Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You’re more out of breath than you would like to admit when you make it to your classroom. You did pick a school in the mountains, but failed to account for walking uphill with all your stuff. Your first official day at Ouran University, and your first class is economics 101. It must be a required class in a few programs because there are so few empty chairs left.

You find two empty seats in the middle row… against the wall farthest away from the windows. You’re in the most picturesque school in the country, and you’ve got an upclose view of white painted brick. At least you’ve got an empty seat buffer between you and the girl on your left.

The prof hasn’t arrived yet by the time you’ve set up your laptop, unfortunately giving your brain time to take in all the voices and tapping and scratching and leg jiggling of the 80 some-odd students in the class with you. Is this even the right classroom? You feel your palms start to get sweaty as you fumble with your phone to check your schedule, which you’ve set as your home screen for this exact reason. HALL 308. You’re pretty sure you’re in the right room.
As you’ve got your eyes cast down, your shoulders tense as you feel a huge presence behind you and a shadow falls over your table.

It’s just a tall guy scooching into the empty chair.

A very tall guy.

You scramble to push all your stuff over as far right as possible so it doesn’t seem like you’re encroaching on his space at all. Your laptop is flush with the edge. You keep your eyes down. You really wish you still had the buffer seat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you take in dark hair and how straight his back is, despite the fact that he is leaning forward, his forearms resting on either side of his iPad. He takes up most of your periphery, you figure he must be well over 6 feet tall. You nervously load an empty document and are relieved when your prof strides in and begins fiddling with the projector. You sneak a real glance at the guy next to you and realize how unbothered he is. He’s gazing lazily at the front, listening to the professor’s introduction and summary of the syllabus, and despite his good posture you would believe he’d be the same way at home on the couch.

Your shoulders relax a little and you can focus on the list of books Professor Elliot is explaining that you’ll need to pick up from the bookstore. You make a note of them in bold at the top of the document. You’re excited to finally get to study topics according to your interests and get to learn about the real workings of the government. I mean, Economics 101 is hardly going to go as in-depth as you’d like, but it is a step closer.

The professor lets you all go after the reading the syllabus and telling you to read the first chapter before next class. You stay behind to talk to the professor about accommodations but can’t help but notice how fast the tall guy is up and out the classroom. He’s so fast?

Chapter Text

You read over the crumpled list of textbook titles on the blue post-it note in your hand, quadruple checking it against the pile of books in your arms. The 50 other people in front of you all have baskets, but you were already going through the stacks of books by the time you realized they had any here. You shift your weight and wish they had AC in here as you gingerly hold the books away from your body. You forgot to put on your knee braces, but the trek back to your dorm was downhill at least. Your feet are killing you. You shift your weight to your other hip again, and risk putting some of the books on a pallet with books to your left. Bad idea, the pile slides off and books are toppled to the floor.

You are flooded with adrenaline and if you hadn’t been stuck between people and books you would have bolted. You go to bend down and disturb some books behind you with your hip. They should have a bigger room for the bookstore, apparently this line is not designed for real people to use. You feel your eyes threaten to overflow. God, not here.

Slender hands gather the books you’ve dropped into a neat pile, smoothing out some bumped corners. The person behind you picks them up for you, and you look up to find dark eyes lazily looking back. You instantly search them for judgement or laughter, but don’t find them. In fact, you can’t tell what he’s thinking at all, but that’s better. He holds out the books to you for a moment, but seems to think better of it and tucks them under his left arm. There’s a basket in his right hand, full of his own books. You gather that he has decided you aren’t allowed to hold your own books for the safety of everyone present and are mortified, but get out a small “thank you.”

He nods to you, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge you at all. You appreciate that, because otherwise you would feel obligated to come up with something to say. You stand sideways, not looking at him but also not turning your back on him, in silence as you register your heart beat slow down and reassure yourself that no one is even giving you a second thought. You watch them all stressfully go back and forth between shelves and lists, wandering all over the small store. You are not the only one feeling like an idiot today.

The line is moving forward and there are only about 10 people in front of you now. You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet, but you do feel reassured by the presence of the unflappable man behind you. You’ve been in line for quite some time now, but the tall guy doesn’t show a single sign of impatience. He hasn’t tried to talk to you either. His arms aren’t even shaking from the weight of the textbooks. He is just still and patient.

“Did you get military training in high school? I’ve never seen anyone with such great posture,” you try and joke.

An even “Yes.” Is all you get in response, but betrays a deep voice.

“Ah.” You shut your mouth. You eye the man with a carefully neutral expression. He must be stronger than he looks.

“Next in line” the woman at the “cash” with the square app on an iPhone calls.
You clock that means you and swing back around to face the man, going to take the books back from him.

“I’ll walk you up.” He says.

“ I can carry them” you say, embarrassed.

“I know you can.” Is all he says.

You go up to the front and pay for your books, and then stand off to the side as he pays for his. You’re not entirely sure what happens now, but feel it would be rude to just abandon him. You walk to the exit together. You really don’t want to take up any more of his time, so once you reach the door you tell him, “I’ve got it from here.” He just looks at you. “And thank you.” You tack on.

His expression doesn’t change, but you can’t help but feel like he is skeptical about your ability to hold on to these books.

“No really, I’m staying in the dorms just down there.” You hold out your hands, but stop short of taking them out of his.

He nods, and places the books gently in your outstretched arms. Once you’ve got grip on them, he walks on ahead.

You take it slow back to your room, and can’t help but stare at the back of his head the whole time.

Chapter Text

You'd read late into the night last night, trying to absorb everything. You sat in the same spot as last class even if you hated it because you didnt have the mental capacity to puzzle out another spot. It was yours now, for better or worse. The same girl was sitting one spot over to the left. You're a bit more relaxed so you note her sleek high pony and pink manicured nails. She has anime stickers on her laptop.

She looks from your textbook to you and says, “Did you actually do the reading?”

You're taken aback at having to speak so early in the morning. “Uh, yeah. You?”

She flops her head back, “No, not for this class. It’s just so hard to work up the motivation to read about graphs and numbers. Like, I get it. People use money to pay for stuff. Some people have a lot and some have none. It can't be” she indicates the size of the textbook “that serious.”

You feel an uncomfortable knot in your stomach. “Well…”

“Alllright class, quiet down.” The professor was starting the lecture but the seat next to you was still empty. You swivel your head around and catch sight of tall guy at the very back, looking towards the front wit the same expression as always.

You snap your head back to the front.

You tell yourself you don't really care where he sits, even if you are all too aware of the empty space. Just like you are all too aware of anime girl's nails clacking, and the person behind you sniffling. You try to focus on the lecture, nervous about the idea of being called upon out of the blue.

“Does anyone know who spread the idea of capitalism?” Professor Elliott addresses the class expectantly.

There's the sound of paper shuffling, A few students pretending to search through their books for the answer.

The prof's face scrunches in disappointment. “This bodes well. Did anyone do the reading I assigned?”

“Adam Smith” you answer the first question.

“Yes, exactly…”

“y/n”

“Very good, y/n."

Someone speaks up, “Of course his name was Adam Smith, couldn't come up with a better name for the god's gift to banks. We would have been better off if he'd kept his ideas to himself.” There's some quiet laughter from around the room.

You speak up again, trying to clear things up. “You see, I read Smith's own paper and his biggest issue was actually being too naive-”

“Okay,” your professor cuts in, “we're getting a little off track.”

You're taken aback a little. “ I understand our reading was taken from a secondary source but I think it is worth it to talk about the primary source. How else are we to get the full picture. It's easy to vilify the guy that started capitalism but intention-”

“y/n I appreciate your enthusiasm for the subject, but this is an introductory course and that book is [a bajillion] pages long. Keep that in mind for 102.

Capitalism is…”

You keep your mouth shut for the rest of the class, and find the plastic of your chair harder than usual. Seems like you are unlikely to get the lively discussion you wanted from university out of this class.

You avoid looking at the girl next to you. You end up following the white grout with your eyes. Maybe if I just do the readings and the essays, I can skip classes altogether…

Chapter Text

And yet, once again you end up standing outside 308. You press against your chest as if to smother your traitorous heart. It’s beating so fast it threatens to take your legs with it. You make your feet carry you through the doorway.

You head to your spot by the wall. You don’t allow yourself to show any hesitation when you realize that tall guy is sitting in the spot next to yours. You pull out your chair and get set up.

You feel his eyes slide over to you when you sit down. “Hi,” you offer.

”Hi,” he replies in an emotionless tone of voice. You don’t really know what to make of him. If it weren’t for his help at the bookstore, you might think he doesn’t care for you. And he is sitting next to you again. Maybe he’s just not an expressive guy.

“Hi!” The girl on the other side of him perks up. “You finally accept this is the superior place to sit?” She says jokingly.

“Yes.” He responds in the same even tone.

She grins like he said something funny anyway. “The glare from the window makes it impossible to see your screen, that’s why us wall folks are the smarter ones! My name is Tasha, what’s yours?”

Is she… interested in him? You cough and then try to look like you weren’t just eavesdropping and start typing something random on your laptop.

There’s a pause, but he does answer, “Morinozuka.”

”Ah! Morino…zuka? I’m glad I’ve got someone to share this class with, it seems like it’s going to be a tough one.

He doesn’t answer, but it’s not clear whether that’s because he doesn’t want to or because the prof starts speaking. He pulls out a water bottle and sets it on the desk before crossing his arms and listening to the lecture. He doesn’t type any notes, nor does he even turn it on. You’re not sure if he’s going to be any help to Tasha.

Chapter Text

It’s still early fall, but at this altitude the air is still brisk. You've made it through your first two weeks, but somehow you feel like you're already behind. It's Saturday and you're heading to grab the shuttle into town. As beautiful as campus is, you would like a little change of scenery. You even dressed up for the day, to make it feel special. There wasn't a whole lot in the small town at the base of the mountain, but there was a cafe where you could sit and do a little writing and a grocery store where you could pick up some supplies.

The problem is, you don't actually know where the shuttle stops to pick students up. You could ask someone but… you couldn't ask someone.

Currently, you're wandering around the different roads between the buildings, hoping to see the bus or even a sign and also hoping not to seem like that's what you're doing. Everyone else walks with a pace and confidence that shows they know where they’re going.

“Sure thing, professor.” an almost familiar deep voice coming from an open doorway stops your feet. You can't help but look over. His face is obscured behind a three-high pile of boxes as he follows a short woman with a messy up-do of grey hair from her car and into the building. He seems to have taken on the role of designated thing-carrier on campus. You look away before someone could accuse you of seeing how nice his shoulders look under strain.

You hear an engine and do a little jog just to see the bus pull away from the curb and leave. You scrunch up your face and look to the piercing blue sky for strength. The void is only slightly comforting.

You trudge the rest of the way to what you now know is a bus stop. There's a bench and a teensy weensy sign. You plop yourself down with a huff. There’s no sign of when the next bus is supposed to come, so you resign yourself to waiting.

You watch a squirrel scratch around for dropped acorns and feel the sharp but gentle breeze on your face. The distant laughter of some students playing frisbee in the quad drifts over to you.

Morinozuka huh? At least you have a name for tall guy now. And theoretically he might know your name too, since the prof did say it in front of the class. You figured that made you acquaintances now? You hadn’t been brave enough to speak to anyone in your other classes. You suddenly felt the ache of loneliness. Your closest thing to a friend was a man who had spoken at most ten words to you. Your family was a six hour flight from here, and you wouldn’t see them for another three months. You could call them, but you had no one to take the bus with or spend your day off with.

You tuck your arms into yourself a little tighter, swearing that the sky is getting darker already. You half heartedly scroll through apps on your phone, but you can’t focus on anything. But you can’t dredge up the energy to get up either. What would you do? Go back to your room and scroll some more? So you sit. And you wait.

A fat drop falls square on the top of your head. You brush at the top of your head when another falls on the bench beside you, leaving a dark circle on the wood. Several more hit the pavement and you are made dreadfully aware that the sky is raining like it means it. You should move. You feel your clothes dampen and weigh heavier on your skin. You think briefly about the books in your bag. But the most you can do is watch the world get dark and wet around you.

But suddenly, he’s there. He’s got a small black umbrella and he’s holding it over you. You wipe rain drops off your glasses to see him more clearly. His black hair is dripping and his mouth is set in a hard line.

Chapter Text

“Morinozuka!” You squeak in shock.

“Come” he says and hands you the umbrella.

He walks rigidly towards one of the dorm buildings nearby. You're jolted out of inaction and jump up, grabbing your sopping things and hurrying after him.

He holds the glass door open for you. The small entryway before the next glass door is really quite small. You close the umbrella and wedge yourself in as much as possible as he closes the door and joins you in the space to input the code. His back is turned to you but he's so close. His wet white tee clings to him and gives you a good idea of just how toned his muscles are. You could lean forward just a bit and rest your forehead against him… but you shiver and you don't even dare breath until you hear the buzz of the door unlocking. You let him move into the building before following him.

He leads you confidently down the hallway to a door. This is where he faces you, but doesn't actually look at you. He puts a hand on the back of his neck, and looks a bit awkward truth be told. You've been trying so hard to be normal that you haven't really registered until now that he has brought you to what appears to be his dorm room.

“This is my room, but just to get you dried off.” He gets out more words in a row than you have ever heard him say.

You hold up your hands and say “of course!” to eagerly reassure him that you wouldn't have ever made any kind of assumption about a man bringing you to his room suddenly.

He clenches his jaw but pushes open the door for you. You smile, more reassuring, and walk in. He's left his room pretty bare. the grey walls have nothing hanging on them. His books and papers are piled neatly on the little desk, along with a few framed pictures. His bed is made but on it is a big pink stuffed rabbit that catches your eye.

He follows your gaze and his expressions softens. You've hardly ever seen any kind of expression on his face, and you itch to know what caused it.

“That's a very cute bunny.” You prompt. Because god forbid you ever ask a question. You're just kind of hoping he runs with it.

“It was entrusted to me to protect.”

Your heart warms at seeing him take this assignment so seriously.

“Looks to me like you've done a fine job of that so far.” You tell him kindly.

In the same even tone, and yet softly it's almost a whisper, he admits “my best friend didn't want me to leave for university all alone.”

He looks to you, taking in your state once again. He grabs you a towel from his well-organized closet before grabbing one for himself. You wipe your face and pat down your clothes as he uses the towel to dry his hair. With his arms raised, a sliver of his tan skin of his midriff is revealed.

You've never looked away so fast in your life. You blush and immediately go to check on whatever damage was done to the contents of your bag. Luckily it is not too bad, just some papers you'll have to lay flat when you get back to your dorm.

You want to stay and talk more, but the only place to sit is the stool at the desk or the bed and neither seems right. His room is just so clean! You don't want to mess anything up. You start to feel lightheaded as the knot in your stomach gets tighter.

You don't even look at him as you stuff your bag closed once more and throw out “thank you so much for getting me out of the rain, but I really must go.” You bolt out the door, but he grabs your shoulder.

“Take this, it's still raining.” He says and pushes the umbrella back into your hand.

You nod, your throat feeling too tight to speak, and then hurry down the hall and out the doors. You can't bear to look back and check if his eyes follow you out.

Chapter Text

You sit in your room, having changed into dry pajamas, and feel like an absolute loser. I really just ran out of there, huh?
You make yourself a cup of tea just to have something to do with your hands, and then hug your pillow to your chest.
I have got to stop with the self-sabotage.

In the safety of your own room, you let your brain linger on him.

You pick up your phone and go to text your best friend from home. You wince a little as you notice you have 20 missed messages. Not really your fault though, they are all from today. You laugh to yourself as you read through them, and feel a little lighter already. You take the time to respond before slipping in that you met someone in your economics class so nonchalantly.

You get an answer Immediately.

“You're gone two weeks and already have a bf?? 😵🥳”

You text back “nooo nothing like that. I'm not even sure he's a friend.”

“i’ll be the judge of that. Tell me everything.”

“we haven’t spoken much. But he's still been…nice? He carried my books at the bookstore and he brought me an umbrella in the rain.”

“👀👀👀”

“Do you think I give off such toddler vibes that this tall man has taken it upon himself to help me?”

“ I mean you do have some baby deer vibes for sure for sure, but I don’t imagine he sees you as a literal child.”

You chew on your nails and consider this. He was helping that professor as well, so maybe it's just who he is.

You get another message.
“Hear me out, maybe he, idk, likes you?”

You scoff

“This is how normal people flirt y/n”

“Can't be. He didn't give off any vibes, he didn't even smile at me.”

“Hmm. And how do you feel?”

You think about how comfortable he Is to be around, and the relief of looking up into his face in the rain.

“I'd like to be friends I think.”

“really? Because I think you have a crush. The only thing you've told me about this school that you moved all the way across the country for is this bookstore guy.”

You… Have been thinking about him an awful lot.

“...maybe”

“Yeah, now go ask him a question.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ask him a question…

You weren’t very good at that. You sat rigid as a board at your spot in economics class. You didn't even do the reading.

He hadn’t shown up yet. Tasha hadn’t either. Just you, and your empty questionless brain.

How was your day? Pathetic.

What do you think of this class? Idiot, who would want to answer that. (And you were a little scared he would say boring… for different reasons than your own.)

…

You literally couldn't come up with something a normal person would ask.

You hear Tasha before she walks in, and she is followed by Morinozuka.

“My southasian History Prof totally has it out for me though! Like,...”

she’s basically walking backwards as she looks up at him. Fortunately (Or unfortunately?) He's looking at her with the same expression that he wears around you. They take a seat beside you and are shushed by Professor Elliot.

She whispers to him anyway, “hey, what are you doing after class?”

Look at that, a normal person question.

“Nothing.” He says, looking straight ahead clearly trying to focus on the lecture. Even you can tell that's a shut down.

Okayyyyy, not big on questions this man. Phew! Easy, no problem. You don't have to ask him one if he doesn't like them.

You feel your best friend sigh, like a cursed inner voice. You take a deep breath yourself.

The whole class you can’t settle. You even see his eyes slide to you once. And also the person sitting behind you cough pointedly.

How do adults make friends? Are you an adult, just cause you're in first year uni?

“So, I'll assign presentation dates based on teams. I want you to pick one of the economic theories we have discussed in class so far and put together a powerpoint with certain criteria posted online. You will need a partner for this project.

Tasha immediately tosses her ponytail over her shoulder as she turns to him, “So-”

But you're quicker “Do you want to be partners?”

Boom, how’s that for a question?

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

You had invited him to meet you in conference room C at the library at 5:00 pm. It was the one with the biggest whiteboards, which is why you favoured it. It was 5:05 and you had your markers out, a blank powerpoint open and some loose notepaper.

You scraped your chair back and got up to write a list of the acceptable economic concepts on the board. The two longest walls of the room were glass, so you kept an eye out for tall guys with a shock of dark hair. With sharp, square jaws. And pretty eyes.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the door does open.

Silent as a cat, he slides into a seat at the table.

“Morinozuka!” You say with what you hope is a normal level of excitement.

He looks at you, before taking out all his stuff.

“Call me Mori.”

You bite back a smile. Fidgeting, you gesture at the list, “well, these are our options to pick from. Any you find particularly interesting?” You let your hand drop and clutch your other one nervously. You try to look perky and ignore your heart that is pounding for some reason.

“Mm. GDP?” he mumbles.

“Yeah, sure! We can go with that!” You agree enthusiastically.

More normal.

You turn and write GDP in big on top of the next whiteboard and “Gross Domestic Product” in smaller underneath.

“So, this is only a 2 minute presentation.” you begin to strategize. “So he probably doesn't want anything terribly in-depth. Just enough to remind the students who weren't paying much attention the first time around.”

He doesn't say anything but he opens up a blank powerpoint.

“Great! Yes!” You approve. “The first slide should probably be the definition.”

You look it up on your phone. “The oxford dictionary defines GDP as ‘ the total market value of all final goods and services produced within a country in a given period of time (usually a calendar year). ‘“

You find it satisfying to hear him typing away as you speak. It's proof that he does listen.

“There's GDP and GDP per capita. And then of course Real GDP…”

The whiteboards and one of the glass panes are covered in notes after a while.

“You know, GDP actually isn't a good way of gauging the productivity of a country.” You digress a little. “It only accounts for the money made. It doesn't account for the laundry a mom does for her kids, or the sweater a woman knits for her neighbour, or the shed a groups of neighbours helps to put up. Just the dry cleaner or the shop or the construction worker who sells their labour. Money shouldn’t determine the health of a country.”

Mori's eyebrows crinkle as he considers this. “But when considering the world stage, doesn't the money a country generates show it's power and prosperity?” he asks calmly, surprising you.

“Depends on what is being valued.” You answer excitedly, “ Bhutan considers it's Gross National Happiness. This takes into account ecological stability, equitable socio-economic development, preservation and celebration of culture, and even fair governance. Countries aren't businesses. They are homes.” You catch yourself going off the rails a little bit. “Ah, sorry. I tend to infodump. Not really relevant to the project though is it.

“That's alright.” He says cooly. It truly seems like he means it, too. You grin at him as you feel warmth spread in your chest.

It's pitch black out by the time you finish up, and the library is nearly empty save for a few stragglers who look like they intend to be there all night. Mori scrounges up some window cleaner and wipes from somewhere. You expected him to leave them on the table so you could clean up your handwriting that was all over the room, which you considered a kind gesture already. But he went straight to work helping you carefully wipe the glass and the whiteboards.

In the low light, the glass is almost invisible. It looks like he's taking your words out of thin air. His hair falls over his face a little as he works on a particularly tough spot. He seems perfectly calm – a feeling you're not sure you'd ever experienced in your whole life. Somewhere deep down, a small voice suggests that maybe you don't need to assume he's annoyed with you. He just seems so… solid. It must be nice.

The two of you leave the room tidier than you found it, and step out into the fresh night air. It's still humid and it smells earthy, and all around you are the sounds of little creatures making their homes under the leaves. He walks beside you in comfortable silence, also aware of every sound and movement of the wildlife.

“Why did you come to this school,” You ask softly, “away from your best friend?”

“This place has the best wildlife rehabilitation program.” He says matter-of-factly, but his eyes are alive as he gazes out into the trees.

“Is that what you're studying?” you ask, trying to piece together where economics works into all that.

“No.” he says in a way that squeezes your heart. “I'm studying Theory and Philosophy of Law.”

Your eyes light up, “me too! How come we aren't in more classes together?”

“My family handpicked most of my professors.” He says, making you wonder exactly what kind of family this guy comes from.

Before you know it, you're at the front door to your building. You fumble a little, trying to think of what you're supposed to do next, but you feel the soft weight of his hand on your head. “See you in class.” He says before returning both hands to his pockets and walking off in the direction of his dorm. You have to take a few deep breaths before you can put in your code right.

Chapter Text

It's six weeks into the semester before you encounter your worst enemy: math. You could talk about theory until every member of your family was bored to tears, but Prof. Elliot wanted you to submit some practical exercizes and you felt like he had asked you to race motorbikes without your glasses on. You had no idea where the fuck you were supposed to go. Or if that 24 was really a 42.

Your presentation had gone over well. You did all the talking (and if we're being honest, you re-did the powerpoint as well because you couldn't bear to present if It it wasn't funny). You even got to see Mori smile with you after you earned a “good job” from the prof who still did look a little pained that you had taken twice the allotted time. It was a small smile, just a slight curve of the lips really, but it was enough to brand your eyeballs and see it every time you close your eyes.

Somewhere deep down, you desperately wanted to make him laugh.

You can't seem to not notice him around campus. You swear to god you are trying to focus on your studies, but then there he is feeding some seed to birds who have yet to fly south, or holding the door for other students, or just sitting and reading on the bus stop bench.

You have since learned that the shuttle bus to town comes only once a day, so it is worth setting aside a good block of time in advance so you don't miss it. You've got your sturdy green messenger bag and a cute pair of walking shoes and are also waiting for the bus a respectful distance away.

He seems fully absorbed by his book, giving you ample time to sneakily watch him. He sits perfectly still, only flicking his fingers to turn the page every so often. His shoulders seem ever so tense, but that could be on account of his good posture. The planes of his face are stunning in the bright sunlight, casting sharp shadows along his nose and throat.

You felt a strike of preemptive heartache about the fleetingness of this moment. You would never be here again, softly gazing at this slant of light, apart but close. Your fingers curled with want to take out your notebook and draw it, but you knew that would make it weird.

Again, you couldn't help but think about how far you were from everything you'd ever known. You were supposed to grow into your own person here, but weren't entirely sure who that person was supposed to be. If you go for long enough without really being seen, it is hard not to feel more and more like a ghost.

The bus engine sounds closeby and he closes his book and catches sight of you. He doesn't seem particularly surprised to see you, but his gaze lingers on yours for a moment. He stands up to his full imposing stature, and comes to stand next to you as the bus pulls up. He waits for you to get on before boarding himself.

You're curious to see if standing next to you meant that you were taking this little trip together. You slide into a free booth all the way to the window and park your bag on your lap, leaving the aisle seat free by way of invitation while feigning nonchalance by looking out the window. He takes the seat, also resting his bag on his lap. You try to ignore just how aware you are of his shoulder against yours, In case he notices and moves.

Chapter Text

You're going into town to claim a spot in the café and to stay until your stupid homework was done. Enough caffeine and lack of distractions might kickstart your brain into understanding formulas.

You wondered where Mori was off to, but neither of you had said anything yet and it was intimidating to break the silence. It was also nice to just have someone there, without the pressure of making conversation.

It was a truly beautiful day. The sun shone through what few red and brown leaves were left on the trees, dappling the ground. You were grateful for your jacket, however.

“Why're you going into town?” His deep voice said from your side.

You smiled, and then grimaced thinking about what awaited you. “The Econ Assignment.” You said. “I'm horribly terrible at math.”

He nodded his head in understanding. After a moment's pause he asks, “Would you like some… help?”

You turn your head to look at him a little too suddenly. “Have you done it already??”

He can't seem to look you in the eyes, but nods again. You consider this. Having him there might not help with your focus, But if he really does know how to do it then it would be easier than simply willing yourself into an epiphany.

You also look down, sheepish, “thanks, that would be nice.”

“I owe you.” is all he says.

The bus pulls to a stop. You knew the stop was coming but still weren’t quite prepared so you throw you scarf over your arm, hook your tote on your elbow, hold you phone, try and shrug your jacket to fit right on your shoulders and stumble after him off the bus. The door jerks a little right as you're stepping off, bumping your elbow and tossing your phone out of your treacherously damp fingers. You can't flail and risk dropping everything else, but faster than a heartbeat he’s caught your phone in his left hand and cupped his right under the bend in your arm to brace you, and your heart is beating really fast.

He doesn't look you in the face as he carefully guides you down off the last step, which is good because you may be looking a little pink. You can almost feel the bus driver's eyes roll as he closes the door behind you and pulls away. You don't dare pull away as Mori gently lifts your arm to check you over, brushes you off a little and only then looks you in the eye as he steps back and holds out your phone. You'd like to think you're getting better at reading his expressions, but what you’re getting from his is…puzzled? How are you supposed to interpret that? You take your phone back, careful not to touch his fingers in case he might think that too presumptuous. He turns to walk on ahead, but you can't help but feel a little like a baby deer that he's taken responsibility for.

You scoot along to the café. There's only one so you don't need to direct him. He holds the door open and you happily nab the booth in the back corner. You know this will take a while. You shuck off your stuff and then head to the counter.

You order a matcha latte and then look up at him standing behind you. “What would you like? You ask him. He looks at the menu a little uncertain, but says “I'll uh, also have the matcha latte.” And then adds to the barista, “oat milk, please.”

“That will be $12.75” she says.

“You don't-” he starts, but you whip out your card and pay for it faster than he can stop you. You smile smugly at him even if he looks a little uncomfortable, because you don’t have to be the one taken care of all the time, you can be the one doing the taking care too. Yes.

Chapter Text

He finished the last of his tea calmly as a swarm of bees warred in your head. There weren't even numbers on the page any more that you could make out, and you were only on the second question.

He looks at you and sighs, before nodding to the barista and physically lifting you up out of your chair. He gently pushes you out of the shop to a free bench on the patio. Once you're settled he sits down beside you.

“Breathe.” he says not unkindly.

You want to put your head in your hands and maybe curl up in a ball under the bench, but you hold his eyes and breathe in for four, hold for four, and loose your breath for four. You feel janky, like a robot, but you notice his chest rise in time with the count, and just focus on copying him. After a few breaths, your heartbeat slows, a few more and you let your muscles relax, and a few more still and you can identify what you feared was disappointment was actually concern on his part. He was worried for you. That realization almost sets you off again, but you mentally tackle the sense of guilt to the ground and bury it roughly.

He continues to breathe slowly, not moving an inch, even though you're sure he's noticed your changed state. He waits for you to take all the time you need. Now that you can sense things beyond a fog and hear things that aren't the rush of blood in your ears, you feel your cheeks heat under the intensity of his gaze. You clear your throat and look out at the blue sky and the formation of birds heading South. Their noisy calls to one another reach you, and the cold air makes the skin on your hands prickle.

“I don't know if I can do this assignment.” you admit.

“You can do more than you think.” He states.

You stick your hands in your pockets. “There are some things my brain can't do.”

“This is not one of them.” He says kindly.

He puts his hands on his things and pushes himself up silently. He starts to walk back indoors. You really don't want to go back to work, so you root yourself there. Mori turns back to you and holds out his hand. You are confused, and look around for what he could be possibly asking for.

“Your…hand.” He mumbles.

“Oh.” You exhale and put your hand in his. Mori's warm fingers wrap around yours and then he's pulling you upright. You stand shakily, and feel a tug in your chest when he lets go.

He takes you back up to the counter and you order a hot chocolate this time, both because you shouldn't have more caffeine and for comfort. He orders another matcha oat latte and pays before you can object. You sullenly walk back to your booth, and steel yourself with your fingers wrapped around your warm mug.

He rifles through his bag, and pulls out his assignment.

“You're going to let me copy?” You asked

“No,” he snorts, “ I'm going to show you exactly how I did it so you can follow without the stress of having to figure it out for yourself right now.”

The first thing you notice when he slides it across to you is how neat his handwriting is. It looks as if it could have been printed, his numbers so even and clear.

Mori walks you through line by line, telling you his reasoning behind each step. When you don't understand how he got a certain number, he patiently takes it from the top. You maybe spent half an hour going over the second question alone, and the third, but by the fourth you’re starting to pick up on the patterns. The numbers themselves are still hard to stick in your head, but the logic does show itself. He doesn’t show you his answer for the last question.

The both of you take a second to stretch your poor bones before coming face to face with your own papers.

You pick up your pencil, but he puts his hand on yours to stop you.

“Tell me how you would solve this.” He says.

“What-”

“Read the question, and tell me out loud what you would do.”

You pick up the paper with your other hand and hold it closer to your face, concentrating hard so as not to miss anything. You can't do a good job of it while his hand still rests on yours, so you put the pencil down and slip out of his grip. You do remember what he had written mostly, but you do try to approach it on your own.

“Okay, well, first I would…” you begin.

You hack your way through it like through a jungle, and he gently guides you back on path if you misstep. It feels more comfortable and familiar by the time you do pick up your pencil. And even though you have to check your numbers three times after every calculation, you steadily make your way through. When you near the end, you feel sort of elated – you never expected to get this far.

And then you hit the last question. The one he didn't go over with you. The jaguar waiting behind the leaves. You look up and Mori is waiting for you to break it down like the others, like he doesn't see the teeth. The numbers blur and shift under your very eyes.

“Hey,” he says “ignore the numbers for now, look at the question. What are they asking?”

You let your brain skip the numbers and focus on the words. It's an awful lot like the last question, just on a bigger scale. You reach into your pencil case, and carefully highlight all the numbers in different colours to set them apart. With each step, you use those same colours to differentiate, making the solution look less like a wall of text and more like a lego one.
When you get to the end, you cautiously slide it over to him to check. He scans through it, nods and slides it back. Your face splits into a grin so wide it hurts. You grab his hand and shake it excitedly, “I did it!!”

He takes your breath away as he grins right back at you, revealing a small dimple on his left cheek.

Chapter Text

You groan after you check the time outside the café. You'd missed the bus back to campus. There wasn't Uber or anything out here, so that left… walking. You peer up in the direction you knew campus to be, tracing the roads in your mind and wincing. You look at Mori guiltily, since it was your fault he was also stuck. But he seems unperturbed as always; just grips his bag with one hand and sets off in the right direction. You hoist up your own bag and try to keep pace.

The wind has picked up, tossing leaves into the road like confetti. The only colours left in the season were deep browns, but the effect was still enchanting. The edges of the sky were darkening, but not enough for the street lights to come on. The way back to campus isn't particularly complex, but it was uphill. You slap the side of your right knee like a horse's flank, praying they hold out.

Mori may have been comfortable walking in silence, But you weren't. Quiet too long and you started to think about how much longer this was going to be.

“Thanks for helping me out, I definitely owe you one.” you say while trying to hide how difficult breathing is.

“Don't mention it.” He says, and adds after a heartbeat “if anything we're even.”

You shoot him a look, but he doesn't meet your eyes. He does explain further, though.

“The project. You did most of it.”

A pang of misplaced guilt hits your stomach. “I- look I'm sorry I redid your powerpoint, It’s just-

“No,” he cuts in, “It's not that. It's fine.”

He's not very forthcoming with any information at all. You study his lean shape, his shoulders a little hunched as he looks down at the ground while he walks. He doesn't once scuff the ground, each step one of careful feline grace. It's like he is so aware of everything around him, but suppresses his own presence. Like he should have a net zero influence.

Struggling with the right to take up space is something you recognize all too well. Just because he is more successful at making himself invisible doesn't mean that he is any more comfortable. You hold yourself back from hugging him, holding his hand, standing in front of him to let him know that you see him. That you are happy to know him. That would be too presumptuous of you though. You have no real idea if he's happy to know you.

You kick a rock his way like a soccer ball, and find the words to say. “Listen, if we had the exact same skills, we would make a terrible team.” And beam at him.

He simply walks past the first rock you kicked his way. You walk a little closer to the edge of the road to a good sized rock and lift your foot to kick another his way when your left leg gives out. One minute you are upright and the next you feel gravity work against you as you tumble down the rocky ditch, everything a blur. You feel a jab in your elbow and your thigh and try your best to protect Your head with your hands. The bank is steep, but does eventually even out. You roll to a stop, dizzy and bruised.

You lie on your back, limbs akimbo, and your first glimpse was of a darkening sky followed by even darker eyes. They sparkled more than the early stars. You aren't entirely sure if there were two or four of them, but you are entranced. “Pretty” you exhale. Mori's scrunched face relaxes, but it was concern you saw lingering. You smile at him. “Don't worry~”
He tilts his head to give you a side eye, letting you know that that statement was even more worrying.

You start taking stock of your limbs, and also what you had said, and it was your turn to scrunch up your face in pain and embarrassment. Mori pales and his hands instinctively come up, as if to protect you from the pain. But he stops before actually putting them on you.

You can't bear the shame of collapsing like that and the situation you are now in, with Mori hovering over you scuffed and dirty in a ditch.

“Bet I look so hot right now” you try to chuckle.

“Did you hit your head?” He asks

Okay, ouch. “Yeah, but I mostly protected it with my arms.”

He looks deeper into your eyes, assessing your condition, but it makes you want to squirm and look away. You wave him off and say “I'm fine, really.” But when you try to get up, your muscles don't want to work how they're supposed to.

“Wait.” he says, and retrieves his backpack. He pulls a whole ass first aid kit from out his bag, and you wonder how often he gets hurt that he needs something like that. He takes out some alcohol wipes and big bandaids, then bends down on one knee over scraped legs. He looks up at you as if asking “may I?” You nod. He carefully cleans you up, not particularly gently but he is thorough. Your skin sparks as he brushes your hair aside to bandage a cut on your forehead.

He offers you a hand to pull you up. His hand is warm and a bit rough and encompasses yours. The feeling lingers even after you're shakily on your feet and he's let go. You climb unsteadily up the bank until you are firmly back on asphalt.

You are sore all over, and your knees are still shaky and threatening to give out again any minute. You feel a wave of despair imagining having to walk all the way back to campus. you check your phone and it says 8 pm. The shadows are deeper, and you are well outside the range of street lights. You would have killed to be in a place with Uber. or even a taxi.

You do your best to control your features as you turn to face Mori. He's standing between you and the edge, a wary expression on his face. “Look,” you begin, “I'm gonna need to take a little rest before I can head up. But you go on ahead! I'll make my way back up when I can.”

He genuinely huffs. “[y/n], I'm not going to leave you on the road at night.”

You shake your head, “ no no it's fine! You've really done enough for me. I appreciate it, but you don't have to wait for me.” You try your best with your body language to convey how honest you are being, while inside you are just buzzing with anxiety and would like to be alone and maybe just disappear. “Maybe just send someone with a car to get me when you get up there?”

In an uncharacteristic expression of emotion, he literally rolls his eyes. At you.

“Listen.” you say.

“Go on” he says

“Ah” you stumble “I don’t have anything else.”

“Okay then.”

Then he takes his bag off his back. He holds it up next to yours, which is a little smaller.

“Let me hold your stuff.”

You clench your jaw, but it would be easier. “Alright, thanks. Maybe we can fit it in your bag?”

Mori nods thoughtfully. He slots the first aid kid and his macbook into your bag, Then stuffs it in his own. He gives it a solid pat after it zips closed.

Chapter Text

The air is cooling quickly as the evening marches on, making goosebumps rise on your arms. You tuck them into your chest to keep them warm.

Mori looks up at you with expectation in his eyes. You look down at yourself, and try to brush some of the dirt off, and then look around you for clues as to what that might be.

You look back at Mori and find him slinging his backpack across the front of his body. It looks odd, and you tilt your head at him. You get a sneaking suspicion that is confirmed when he says

”I’ll carry you.”

You’ve never made so many noises in your life as you do right in this moment as you back up and look anywhere but at him. “Listen - I - That’s nice but- um- I couldn’t possibly! That’s - oh boy-“

Your limping gait as you try to put respectful distance between the two of you isn’t helping your case.

He waits there patiently with his hands on the bag like a big belly. It’s almost comical. How can he be so calm and collected when you are pretty sure you can’t breathe and also your cheeks are on fire. You put your hands on your cheeks to cool them down, and the two of you are standing there like cartoon characters in a freeze frame.

You take a deep breath and say “ at least let me try and walk first.” One thin eyebrow raises sceptically in response, but he acquiesces and flips his bag around to his back. You tense up all your muscles and begin to march forward yourself, putting all your weight on your left leg to minimize the appearance of limping. You keep flicking your eyes up at him to make sure he is keeping his eyes on the road and not examining you. As you do, your eyes linger an extra second on his arms and his hands that are gripping the straps of his back, bent in such a way that makes the muscles apparent. You’re not sure why you hadn’t believed he was strong before. Then you check his eyes again to make sure he didn’t notice you noticing, no then look at your feet in embarrassment. Oh yeah, you are totally all here right now.

You left leg starts to tire from holding you up, and it’s getting harder and harder not to hop a little when you have to put your right down. You can feel your knee throb every time you do. It’s not fair. Your eyes sting and you wrestle with the fact that even fucking walking is so hard for you.

You stop moving and feel your legs go out from under you – and then you go up instead of down. Mori has scooped you up, carefully placing his arms just below your knees and behind the middle of your back. All your systems crash. Your joints are screaming with relief and your mind is screaming for other reasons and your muscles all forget they have a job. It seems like a lifetime before you bring yourself to push (gently) on his chest to get him to put you down.

He looks down at you, and this close to him you notice how long his eyelashes are. Has his gaze always been this soft? He is unyielding, however, and just says matter-of-factory, “you can’t walk.”

You go to protest, but you understand you have already lost that fight. But if you’re honest, you are scared of how easy it would be to tuck your head against his collarbone. You squirm a little, and you could swear his grip tightens microscopically before he says “I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t let me carry you like this, you’ll accept a piggy-back ride back to campus.”

“Listen” you say but he cuts you off with a tone that would make a general proud, “you take the deal or I don’t let you go.”

“What kind of hostage situation…” you mumble under your breath. “Fine.” You say a little more loudly.

A victorious look passes over his face in just half a second, but you notice and you glare at him as he lowers you back to the ground.

He hugs his back and then kneels down, looking for all the world like a knight lost in the wrong time. You place your hands on his shoulders, and you die, and do a stupid little hop as he secures your thighs and lifts you back up into the air.

It takes a second to get comfortable considering you had to fit yourself around the straps on his back. He doesn’t appear to be making much effort at all.

“Have you ever carried anyone before?” You can’t help but ask.

He grunts an affirmative. You wonder if he’s used up all his words for the day. That’s fine with you, because you’ve used up all your everything for the day. But you keep running over his answer like a tongue over a sore tooth.

At least you don’t feel cold anymore. He’s better than any hot water bottle. You lean into him, and rest your temple in the middle of his back between the straps. You move with the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. The world gets dark as it lulls you into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Mori tried to blow a stray piece of hair off his forehead. His hands were on your thighs and there was no way in hell he was going to move them and risk jostling you and waking you up. He could feel the flutter of your steady breaths on the back of his neck. Every time his bag shifts and nudges you he wants to leave it by the side of the road.

He's not sure why he has such trouble focusing. This was the most practical solution. You couldn't walk, he could more than carry you the way there, leaving you wasn't an option. He carried Mitsukuni all the time.

Mitsukuni had wanted to hear all about you. They'd spoken on the phone last night.

“What is y/n like??” He'd asked in a tone that Mori knew meant he was getting at something.

“I don't know. Y/n's nice. And smart.” And many other things that he couldn't seem to articulate.

“Takashi~ I need more details than that…” Mitsukuni prodded.

Mori had sighed and clenched his jaw, thinking. “ y/n cares a lot about politics and law, in a way that makes me want to care. Their brain is so full of ideas that they seem to take up the space around them. Y/n's clumsier than Tamaki. Their hands are tiny but they're always trying to hold a million things in them. I've seen them drop their phone at least a dozen times.”

“I want to meet y/n too,” Mitsukuni audibly pouted, “I could fly over tomorrow morning and sit in on your class with you! Oh, and we could all go for ice cream together ~”

“Don't skip class. I know you have a test tomorrow.”

“You're no fun.”

There was a flash of headlights and the growl of an engine as a car flew past. Mori held his breath to check if you were still sleeping, but you just mumbled in your sleep and loosened your grip on his shoulders a bit. He tightened his grip on you and leaned forward a touch, so you were more comfortable.

When it came to you, he wanted you to have everything. He wanted to make the world softer for you, somehow. You had such high hopes for the world, even when it was particularly hard on you, and it ignited some desire in his chest to be your shield. He felt a little foolish about it, because you were capable of handling things yourself, but he was grateful for the moments you trusted him to help. He didn't really know what to do with himself otherwise.

If he was being honest with himself, and there were times he tried not to be, there was a hole where Mitsukuni had been. His whole life, his measure had been how useful he was to the people he cared about. He knew he was bad with words, he wasn't particularly motivated, but he was someone his family and friends could rely on. But out here… his hands were uncomfortably idle.

Except when he was with you. Your expressions were so obvious, even he could pick up on them. You were practically vibrating with anxiety when he'd sat next to you in class. He was worried that he was too intimidating so he tried to give you some space, but then the next class he caught you looking around for him. That moment caught in his chest, that someone had noticed his presence. He'd almost laughed when you'd spilled all those books onto the floor, after he'd watched you have half a dozen near misses. There was an honesty to you that he was drawn to.

All that led to him being here, with you on his back and the campus lights coming up around the corner. He didn’t really comprehend how fragile you were, but he was happy to be your legs for however long you needed him. He smiled and traced his thumb along your skin.

Immediately he scrunched his eyes and stopped. What am I doing? he thought.

It was very late by the time he stepped through the campus gate. There was no one else around, which was just as well, he didn't really want any questions. He walked up to your building, but realized he didn't know the code and he didn't have the hands to input it anyway.

He carefully set you down on the closest bench, and caught your shoulder as your body went to slump down. He shook you carefully, “Y/n? What's uh– what’s the code to your place”

You blinked sleepily at him and then smiled so widely in a way that left his ears feeling hot. “I got it,” you said waving your hand, “don't even worry about it…”
Mori thought you looked pretty unsteady, but you rubbed your eyes and teetered over to the front door. He was ready to catch you, but you got yourself into the building. You turned back and waved at him, and he lifted his hand in response. He bit down on the part of him that had wanted to tuck you in.

Chapter Text

In the morning, you are tired and sore and your bag is missing. You’ve got some nasty bruises on your elbow and legs, but luckily nothing seems seriously wrong. Your phone was in your bag, so you’re pacing around the room to try and wake up enough to decide on what to do.
There’s a knock at your door.
Before you even get it fully open two bags are thrust in your face. One is your bag, the other holds bandages and a breakfast sandwich. You look up into Mori’s face and his expression is carefully neutral but there is a frenetic energy about him that you don’t know how to interpret.
You grab the bags in both your hands, and get out a “thanks?”.
“I, uh, accidentally took your bag with mine last night.” He shifts his weight. “How are you?”
“A little bruised, in more ways than one,” you say, thinking about your ego, “but mostly alright.”
You turn and busy yourself putting the bags down in your room to avoid looking at him when you say, “Sorry for falling asleep on you last night. That’s literally never happened before in my whole life.”
He takes a step into your space. “Don’t worry about it”
You are not awake enough to process his tall frame in your room and that he brought you breakfast. You were holding the bandages in one hand and the sandwich in the other. You just kept looking at him, racking your brain for a normal thing, something, anything to say.
He swipes the bandages from your hand and kneels in front of you. You are so very aware that you are just in an old t-shirt and pajama shorts. You freeze stock-still, and hear him command “Eat.”  You mechanically take a bite as he wraps your knees with enough assurance that shows he is well practiced. You do have braces, but you’re not going to tell him that now.
You did not prepare your room for guests, and if kept his attention on you like this you were never going to be able to function so you look up at the ceiling and say “I was going to go to the library today to study for my History of the Law class. Do you want to come with me?”
He checks to see that the bandages are secure and the warm sturdiness of his hands on your legs makes them want to give out. “Good idea,” He responds.
You pull your phone charger out of the wall and stuff it in your bag, and usher him out of the door. You put the bag in his hand and make him stand out in the hall. “Now stay out there while I change. I can’t exactly go the library in my PJs. You see him turn towards the hall for extra measure, his back soldier straight to stand guard. You quickly shut the door, and put your face in your hands. You take more than a few shaky breaths and keep an eye on the door as you throw on an outfit.
When you’re somewhat presentable, you open the door back up and tap him on the shoulder. He doesn’t turn around all at once, peeking over his shoulder to make sure you are decent first like you might walk into the hall in your underwear. And, is that a blush? Surely not.
You hold out your hand to take your bag back, but he pointedly puts it over his shoulder and nods to you. You give him a look, but he only walks on ahead and opens the exit door for you. You tuck your hands into your pockets and follow after him.
He opens every door between you and the library. You even spot him kicking rocks out of your path, though he tries to be sneaky about it. You are baffled. It’s like baby’s first trip to the library. Guilt and embarrassment lodge themselves in your chest. You can’t help but wonder if he even wants to be here or whether he simply doesn’t trust that you would survive the day if he weren’t there.
You steer towards one of the shellacked tables lined up by the windows on the second floor of the library. Mori carefully but quickly steps around you to pull out a chair for you to sit down. You grit your teeth even as your heart flutters (which is has done every time). You sit and only then does he pull up a chair across from you. You don’t want to read too much into this behaviour, but it is taking up so much mental space you don’t know where to put it. You don’t know how to address it either, so you shoo your thoughts away and grab your textbook from out of the bag that he had set at your feet. You also take the time to plug your phone into the outlet, because it was so dead. Mori sets his ipad on the table too.
It is all of two minutes, however, before he stands up again. You pull your head up from the page to give him a questioning look. He rubs his hands on his pants before mumbling “I’m going to get tea.” and striding off towards the stairs.

You get through maybe half a chapter before he proudly sets a medium matcha latte in front of you, before sitting down with a large cup of his own. You tamp down the part of your heart that is excited that he remembered your order. The use food grade matcha at the school, but it is better than nothing.

“How much caffeine have you had today exactly?” you ask him, shutting the book.
He cocks his head, “none.”
“Sure, sure. How much sleep did you get last night?” you try from a different angle.
“Enough.”
You bite your cheek. It is looking more and more like you were right and he doesn’t really want to be here. Anger and resentment flashes hot through you.
“Look,” you say “I have survived on this planet just as long as you have, and have more experience taking care of my body. I appreciate your help, but don’t feel forced to look out for me because I’m a mess.” You hold the cup in both hands, steeling yourself and forcing the words to come out of your mouth, “ I… also feel guilty and uncomfortable with how far you are always going out of your way for me.”

Your statement hangs in the air. His face hardens, and he doesn’t say anything. Just goes back to his ipad. Stinging, you go back to your chapter too.

“I’m sorry.” he says in a low voice. He isn’t looking at you, but you feel like he has more to say so you keep quiet. He looks out the window for a few moments, before taking a deep breath and wrestling with his mouth to form words. “Please understand, I just want to help. To be helpful.” His hands are firm in his lap. “I don’t know what to do if I’m not helping.”

This whole time thought he was this impossibly put together man who couldn’t be shaken by anything, but here he sits in front of you like a herding dog without sheep and you want to laugh at how cute that is. All your anxiety-caused resentment gives way to a protective desire in your own heart. You put your hand forward on the table so that he looks you in the eyes.

“Mori, I’m going to let you in on a secret.” You furtively look left and right to accentuate your point. “The truth is, I just like hanging out and being around you.” You crack what you hope is a comforting smile, “you don’t have to do anything for us to spend time together, you know.”

“Hanging out?” he says tentatively.

“Yeah, you know. When you spend time with fr– someone and do something together.”

He looks down on your hand, and slowly lays his hand on top of yours.
He takes a few more heartbeats before looking at you with a serious gaze and asking, “Do you want to feed the birds with me?”
Your heart skips a beat and you tell him, “I would love that.”

Chapter Text

Mori stands back up excitedly, with a renewed sense of purpose. You quickly tuck your hand into your lap and try to will the red away from your cheeks. That confession – telling him you enjoyed spending time with him? (what were you thinking, far too much vulnerability) – had taken your entire reserve of courage.
You unconsciously glance at your textbook. Your work is simply not going to get done today, but that doesn’t bother you as much as usual.
Mori’s hands are clenched like he’s holding something in. After a second he says, “meet me in front of the library in 15 minutes. I just have to go grab something.”
And then he’s off, his long legs taking him down the hall impossibly fast.
Externally, you sigh to yourself and start packing your things away. Internally, it feels like there is a bubble growing in your chest. You try and wrestle it down and get your heart under control, but is it so bad, really, to be excited to do something Mori enjoys with him? Maybe you can let yourself have this.

You shift your weight and pull your jacket closer to your neck, the glass of the library building at your back. You didn’t bring gloves in your rush out the door this morning, and your fingers are red. One hand is warmed but your takeout cup of tea, but the other you don’t know what to do with and so just kind of rest it on top of the other.

You hear him before you see him. The pounding of his feet on the pavement as he runs your way, plastic bag in hand, small but unmistakable smile on his face. He stops gracefully in front of you, instantly killing his momentum and doesn’t seem one bit out of breath. You bite down on admiration and jealousy and smile up at him. He takes you in in one swift glance.
“Is your hand cold?” he asks.
You look at it again, scolding the colour for giving you away yet again.
“Here.” he says, slipping his warm hand into yours and curling his long fingers around it and then tucking them both into his coat pocket. Your whole body is pulled closer to his side, almost touching.
“Come on.” he urges you forward, pulling you along by your hand but clearly controlling his pace so you’re not uncomfortable.
You’ve seen couples walk like this on campus before, but you never thought it looked comfortable. But the warmth of the fabric and the solidness of his grip on you, the intention of it, made you feel secure. Sure, he could just be doing you yet another favour, but it might also be more…
“Hey.” your inner voice scolds you. “You’ll get hurt if you go jumping to conclusions”
You set your mouth. Of course. You sneakily look up at his face. You shouldn’t assume anything unless he tells you. Then again, he doesn’t actually say much. You bite your cheek and mull over the mercurial nature of language and if you can really trust in language that isn’t words.

It’s a good thing he’s guiding you because you haven’t been paying attention to the path for a hot minute. In fact, when he stops you fully stumble into him, your face pressing into his sleeve.

You look around to see where you are, and he’s brought you to a small grassy park area on the edge of the woods that has flooded to make a pond-sized puddle. In and around the water was a noisy flock of mallard ducks who had stopped here on their way south for the winter. They had the mien of a family at a truck stop on a road trip, fussing and nosing around to get what they need before taking off again.

A laugh bubbled out of you at the sight of them all. Mori, who had been watching you anxiously for your reaction, cracked a genuine smile. You leaned into him just a smidge more.

He pulled your hands from his coat and let go, making you fight the instinct to take it back. You went back to holding your rapidly cooling tea with two hands. He opens the plastic back he brought and shows you the inside. It is full of peas? You look at him in askance.

He gestures to the ducks. “I see a lot of students feeding them bread, but it’s not good for them. These are better” He says sheepishly. “Watch.”

He takes a few steps towards the pond and slowly tosses a handful of peas onto the surface of the water. It’s like a feathery tornado as all the ducks erupt into action, converging on the offering and shaking their cute little heads in the water to pick up the peas in their bills.

“Again!” you cheer.

He nods to you dutifully but with a twinkle in his eye as he tosses more peas to the ducks. The ones that were farther away are waddling towards you two furiously. You can’t get over how funny they are when they eat. What goofy little animals. They don’t seem scared of Mori at all and are practically at his feet. His impeccable posture towering over them makes him seem like a benevolent regent giving out alms. He looks at you and holds out the bag, offering. You tentatively step forward and the ducks skitter away a little, but accept you quickly when you also begin doling out the food.

You’re kind of sad when your fingers reach the bottom of the bag.

Mori holds his empty hands up to the ducks. “No more, ducks.”
You giggle, and swear they quack indignantly before going back to nosing through the wet grass.

You catch Mori's gaze, and there's a softness to his dark eyes. You look into them for a moment longer than what's polite, but he doesn't look away.

You nervously break the moment first, wiping your hands off on your pants. You look around and see a bench closer to the path, and trudge off to go rest your feet. It's not large, but still has one of those anti-homeless “arm rests” in the middle. You hate these things and briefly fantasize about finding some tools to get rid of it, but at this very moment it provides a physical barrier between you and him so that can wait. Your fingers itch to reach out and hold his hand again, but part of you worries it was a once-off thing and that you're overthinking it. Your chest tightens at the embarrassment and with anxiety at the idea you might make him uncomfortable. Have you just been the biggest idiot all this time? You can't even look at him when he sits down next to you, eyes fixed on the mud on your shoes. He settles and the proximity means that his arm touches yours. You don't move away but close your eyes, tensed, and focus on breathing.

You count your breaths to slow your heart. When the rush of blood in your ears abates, they pick up on the scrape of dry leaves pushed along the pavement by the breeze. The gentle quacking and rustling of the ducks. The steadiness of Mori’s breaths right next to you.
In.
Out.
You feel his arm rise and fall in time with them. You wait for the irregular intake of breath that would indicate he was about to ask you to explain yourself. But it never comes. His body never moves, and his breathing never changes.
He doesn't react when you open your eyes and peek at him. He seems perfectly comfortable just watching the ducks and the sky. You dare to really look at him.
He's so handsome in a way that seems out of place here in the real world. The sunlight brings out warm tones in his black hair, and his smooth skin glows. His straight nose and angular face would be intimidating if his lips didn't look so soft…

Your eyes dart up to his to see if he noticed you staring, but he has not looked your way. You ease further into your seat, settling in the moment. There's a meditative quality in the way Mori holds himself now. His slow breathing exaggerated so as to be audible, his stillness practiced. There’s a relief paired with longing that hits when you finally realize he is doing this on purpose. The same body language that must win over the trust of wild animals. For all your worry about making him uncomfortable, he’s been trying everything he knows to bring you comfort.

“You have a way with animals”, you speak finally.

“I've loved them ever since I was a kid.” He says, gaze still out at the field.

Your heart goes out to him when you remember what he said that night outside of the library. You wish his family would let him follow his heart, but you don't want to bring up a sore topic. Instead, you opt for “ I'm sure there's someone we could speak to about volunteering at the animal rehabilitation centre. Do you want me to look into that?”

His eyes crinkle into a smile, and he nods. He's still rigidly faced forward though, so you tug on his sleeve a little. He takes that as permission and swings to face you, making you very aware of how small the bench is and how close his face now is, bar or no bar. You surprise yourself by reaching up to touch his cheek, feeling his smooth skin beneath your palm, and his eyes close in a way that reminds you of a cat. You've never felt this trusted or close to anyone. His eyes open and rest briefly on your lips before gazing into your eyes.

“Y/n, I… care for you. I've been trying to find other ways to say it but I can't think of any.”

Butterflies dance in your stomach and your breath catches in your throat.

He tenses at the sound but you smile to reassure him, causing him to break out in a breathtaking smile of his own. You can't believe just a smile from you could make this man so happy.

He seems like he's waiting for you, so you whisper “I thought it was just me.”

He leans forward and lifts your chin, your own hand sliding back to find his soft hair. Even quieter, he asks softly, “May I?” In response, you close your eyes and lean in yourself. You feel the metal dig into your hip, but can't even begin to care when you feel the pressure of his lips on yours as he kisses you.