Archive of Our Own

Listening to Gojo-senpai prattle on from the other side of the door is already putting Kento’s teeth on edge and he’s barely even said anything yet, just made overenthusiastic mentions of a ‘temporary transfer student’.

Infuriating; who had made that man a teacher of all things? 

Perhaps that’s unkind. Perhaps the students love him. Does it really matter either way? 

It’s odd taking what Kento knows of the teenager and trying to reshape him into this older, taller, masked-face version. He can’t imagine Gojo voluntarily going into teaching. What had changed? 

Unbidden a flash of his face—the one Kento doesn’t talk about, tries not to even think about anymore—crosses his mind, along with the familiar flash of pain. He squeezes the emotion down, lets it sit heavy beneath his heart, grief and regret are still strange new pieces to his soul but ones he suspects he’ll grow used to like old friends. It’s a wound that will never truly heal. 

But that can’t be the reason that Gojo got into teaching so it must have been something else. Maybe—

“Come in!” Gojo’s voice calls gleefully through the door and Kento straightens, deciding to let the thought go for now. 

Opening the door to the familiar first years classroom, Kento is met with three teens he doesn’t recognize. Though he wants to drag his feet, he also doesn’t want to give Gojo the pleasure as—even with his eyes covered—Kento can feel his eyes tracking his movements hungrily, ready for the first sign of discomfort to pounce. In this way, he isn’t that different from what Kento is used to. 

Coming up next to Gojo-senpai at the front, he tries to keep his face impassive. 

There’s a bored looking girl with short orange hair who barely spares him a glance. Next to her is a spiky black-haired boy, brow wrinkled with what might be recognition. Kento gets a single tingle of unease before a loud “Nanamin?!” breaks the silence. 

The nickname brings him up short and he turns slightly to take in the classroom's last occupant. He’s got fluffy pink hair, excitable brown eyes, and Kento registers him as cute. He’s leaning his entire upper body across the wood of his desk, as if getting closer to Kento might reveal his secrets. 

“Ding, ding, ding! Very good Yuuji! It is Nanami, isn’t that funny? He’ll be joining you all in classes until the curse wears off. Make sure to treat him well!” 

Immediately, Pink Hair, or Yuuji he guesses, scrambles to his feet. “Sit next to me, Nanamin!” Without waiting for a response he goes to the back where there’s, suspiciously, an extra desk and chair already waiting. Picking them up, he positions them next to his seat, closer than what is warranted. Kento bites down on a sigh and takes it. 

“Why are you attending classes, Nanamin?” Pink Hair asks, cocking his head. “How long will the curse affect you?” 

“Isn’t that the question,” Kento grumbles and the teen blinks at him before laughing. 

“Your voice is a lot squeakier, aw, that’s cute!” 

Kento bristles but before he can open his mouth to say something cutting, Gojo breaks in. 

“It’s not just a Nanami that looks like a baby, he actually is one. He doesn’t have any memories that aren’t from this time in his life. We figured it was best to put him in with the first years so he can attend missions with you all. We aren’t sure how long this will last but we can’t bench one of our best sorcerers just because he got tiny.” 

At that, the other teen’s head whips to stare at him. “Oh, so you don’t know me?” Kento thinks it’s safe to shake his head. 

Pink Hair’s face does something complicated, flipping through several emotions that Kento can’t parse before he lands on an easy-going smile. “Oh! My bad then. I’m Itadori Yuuji! That’s Kugisaki Nobara, and Fushiguro Megumi.” He points to each student in turn before facing him again. “We’ve worked together in the past, and I respect you a lot! If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask!” 

He’s not quite sure how to respond to that, but luckily is saved by Gojo clapping his hands and sprouting some bullshit about looking forward to seeing how they all work together. 

Kento settles into his chair, frown on his face. 

He doesn’t know these people and he doesn’t want to. His future self can deal with it. If Kento is rude enough that it deserves an apology, then his adult-self can do it. He doesn’t care about anyone here and he doesn’t expect to. 

At least, that’s what Kento thinks, sitting in that classroom as Gojo settles down into lessons. 

He’s wholly unprepared for the whirlwind that is Itadori Yuuji. 

During lunch, Itadori asks him to eat together. When Kento tries to refuse, Itadori acts like he hasn’t heard him, just links their arms and bodily drags him to the cafeteria. He’s surprisingly strong and fast. Feeling Itadori’s arm flex around his, Kento calculates that he wouldn’t be able to break his way free, so he doesn’t even try. 

Itadori plops him on a bench and tells him he’ll be right back. 

Kento waits in the silent room. Apparently none of the other students have chosen the cafeteria today, hardly an unusual occurrence. The oppressive quiet is one he’s gotten used to since—

“Here you go, Nanamin!” Itadori says, and Kento starts. He’d been woolgathering so hard he hadn’t felt or heard him approach. He hands him a sandwich and Kento stares. It’s his favorite. 

“Why do you call me that?” he asks as Itadori sits across from him, similar sandwich in hand. 

“Hm?” 

“The nickname.” 

Itadori’s face brightens with understanding. “Oh yeah! You didn’t want me to call you Sensei so I just landed on that.” 

“And I… don’t mind it?” 

He shrugs. “You asked me not to call you that once but you haven’t brought it up since so I figured it was okay.” 

Kento picks up a half of his sandwich. “That’s kind of shitty of you, isn’t it?” At Itadori’s perplexed expression, he explains, “Just forcing me to go along with your naming schemes, despite how I feel about it.” 

Itadori’s mouth drops open to argue before he closes it, brow wrinkled with thought. It takes him a few minutes to answer. While he thinks it over, Kento digs into his sandwich. 

(Which is perfect, annoyingly so. The school doesn’t have a cook so obviously Itadori made it himself.) 

“I think… that Nanamin likes to protest a lot, about things that may or may not actually annoy him. It’s easier for him if he says he doesn’t like something, even if he doesn’t super care, because it forces the other person to change their behavior. Like instead of Nanami having to accommodate you, you’re forced to accommodate him? Or else you’ll get this heavy stare of disapproval. Like this!” Itadori makes a flat, unimpressed face. 

He breaks immediately into a giggle before going on, “Obviously that doesn’t work on Gojo-sensei but I think with most people it’s pretty effective. I just don’t really care that much. As long as what I’m doing isn’t actually harming Nanamin or upsetting him then I think it’s okay. I trust Nanamin to tell me if he truly doesn’t like something! Plus it’s nice right?” Itadori takes a huge bite of his own sandwich, chewing loudly before he says, large bits of halfway chewed food visible, “Like we’re fwiends!” 

“Swallow your food,” Kento says with a grimace.

Things don’t improve much from there. 

Itadori is a shadow, dogging Kento’s steps all day. An excitable shadow that, if he had one, would be wagging his tail every time Kento looks his way. 

Kento’s not used to being the center of attention. Even—he feels the pain, the knife twisting in his heart, and breathes through it—Haibara was never this persistent. He’d hung around Kento, bringing smiles and laughter, but the moment that Kento got a little too pessimistic for the boy's tastes he’d wander off to spend time with Geto instead. 

It hadn’t bothered Kento, Haibara could do whatever he wanted. 

But a small part of Kento squirmed with jealousy all the same, seeing the way Haibara would smile and come to life under Geto’s attention. 

Here and now, it feels like Itadori has never met a brick wall he didn’t like because no matter how bland Kento is, how rude or curt, Itadori sticks by his side all day, every day, happy and laughing like whatever Kento says is hilarious . 

He doesn’t know if he wants to strangle Itadori or maybe… he doesn’t know. Not hug him, he’s not that into physical affection, but maybe pat him on the head. The teenager just screams dog-vibes. Kento’s willing to bet he would love a head pat. 

Sitting on Yuuji’s bed, idly flipping through a manga the teen had all but shoved into his hands, Kento wonders what kind of relationship they have normally. He doesn’t imagine his adult-self spending time in a teenager’s room, discussing manga, but maybe he doesn’t know himself as well as he thinks. 

“Say… Itadori-kun,” he says slowly, watching as the other teen perks up, “what do we normally do? Like when I’m not—like this.” He gestures at his body.

“Oh!” Itadori shuffles closer until their shoulders are touching. “Mostly just missions, you know. Sometimes I catch Nanamin at the school in between and we chat. We’ve eaten after missions a couple of times too.” 

That makes sense. Kento can’t imagine being a friend with a teenager as an adult. Still, Itadori shoots him a sunny smile. 

“That’s why this is so nice! We get to spend time together. What do you like to do, normally?” He leans into his space, body a warm spot pressed all against his side, his attention solely focused on Kento. 

Kento swallows, eyes widening. 

He’s not used to this kind of… closeness. Haibara was affectionate, yes, but even he’d known that Kento preferred personal space. He’d press in close, touch Kento’s shoulders, offer a brief hug, but he always stepped away. 

Itadori is not the same. The teen presses in close and stays there, their shoulders and hands knocking together as they walk, constantly reaching out to grab onto his arm, shoulder, waist. 

It should be overwhelming. 

Perhaps a few months ago it would have been. 

But Kento has spent several months now lonely and withdrawn. All his seniors have been dealing with their own grief, taking his announcement that he’s planning on leaving with barely any acknowledgement. There’s no room for sentimentality, not in the world they live in. 

So maybe Kento soaks in the attention. He doesn’t feel that bad about it. Itadori gives it freely and without asking for anything in return. And if a small part of him wonders what his adult-self would think about the situation, Kento pushes the thought away. It’s something for future-him to deal with, not himself as he is right now. 

And right now, he’s sitting cross-legged on Itadori’s bed, watching the teen blabber on about something. His face is animated, expressions flitting from excitement, joy, frustration, and a host of others as if to showcase the emotions of the story. 

What’s the story about? Kento couldn’t say. He’s more focused on watching the way Itadori’s hands gesture around, catching on the sunbeams that drift into the room, landing on the side of the teen’s face in a way that seems to bring out the curve of his jawline.

He finds him startlingly handsome like this. He’s been thinking that more and more frequently.

It’s been almost two weeks by this point. 

Itadori, Kento has found, is a lot like Haibara. Not completely, which is a relief, Kento isn’t sure he’d be able to deal with it if he was, but enough that it’s a comfort. Enough that it doesn’t feel as awkward to let Itadori into his life, broken into pieces as it is. He feels like he fits there perfectly, as if there was a gap that needed filling (he doesn’t think about what that gap may be from). 

Sometimes Haibara’s name is on the tip of his tongue when he wants to call out for Itadori, still not used to this replacement in Haibara’s place. He has to swallow it back and remind himself that it isn’t a replacement, there’s no replacing his first and best friend. 

Just something different, something new. 

Besides, it won’t last. That fact feels like a double-edged sword, a mixture of relief and heartbreak all rolled into one. 

They’ve gone on several missions and worked well together, seamlessly falling into a rhythm. It was easy to predict where the other would stand or where he would strike, to know exactly when they needed to protect each other and went they needed to get out of the way. 

It feels like a dance. Like something fun. 

Even though Kento knows he won’t go ‘back’ to the time he feels like he’s left, he’s still a little sad to miss out on this. It’s been nice, even the missions haven’t taken away from that. 

(Not at all how they’ve been feeling, lately. Before he got ‘sent’ to this time. Not like they have been after his death, each one feeling like it wrapped around his heart and ripped it out. Every time he was handed a mission he felt like retching and each time he slashed through a curse and ended up walking away it felt like a failure of a different kind. 

Why me, why did I survive, why, why, why. 

And the horrible piece of himself that was grateful that he lived, he hated that part most of all.)

Around Itadori though, everything was easier. It was like constantly being surrounded by beams of sunshine and he was a flower, turning his face to follow the light. His light never left him, never let him down. It was intoxicating. 

So is it really a surprise that when Itadori cuts himself off to stare, some unidentifiable expression on his face, it makes his stomach twist with something sweet. Itadori’s brown eyes soften and Kento can’t remember anyone looking at him like that before. 

Then Itadori leans in closer, eyes fluttering closed and Kento—

He knows where this is going and, butterflies swarming in his gut, he moves in to meet him. 

When their lips brush, it feels like something clicking into place. 

Is two weeks too short of a time to get a crush? Kento wonders as they tilt in opposite directions, lips sliding against each other, the feeling heady. It doesn’t matter, he decides, as they somehow end up even closer, hands pulling at the fabric of their shirts, until they’re pressed chest to chest, lips moving frantically now. 

Something feels like its building between them, energy sparking as their hands constantly dance between their bodies, leaving behind little jolts of pleasure. 

Someone gasps, Kento isn’t sure who, breaking the connection, but they pant in the small gap between their mouths. 

It’s dizzying, he’s never felt like this before, body shaking with the force of all these emotions, wanting more and yet being scared of it at the same time. He isn’t sure what happens now, feels like he’s balanced on the edge of a cliff, terrified that if he jumps nothing will catch him, but he wants to try anyway. 

Kento is still grappling with all of this when Itadori whispers, “Nanami,” against his mouth. He’s not thinking of much of anything, more of a knee jerk reaction when he dips his head towards Itadori’s swollen pink lips and whispers back, “Haibara.”

Then he’s being shoved back with a hard hand in the center of his chest. Gravity takes him and he flails his way off the bed, knocking his head against the floorboards hard, rattling his brain in his skull. 

Hissing, Kento pushes himself onto his knees, rubbing at his head. He glares up at Itadori who’s still sitting on the bed, looking down at him with a blank expression on his face. 

“What was that for?!” he demands, head aching already and pissed off for it. 

“Who’s Haibara?” Itadori asks, voice like ice, and it's like he’s been dunked into a frozen lake when he realizes what he’s done. 

“That’s—It’s—“ he’s stuttering, trying to figure out where to start, heart jackrabbiting in his chest now as he scrambles to figure out how much he wants to reveal, how much he could possibly admit to without breaking, but also desperately wanting to get Itadori to stop looking at him like that. 

Like a dark storm cloud drifting across his sunshine, blocking it from view. 

“No one,” Kento finally settles on, after a few failed attempts at speaking. “It was a mistake, I didn’t mean—“ 

“I see,” Itadori interrupts and it’s awful, his tone is emotionless and yet the brief look of anguish that flashes across his face is anything but. “I think you should leave.” 

“Wait, Itadori-kun, I can explain—“ 

Itadori shakes his head. “No… no I really think you should go, Nanami.” 

Nanami. 

The lack of a nickname is what drives the nail into the coffin. He knows he’s messed up but Kento isn’t quite sure how to go about repairing the damage. 

Slowly, he makes his way to his feet. He feels wobbly, like his legs can barely support him. He takes a few seconds before he attempts a step. 

It feels like it takes a long time to get to the door. 

When he puts his hand on the handle, Kento turns back. 

Itadori is watching him, and they stare at each other. 

He swallows, wets his lips, and tries one last time, “Itadori-kun, I—“ 

“I’ll see you later, Nanami,” Itadori says before he can finish. 

It sounds final. 

Kento sighs and leaves. 

It’s not an ideal situation, he thinks as he walks back to his own room, but he’ll figure out an explanation tonight and confront Itadori about it tomorrow; it’s probably best not to let it simmer for too long. 

He doesn’t get the chance. 

If Kento had thought being a sorcerer was shit before, it’s nothing compared to how he feels after he turns back abruptly that very night. 

It’s like everyone completely lost their minds without Kento around and the moment he’s normal again, he’s sent on back-to-back missions. There’s barely time to breathe let alone do anything that isn’t: work, eat, sleep. 

The fact that Itadori isn’t replying to his texts doesn’t improve the situation or his mood. 

Waking up back in his adult body with memories of his teenage-self’s past two weeks and realizing he’d somehow gotten a crush on Itadori wasn’t exactly great, but it was understandable. With how clearly—with the benefit of hindsight and experience—Itadori was into his younger self the kiss itself wasn’t surprising. 

But the worst part was twofold. 

The crush didn’t go away when he aged back to normal, which was unfortunate but vastly overshadowed by the fact that he managed to fuck it up so completely Kento still winced every time the memory resurfaced. 

Though he could feel how his teenage-self felt at the time—the loss of Haibara a much nearer ache than it had been in years—he also had the benefit of time numbing the pain into something more manageable. 

Still there, as it always would be, but distant enough he’d never make the mistake of saying the wrong name after kissing someone. 

Every time he thought about it, Kento wanted to bang his head against the nearest wall. 

By the time he manages to see Itadori in person, it’s been five days. Not terribly long in the grand scheme of things, they’ve definitely gone longer without seeing each other before, but given all that’s happened it’s much longer than Kento would have preferred. 

“Itadori-kun,” he greets as he walks up to the teen standing with his other two classmates, “I was hoping to have a word?” 

Itadori smiles, but it’s hollow, brittle at the corners, and Kento’s heart breaks at the sight. 

“Hi, Nanami! Ah, I’m a little busy right now, I was actually just gonna run to my room for something, I’ll catch you later yeah?” And before he even has a chance to reply Itadori takes off, a speck in the distance even as he raises his hand to the air in a failed gesture to get him to stop. 

Kugisaki blinks at Itadori’s back before turning to him. “Dude, what did you do?” 

“A little more politeness towards your elders, Kugisaki-chan, please,” Kento sighs as he pushes up his glasses. Well, that didn’t go as planned. 

“I think what she means is, what the fuck? Itadori never misses a chance to talk with you. What gives?” Fushiguro chimes in and Kento already feels a headache building in his temples. 

“Let Itadori-kun know I’d like to speak with him when he has time, if you would.” 

As he walks away, Kento can feel twin stares burning into his back but he keeps his spine straight, somehow. 

Days pass like this. 

Kento is about to tear out his own hair. Why is it so difficult to get ahold of a teenage boy?? 

Obviously the answer is that Itadori doesn’t want to be found but if Kento could just explain the situation then they wouldn’t have to do this runaround. 

Still, even if he’s frustrated, he doesn’t blame Itadori. He remembers being a teenager (the memory is startlingly fresh in fact). The situation likely took a heavy toll on the boy, and why wouldn’t it? 

Pushing aside his pride and general unease of an adult chasing after a child like this, Kento makes his way to the student dorms. 

He’s not proud of this, but he really doesn’t want to ruin anything with Itadori. He’s grown fond of the kid, regardless of his newfound crush. 

When he knocks on the door, there’s no answer. But he can feel Itadori’s cursed energy inside so he knows he’s there. 

“Itadori-kun? I’d like to talk.” A pause. There’s a spike in his energy but no movement, just silence. He sighs. “I don’t think it’s good for our working relationship to keep avoiding each other like this…” 

The statement sits between them, heavy and awkward, filled with guilt and manipulation, and he instantly feels horrible for it. Kento leans a fist against the door, bowing his head. “That’s… that’s not true. Or, it is, but that’s not the reason I want to talk to you. I want to apologize, Itadori-kun. I… understand if you’d rather not speak with me right now, and I won’t press. If ever you’re feeling up for it, I’ll always make myself available to you. And I hope… you won’t mind if I try like this, every now and then. I won’t try to guilt you anymore to answer me, that was unkind.” 

He knocks on the wood once, then steps away. “I’ll see you later, Itadori-kun.” Kento is just turning around on his heel to leave when the door opens. He stops, looks back over his shoulder to see Itadori standing there, looking firm. 

Wordlessly, the teen steps aside in a silent invitation and Kento’s heart lifts. He goes inside and looks around as Itadori closes the door behind him. 

It’s a mess and he winces internally. 

During his two-week stint as a teenager again, Itadori had frequently brought him to his room, claiming he had more stuff to do in there than Kento’s empty, temporary one. And while it hadn’t been immaculate, it had largely been clean. 

(It was useless to go to his apartment as a teenager, none of his clothes fit him and besides a few books he brought along, it seemed like a waste of a trip. Having to deal with Gojo-senpai grinning in the corner, peeking his big head into everything wore on his nerves. Itadori was the only reason he didn’t snap at the older man, the teen’s obvious excitement at being able to look over the small space was so great, he didn’t feel like bringing the mood down, much to Kento’s annoyance. 

Frustratingly, Gojo-senpai seemed know somehow, and he joined Itadori in going through Kento’s things, seemingly aware Kento wouldn’t say anything, both of them ooh -ing and ahh -ing over random items. The gesture would have earned a firm reprimand if it was just Gojo, but of course with Itadori doing it as well, he’d just swallowed it down.) 

The room is a pigsty, clothes strewn over the floor, all the surfaces covered with trash and other miscellaneous items. It smells like sweaty teenager, all the unwashed clothes adding to the general funk of the room. 

Itadori walks to the center, kicking random clothes to the sides before he crosses his arms. “You wanted to talk?” he says when Kento stands there in silence. 

“Do you want me to help you clean?” Kento asks, the words coming out without conscious thought. It sounds judgmental and Itadori’s flat expression morphs into anger. He tacks on before the teen can say anything, “I don’t mean that in a rude way, my tone is always like this you know that.” Itadori relaxes just a tad, but it’s enough as he continues, “I don’t mind helping out, I was practically living in this room before. It’s always easier with help, isn’t it?” 

Kento watches as Itadori visibly struggles with himself before he slouches, like his strings have been cut. “Yeah… yeah that would be nice, thanks, Nanamin.” 

The return of the nickname has something warm curling around his heart, almost like the beginnings of hope, but he forces his attention on their task. 

“Do you have trash bags? And where’s your hamper? Let’s start there.” 

It takes a few hours, mostly because of the laundry. Kento even helps Itadori fold, the familiar scent of the school’s student washing machines bringing back memories he’d largely forgotten about. 

They work largely in silence, only talking here and there when they need help with something. Slowly though, Itadori starts warming up, telling a small funny story about Gojo or one of his classmates, Kento humming along to show that he’s listening. 

Once the last load is in the wash the atmosphere grows awkward as they stand in Itadori’s newly cleaned room, the window open to let fresh air in. 

Finally, Itadori collapses on his bed, breaking the tension. The sheets are hospital folded at the corners at Kento’s insistence, the comforter laid out on top folded under the pillows, rather than put directly over them, the way Itadori tried to do at first. 

He star-fishes out on the bed before looking over at Kento. “You wanted to talk?” he asks again. 

Kento stares for a second, momentarily speechless at the sight of Itadori’s body stretched out, muscles moving beneath his thin t-shirt, before he manages to tear his eyes away, embarrassed by his momentary lapse. Itadori is effortlessly good-looking, it’s difficult to stay on task.

“Right.” Kento clears his throat. “I just wanted to apologize to you. Obviously, I didn’t mean to… say someone else’s name, that was disrespectful towards you. And I’m sorry.” 

Itadori had been staring at the ceiling but his eyes cut over to take in Kento, who is struggling not to fidget as he stands in the middle of the room, wondering what to do now, if Itadori would listen to the rest of what he’d wanted to say. Itadori sighs and pats the bed as he sits up. “Come here.” 

Gingerly, he sits on the edge of the mattress and Itadori moves to sit beside him, though now there’s a noticeable gap between them. Still, for a moment, it’s so nostalgic of simpler times—even if those times were less than a week ago—Kento has to pinch the bridge of his nose to fight back the well of tears. He’d foregone his glasses today, wanting to show how earnest he is, and he’s more emotional than he’d thought he’d be. 

The silence stretches and Kento realizes he needs to be the one to break it. Dropping his hand he turns to face Itadori better, who watches him closely. 

“Haibara was my best friend. When I was here, I’d just lost him. He died during a mission. I was still grappling with the loss.” Immediately, Itadori’s gaze softens but Kento goes on, knowing that Itadori is the type to forgive based on that alone and that’s not what he wants. “That’s not an excuse and I wasn’t even thinking of him when we—“ he swallows, mildly embarrassed. 

The corners of Itadori’s mouth quirk up in a small grin. “Kissed?” 

Kento nods. “Yes. It was just an accident, pure and simple, but I am sorry it happened.” 

Itadori hums, pulling his feet onto the bed and wrapping his arms around his legs, leaning his cheek on a knee. “Did you love him?” 

It’s a difficult question, not because it’s hard to answer but because it’s painful to think about. “Yes… but I’m not sure if anything would have ever come from it.” 

“Why not?” 

“He… preferred someone else. And despite the fact that he cared for me, I don’t think he always appreciated my attitude.” 

“I thought Nanamin was hard to get along with at first too. But I learned to like it.” 

Kento isn’t sure if that’s supposed to be a simple statement of fact or a dig at Haibara. Tactfully he decides not to comment and instead says, “I’m glad. I hope we can go back to the way things were before?” It ends in a question, the tilt hopeful. 

Itadori’s gaze gets a little distant, staring over Kento’s shoulder, and his heart drops. There’s a long pause before he says, tone thoughtful, “That was my first kiss. I wish it had gone a little better. Was it Nanamin’s too?”

He hesitates. 

“Yes and no?” he replies, thinking back. “Technically, I didn’t time travel, this body just got aged down. So while at the time, it was my first kiss, I also have memories from early second year of kissing Gojo-san for the first time.” 

Immediately, Itadori uncurls, leaning into Kento’s space with sudden breathless excitement. “What, really!? You kissed Gojo-sensei??” 

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say ‘we were both in mourning’ but realizes at the last second that he shouldn’t put Gojo’s pain out there so he pivots at the last second, “It’s a small school, there’s very little options. Nothing came of it.” 

“Ahhh, still! That’s cool, was it good?” 

He thinks about the two of them, drunk off their asses, pawing at each other, their mouths sticky and gross and so wet, every touch feeling like nails on a chalkboard. In a bit of a role reversal, when Gojo had tried to stick his hand up Kento’s shirt, he’d gotten shoved off the bed. 

They didn’t try it again. 

“Not really.” 

Itadori pouts. “And ours wasn’t any better! That’s so lame.” 

A thought comes to mind. Kento is tempted to ignore it. He SHOULD ignore it. That would be the adult thing to do. 

But for once he wants to live a little. 

Grabbing onto Itadori, he pulls the teen swiftly into his lap, wrapping his hands around his hip bones to keep him there. Itadori yelps, hands digging into his shoulders with surprise. His mouth drops open, eyes comedically wide. 

“Nanamin?” His voice cracks down the middle, making him sound very young. 

It should make Kento feel bad. 

It doesn’t.

“Want to have a do-over?”

“Of what?” Itadori asks, looking adorably confused and flustered, weight shifting over his lap like he’s not sure if he's allowed to sit or not. 

“Our kiss, so it’s better.”

Itadori’s hands tighten on his shoulders. His expression clears into something eager. “Really?” 

“Sure.” Kento sounds uncaring, even to his own ears. He tends to go very flat when he’s nervous. In the past it’s put people off (except Gojo, who doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinion but his own). He’s half expecting Itadori to question him more but he slams his ass down into Kento’s lap fully, hands curling on the nape of his neck. 

“Okay!” Itadori looks pleased as punch sitting there, happy and sated and they haven’t even done anything yet. The sight makes Kento chuckle again, happiness lighting over him. Itadori finds joy in the simplest of things, can get so bright at the drop of a hat. It’s good to be able to see that joy on him again, especially when it’s because of him. 

Kento trails a hand up Itadori’s back, guiding him down so their lips can meet. 

When they do, it’s all sugar dipped strawberries. They’re barely touching, testing the waters, but it’s so sweet he feels an ache in his teeth. Itadori moans into it, his breath hot against Kento’s face, and he takes the opportunity to slither his tongue inside. 

They didn’t get this far last time, and their kiss quickly grows heated as their tongues tangle together. 

It’s glorious, it’s delicious, it’s absolutely perfect. 

Kento can’t get enough. He never wants this to end. 

All too soon though, he needs to breathe and he moves to break away. Itadori follows his lips, whining in the back of his throat, and the gesture makes Kento’s gut twist with pleasure.

Greedily, his eyes roam over Itadori’s face, taking in his flushed skin, the way his pupils are dark and wide with desire. He tightens the hand on his hip. 

“How was that, Itadori-kun?” Kento asks with a grin. “Any better than last time?” 

“Call me Yuuji.” The teen grins coyly, all forbidden fruit, ripe for the taking. “But I’m not sure, I think I need another one to be sure.”

And when Yuuji pulls him into another kiss, Kento follows willingly, the two of them smiling into it.