization crosses her face. “Ehh fuck, I probably shouldn’t have said that. Oh well.”
Saihara tilts his head in confusion. “What?” He asks, and she waves him off.
“Nothing, Shyhara,” she says, before standing up too. “I didn’t say anything, haha!”
Saihara raises an eyebrow as Iruma heads out the classroom too. Maybe he imagined all that? Okay, actually, he knows that even his imagination can’t conjure up something as absurd as that.
He’ll hopefully figure out… whatever that was later. Damn, he shouldn’t have decided to forgo his coffee this morning.
He heads to his research lab to hopefully get caught up on some cases Kirigiri had asked for assistance with. However, he doesn’t expect to see a familiar head of purple, standing right outside the door, face hidden behind a large bouquet of flowers. Extraordinarily large, something that Saihara’s guessing Ouma got from the Ultimate Florist from a year above.
When Saihara reaches him, Ouma lowers the bouquet, beaming at him. Saihara freezes as the bouquet is then thrust into his chest.
“W-what… what’s this, Ouma-kun?” He retracts slightly, taking hold of the flowers before they fall. Ouma smiles innocently, rocking on his heels. His next words almost make Saihara drop the bouquet right then and there:
“I’m here to confess my undying love to you, of course, nishishi!”
Saihara’s eyes widen, and he stumbles a bit. “T-that’s not a funny joke…” he mumbles, face almost hidden entirely by the bouquet of flowers. He sees Ouma’s expression shift from playful to serious in a split second, and blinks.
“It’s not a lie, Saihara-chan,” he says. Ouma looks to the side momentarily, looking thoughtful, and Saihara’s lips thin.
“So, will you go on a date with me?” Ouma asks, meeting his eyes. Saihara’s brain short-circuits.
Did Ouma just… what?
“Will I— huh?” He repeats dumbly, eyebrows furrowed. He watches Ouma’s face for any sign of a lie, but surprisingly doesn’t find any.
“I asked you out on a date, my beloved,” Ouma states matter-of-factly, and Saihara has to pinch himself to make sure it isn’t a dream. And ouch, it isn’t a dream. Ouma’s face shifts into an expression of false sadness.
“Unless you don’t want to?” Saihara swears he detects a hint of genuine worry in his words, and his brain starts to work again. His mouth opens on its own, words tumbling out.
“N-no! Um, I’d like to go on a date with you, Ouma-kun,” he blurts out. A look of surprise passes Ouma’s face, and then his cheeks glow a light pink.
“Of course you would!” He agrees, and Saihara flushes. Then, Ouma walks closer, pushing the large bouquet aside.
“Though… consider this my real present, nishishi~!” He sings, and then before Saihara can really process it, Ouma leans close to his face, pressing a soft kiss against his lips.
Kiss?
Saihara’s mouth drops, and he feels his cheeks flame. As fast as it had come, Ouma’s lips leave, and the supreme leader hides the lower half of his face underneath his scarf.
Cute… Saihara thinks, past his completely flustered state. Though, that only serves to make him even more flustered, and he moves to cover his face with the bouquet.
He sneaks a glance at Ouma through the spaces between the flowers, and see that the smaller boy seems uncharacteristically embarrassed too. He smiles.
A genuine reaction… something that he hadn’t ever expected from Ouma. Though, looking at things now, with the fact that Ouma asked him out, truthfully, Saihara can only assume that he’ll receive more of those reactions from the other in the future.
...That still doesn’t change the fact that he’s still deprived of his coffee. Because, maybe if he actually decided to drink it, he would’ve been able to process all of this a little better.
(He can’t wait for their date. That’s the only thing he can process now.)