Chapter Text
Takemichi Hanagaki has a bad habit of falling often. When he falls, he falls hard.
And because he falls more often than he should, he gets hurt. A lot.
Most of the time, they’re big blooming bruises of blue and purple. They ache when prodded and it hurts like fuck when he even so much as moves.
But that was okay, because in time it will heal.
Sometimes he gets cuts that leave him bleeding a little bit, only a little. A scratch, to be more specific. He presses his fingers and he picks at the skin until he feels the sting because according to Takemichi, they don’t hurt, they only itch.
But that was okay, because just like his bruises, they will heal.
And since Takemichi falls a lot, he’s learned enough to protect himself from the most horrible of injuries. Every single time he has fallen, he has gotten back up again. He has the scars to prove that he survived. He has no regrets.
Takemichi Hanagaki has a bad habit of falling in love too quickly, and when he falls in love, he falls in love hard.
Sunday
The first time he met Takashi Mitsuya, it was inside a closet.
There was a party, his friends and some other people were playing spin the bottle. The rules of the game were simple: you spin the bottle and make out in the closet with whomever the bottle points to.
It was a stupid game but Takemichi was stupid enough to play it. He strategically spun the bottle hoping that it would land on his best friend.
Instead, it pointed towards the stranger seated right next to said best friend.
He miscalculated.
Their eyes met and the boy gave a smile.
Fuck.
“Hi,” Takemichi greeted from their cramped position inside the closet, their chests were almost touching and their faces were close enough that he could count the eyelashes on the other guy.
The guy (—Mitsuya,
Takemichi heard his friends call him that—) had his hands neatly tucked away behind his back.
He was being respectful and polite. Takemichi appreciated the gesture. They just stood there in silence for what seemed to be 3 minutes when the people outside started making noises.
They could hear the people demanding that they lock lips. They stared at each other.
Kiss kiss kiss—the chant went on and on.
And so they did.
It started off slow, with the two of them not sure what to do at first. Takemichi was a bit shorter so he had to go on his tip-toes to reach Mitsuya's face. He didn't know where to put his hands so he settled for spreading them flat against the guy's chest.
Takemichi leaned in and pressed their lips together in a chaste kiss.
It was soft and tasted like convenience store lip balm.
Ears burning, Takemichi planted the heels of his feet back on the ground and he could see the outlines of Mitsuya's fluttering eyes, to his strong nose, and then back down to his mouth.
Takemichi slowly removed his hands from where they were resting on Mitsuya's chest, only for them to be placed right back by Mitsuya himself.
Forget his ears, Takemichi's entire face was on fire. The gesture completely caught him off guard.
He could feel Mitsuya's heart beating really fast under the fabric of his shirt.
Takemichi felt so embarrassed he could die, but he could not look away from Mitsuya's face. Because even in the dark, he could tell that the taller boy in front of him was as red as he was.
Mitsuya's hand, the one that was previously tucked behind his back, was now delicately placed on top of Takemichi's smaller ones. Firmly keeping them in place.
And their lips met a second time, with Mitsuya being the one to lean down and kiss him.
And a third time.
Mitsuya wrapped an arm around Takemichi's waist, pulling them closer together. And with nowhere else to place his hands without being crushed at an awkward angle, Takemichi looped his arms around Mitsuya's neck.
Mitsuya bumped their foreheads together before closing the distance once again.
The fourth time they kissed, it was not so innocent. You could say it was borderline pornographic.
Takemichi tried and failed to fight back a moan as Mitsuya ran his tongue down his throat the moment his lips parted.
He broke away albeit reluctantly, needing to breathe.
The air around the closet had gotten hot and Takemichi had started to get dizzy. Mitsuya was breathing hard in front of him, his lips swollen and his hair a mess from where Takemichi had carded his fingers through.
Takemichi wasn’t looking any better himself.
They were about to go for another round when a loud banging noise jarred both of them out of their frenzy.
“Time’s up, you horny bastards!” a muffled voice that sounded a lot like Baji hollered from outside, followed by a mixture of laughter.
The seven minutes were up.
They stared at each other, stunned. The spark of excitement was now gone and replaced with something awkward.
Something unbearable.
Downright suffocating.
They got out of the closet as quickly as they could.
Mitsuya excused himself, never looking Takemichi in the eye as he said it.
As Takemichi was making his way back to the circle of people still playing that stupid game, a warm hand found its way onto his shoulder and yanked him towards the empty kitchen.
It was his best friend. Chifuyu.
"Are you alright?" Chifuyu asked, worried.
"I'm okay, why wouldn't I be?"
"Because you look like you're seconds away from crying."
Takemichi rubbed his eyes. "Shut up."
"Oh no. Don't tell me you're falling for Mullet Guy from the closet?” Chifuyu asked, even though he already knew the answer.
Takemichi only gave him a strained smile, his fingers itching to pick at the hangnail on his thumb.
There was silence.
Takemichi started to pick at his thumb.
Chifuyu didn’t need to look.
"Stop that. Your thumbs will start bleeding again," he scolded, interlocking their fingers together.
Takemichi let out a shaky breath and leaned forward to rest his head on Chifuyu shoulder.
"Let's get drunk?" Chifuyu suggested.
"Yes, please."
He did not see Mitsuya for the rest of the night.