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The morning had been crisp and where shadows remained on the grass dew clung to each blade. It made the turf of the training field slippery but cool to the touch should one of them be knocked to the ground.

But the morning had slowly grown into midday and the sun had risen, taking the temperature with it. Gojo and Geto had already shed their outermost layers, leaving nothing but their thin, white tank tops to protect them from the sun’s rays.

They were the smart ones. They had learned the hard way only the year previous about how brutal summer training could get even in the mountainous forests outside of Tokyo. A lesson the first years were learning today.

Their bow staffs clacked off each other with such force that it seemed only cursed energy was keeping them from snapping on impact.

“Faster,” Gojo demanded. He smacked his staff into Nanami’s with a heavy twang. It reverberated through the wood but Nanami only took a half step back. He was sweating profusely.

“Take it easy,” the first year pleaded as he took another hard knock.

“Absolutely not,” Gojo said without hesitation, a thrilled smile on his face. Nanami was panting but his arms were still firm and holding strong against the assault called ‘training’. It was something unique to Nanami, he was like a brick wall, unyielding. Gojo took it as a personal challenge to try and knock the solid first year down.

They continued to move together, Gojo attacking and Nanami barely staying on his feet. His bangs clung to his damp forehead revealing his pinched expression.

Smack after smack and Gojo refused to show mercy to his kouhai. What would that teach Nanami anyway? Curses don’t care if it’s hot. They don’t care if you’re at your limit. Gojo pushed harder even as the sweat crept up his back.

“Ow!” Haibara’s soft voice ripped through the intense sparring between Gojo and Nanami. They stopped with their staffs still pressed together.

Geto instantly dropped his weapon, closing the space between him and Haibara. Gojo could not help the eye roll hidden behind his glasses.

“Are you okay?” Geto asked and snatched Haibara’s hand up into his own examining the extremity for broken knuckles or bleeding skin. Geto must have accidentally whacked Haibara’s knuckle. Sloppy. Figured he would be around Haibara. Pathetic.

Gojo pushed forward with his staff and Nanami stumbled back panting.

“Lucky you. Take a water break,” Gojo huffed. Nanami looked pissed but that didn’t concern Gojo all that much. He always looked at Gojo that way. Despite the pinch in his brow Nanami didn’t hesitate to trod over to his water bottle.

He guzzled the cool liquid as if he would have died without it. Gojo followed a few steps behind, careful to pace his sips so that the sudden influx of water didn’t make him feel ill.

“We might be being too harsh on them, Satoru,” Geto shouted as he trailed Haibara over to them.

“It’s just a little bruise, senpai! I’m good!” Haibara said with a smile before joining Nanami in chugging water. Nanami gave Gojo a sideways glance.

Gojo stuck out his tongue in response. If the blonde had something to say, he should say it.

“That’s not exactly what I meant. Nanami-kun, you look like you need a break too,” Geto observed before snatching Gojo’s water bottle out of his hand and stealing a sip. Gojo could only shrug. Fair is fair. He drank Geto’s earlier during their private training session.

Gojo had to admit Geto might have a point after all…

“Yeah, you look like a ken-doll held over a fire for too long,” Gojo said and Geto barely hid his snort.

“Do most Ken dolls wear emo band shirts?” Geto continued to tease, doubling down on Gojo’s silly comparison. That’s why they were friends after all.

Haibara giggled which only made Geto’s pleased expression widen. Gojo huffed and leaned against his staff as if it could support his lanky body.

“C’mon guys it’s too hot for bullying,” Haibara said after taming his laughter.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s too damn hot to even be offended,” Nanami grumbled before resecuring his mouth to the lip of his bottle. His voice was rough and thick.

Gojo watched the way Nanami’s throat moved as he chugged. Adam’s apple bobbing wildly and escaped droplets making trails down hot skin. He looked away when Nanami wiped his mouth with a hand, dragging his bottom lip along a knuckle.

“You could, you know– no one would be weird about if you–,” Geto began to gesture vaguely with his hand at Haibara. He was struggling. Gojo would have helped if he didn’t find the entire display hilarious. “You could take off your shirt. If it’s too hot. If you want.”

Geto cleared his throat after finally getting out that sentence. Gojo hid his amused expression behind his staff.

“I didn’t bring another shirt though! I’ll wear a tank top like you guys next time,” Haibara lamented his uncomfortable situation. It was clear his and Nanami’s shirts were soaked through and sticking to them in unpleasant ways.

“We had to do the same last year. Now you know for next time,” Geto reassured and Haibara smiled.

“By all means, strip. As long as you don’t mind Shoko seeing you. She’s a perv,” Gojo joked.

“I heard that!” Shoko shouted from the bleachers in the shade. She looked perfectly content beside her medical bag with cigarette in hand.

The jest between second years gave Haibara the reassurance he needed. With a small, nervous smile, he pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it in the general direction of his duffle bag.

He put out his arms and let the slight breeze run over his body, cooling the sweat on his skin. His sigh was pure relief.

“Kento, you’ve gotta do it too. It feels great,” Haibara encouraged. Gojo’s head perked up subconsciously.

Nanami’s eyes moved around his classmates. He almost looked suspicious. Maybe insecure? Not that he had any reason to be.

“I’ll get a sunburn,” Nanami finally said. He resecured the lid to his bottle before pressing it down into the grass.

The first years exchanged a look that Gojo didn’t understand but piqued his interest nonetheless. Haibara instantly became exasperated.

“Just take it off,” Haibara urged. “Ieriri-san can’t reverse technique a heat stroke.”

“I’m fine,” the other protested even as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Haibara tilted his head at his friend, Gojo mimicked the action.

“Oi, oi,” Geto said, clapping Nanami on a shoulder. “Aren’t you the one always calling Satoru ‘stubborn’, huh?”

He had a point. Nanami resented him for making it. Gojo resented being brought into it at all.

Nanami sighed so heavily it sounded painful, but he gave in. He pulled on the hem of his shirt, lifting the dark material up to his waist. Gojo was not trying to look. He wasn’t, but it was right in front of him. It would have been more weird to try and look away.

The whole action of removing the shirt took less than ten seconds but to Gojo, it must have lasted at least a year.

The first thing Gojo noticed was the thin trail of hair, slightly darker than the hair on his head. It ran from his navel down to the waistband of his joggers and beyond to where Gojo could not see.

The next image that Gojo’s mind computed was the very clear, defined abdominal muscles Gojo did not realize Nanami had. Gojo swallowed hard, mouth dry.

It made sense. Gojo’s stomach was toned from their constant onslaught of training and missions, but he had never tried to picture something like that on Nanami.

Geto made a fake wolf whistle at Nanami still raising his arms and Haibara’s amused giggles began anew.

“Go slower!” Shoko shouted from her distant viewpoint.

‘No, don’t. Go faster’ was all Gojo’s mind could plead for. He squeezed the training staff in his hands. ‘Get it over with. Make it end.’

The others may have been teasing and poking fun at Nanami’s initial prudish attitude about it but Gojo was unbelievably serious.

Arms still entangled above his head, Nanami flinched from mild embarrassment making all the muscles on his torso jump slightly. Gojo tried to will his eyes to blink but they wouldn’t budge.

He pulled the shirt higher until it caught on his chin for a half-second. For that moment Nanami was this pristine, faceless model of a young man. A small smattering of chest hair, sweat running over the strained muscles, V-lines mapping down to his–

Nanami pulled his head free and Gojo could breathe again. The shirt had pushed Nanami’s damp hair backward away from his face. He didn’t look like the first-year kouhai Gojo had come to recognize.

“Happy?” Nanami said roughly, clearly feeling a bit exposed. Gojo wasn’t trying to add to that feeling. He was grateful for his sunglasses, hiding his eyes as he still could not summon the courage to look away.

“Who wouldn’t be?” Shoko snickered and took another drag off her cigarette.

Gojo. That’s who. He was the opposite of happy. His skin itched, his head hurt, and his stomach felt empty and queasy. Who could be happy like this?

It was just the heat. The heat and the exercise. It was making him lightheaded and sick. He didn’t eat enough for breakfast. He drank his water too quickly. Anything to blame this feeling on other than Nanami’s bare body in front of him.

Nanami bent down to get his staff off the ground. His body curved, folding in half. Nanami’s shoulders rolled as he stood and Gojo began to strangle the training weapon with his hands.

Blonde, sweaty hair flopped in front of Nanami’s face only to be pushed back. It only fell forward once more. Nanami repeated the motion, this time holding his hands up to his head, perhaps hoping if he held the hair in place it would be less likely to get in his way again.

Gojo wasn’t in control of his eyes. If he was then he certainly wouldn’t have allowed them to dart to Nanami’s exposed armpits. He had more hair than Gojo. Dark and thick and masculine.

That shouldn’t have meant anything to Gojo but his skin only itched more. Every inch of his body ached slightly. The air was too dense with heat and it caught in Gojo’s throat.

“Hey, I’ve got an extra,” Haibara said as he pointed to the sweatband holding back his own hair. “Want it?”

Nanami took Haibara’s offer and Gojo took it as an opportunity to regain his composure. He rubbed his eyes hoping to scrub away his thoughts, pinching his glasses in his free hand.

Nanami put his back to Gojo, letting Haibara help him adjust the spare headband over his hairline. When Gojo opened his eyes he saw a new side to this hell.

Nanami’s back was chorded in muscle, even more than his front. Defined lines that carved out his shoulder blades and waist. They moved every time Nanami even lifted his arm. Nanami’s narrow, adolescent frame had been deceiving Gojo all this time. He had no idea about what had been under just one layer of clothing.

“You okay?” Geto asked as he elbowed Gojo who nearly dropped his glasses from the shock of the question.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, I’m fine. I’m just — bored. It’s sparring, not a strip tease,” Gojo snarked and Geto smiled like it was funny. It wasn’t a bad cover, pretending to be impatient.

Gojo was notoriously impatient and stubborn. He banked on his own character flaws to not be discovered as the gawking freak he suddenly found himself to be. Geto seemed to buy it but Gojo remained on edge.

Gojo doubled down on the lie. “Are you finished doing your hair?” Gojo shouted to Nanami. It was a mistake. As soon as Gojo spoke Nanami tensed. His whole body. It was only slightly, but impossible to ignore how each strong section tightened. Gojo scrambled to put his glasses back over his bugged-out eyes before Nanami could turn around.

Nanami’s glare was nothing new on its own but with his hair pushed back and his body exposed. He looked… older, like a young man rather than a teen boy. Gojo felt something move in his body. Maybe it was his stomach flipping, maybe something else. He couldn’t tell.

It didn’t matter. Gojo pushed down the feeling as the first years came closer to resume their training session. When they resumed the sparring Nanami managed to land four sharp hits on Gojo almost immediately. Each one was more infuriating than the last.

The sparring went on even as both boys became breathless and red-faced. Neither one was willing to relinquish victory even over such a simple training exercise. To Gojo, it was much more. He felt as though he was conquering something, battling some deep temptation.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t go easy on me,” Nanami grunted as the two slammed together, locked into a press of staffs.

“Thought you earned a break. Guess not,” Gojo managed to bite out before hooking one of Nanami’s ankles.

Nanami went down hard. He landed on his back with his arms up by his head, air knocked from his lungs. Gojo spun his staff in hand before aiming the tip of the weapon at Nanami’s chest.

It felt good for a second. The briefest of seconds. Seeing Nanami down on the ground made Gojo feel as if he had overcome something but looking down for a moment longer proved how much Gojo had failed to combat these uncomfortable feelings.

Nanami’s chest heaved, desperate to suck in the air Gojo had knocked from him. The motion almost made Nanami’s chest rise to touch Gojo’s staff. The way Nanami looked up at him from below burned Gojo’s skin more than the sun above ever could have.

Deep brown eyes were bright and intense as they glared up at him.

They were caught in a moment. Gojo stood above, victorious but looking at Nanami’s shirtless, panting body on the ground made him feel a rush entirely different from victory.

Gojo didn’t know how to move. He should have allowed Nanami to get up by now. Asked if his underclassman was alright. Given feedback on where Nanami had left himself vulnerable.

But the truth echoing in Gojo’s mind was about how he was the vulnerable one, not Nanami. How could he have been so disarmed by Nanami, by this image?

Nanami’s brow pinched, clearly he had become aware of the elongated time as well. How could he not? Being the one knocked to the ground he must surely have noticed Gojo’s lack of certainty.

The sound of clacking staffs behind Gojo brought him back to his reality. Nanami was just a classmate. His kouhai. He was the senpai and he was acting like some schoolgirl with a crush.

He did not have a crush on Nanami.

Gojo lifted his staff away from Nanami’s chest which had reduced its desperate consumption of air back down to an exhausted cycle of inhales and exhales. Gojo thought about his options. It would be even more bizarre if he simply walked away.

Though that’s exactly what his stomach begged of him. His alight nerves begged him to run and flee and never look Nanami in the face again.

Instead, Gojo summoned the will to act like a normal person. He bent down and extended a hand that Nanami was hesitant to take.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” Gojo practically whispered. Nanami’s eyes regained some familiar disdain and he grabbed Gojo’s hand.

He pulled and Nanami came up with the action. He took an extra step forward for balance and Gojo failed to step back or to the side out of his way. They almost bumped torsos, Gojo’s tanktop-clad chest and Nanami’s bare skin nearly scraped together.

Gojo squeezed Nanami’s hand on instinct. He could feel Nanami’s pulse through his fingertips. His heart was pounding far quicker than his breathing would have indicated. Every microsecond they stood there together, so close, Gojo’s own heart began to ramp up too.

He could smell Nanami’s sweat. The adrenaline from a good fight, the outpour of water wasted by the heat in an attempt to remain cool. It was a little thick and natural and Gojo hated that he inhaled through his nose again.

“Are you okay, Nanami-kun?” Shoko shouted from across the training field. Nanami and Gojo jumped backward in perfect sync. Their hands broke apart and rushed to their sides.

“Fine. I’m fine, senpai,” Nanami called back. His eyes shifted back to Gojo. “I’m good.”

Gojo looked around himself. If Shoko had been watching he wanted to read her expression, see if she saw what Gojo was feeling. When he turned he noticed Geto and Haibara had also ceased their practice duel.

“Couldn’t tone it down for him, Satoru?” She asked, a disappointed curl to her lips.

He couldn’t help but resent that. Couldn’t Shoko see, couldn’t all of them see what Gojo was faced with?

Gojo turned back to Nanami who had not taken any additional steps away from Gojo, still so temptingly close. Maybe Nanami didn’t know what he looked like to Gojo right now. Maybe he had been successful in passing off his confused attractions as irritation and competitiveness.

“Maybe it’s a good idea for the first years to take a break.” Geto’s voice and calm reasoning were like a bastion of stability and familiarity in a sea of confusion and frustration for Gojo.

“Yeah. Yeah, good call. You need a shower anyway,” Gojo said, directing the last part at Nanami.

Nanami finally stepped away, only a few steps toward his water bottle and duffle. When fresh air slapped Gojo in the face, clearing out the heady smell of Nanami from him, he regretted making such a comment to his kouhai.

“Fine with me,” Nanami said as he bent down to grab his stuff. He tossed his shirt over his shoulder, flashing Gojo another glimpse of his armpit and the muscles that move around his ribs.

Haibara followed Nanami’s lead. He handed Geto his training staff, their hands lingering next to each other. Gojo thought he noticed a brush of their fingers and fleeting eye contact.

“Maybe we can all go for sodas and ice cream later? Ice cream always tastes better when it’s hot!” Haibara’s chipper voice didn’t seem deterred by Geto’s decision to be done with the younger boys.

Nanami and Gojo exchanged a strange look. Before Gojo could begin to decipher it Nanami dropped his gaze. He tugged off his hairband and blonde, damp strands fell over his forehead.

“I just want a shower. I can’t think about food.”

That struck Gojo as odd. Not at all like how he typically sees Nanami. That strange suspicion only increased when Hiabara’s face also pinched in confusion. Nanami shrugged his duffle up higher on his shoulder.

He walked past Gojo, going a little further out of his way to put more distance between them as he trudged on back towards the dorm building up the hill from the training field.

Haibara was quick behind. Gojo and Geto watched as the two boys climbed the hill, exposed back muscles flexing with each step to haul their duffles filled with training gear with them. They only paused to give Shoko a proper farewell.

“You’re not gonna turn down ice cream, are you?” Geto asked. He undid his hair only to put it back up tighter. All the motion of sparring had made his ties come loose. Good on Haibara, getting him to lose composure a bit.

“Who do you think you’re talking to? Of course, I’m going.”

“Even if Nanami-kun comes too?”

Gojo shot his friend a glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Just cause he landed a few hits on me doesn’t mean shit. I won that fight.”

“Satoru, I wasn’t talking about the sparring,” Geto sighed.

They only trained for a few minutes more before Gojo began to wish they had quit when the others did. Not only was the sun hotter with every passing moment but there seemed to be no way to shake Nanami’s body from Gojo’s mind.

Gojo rolled the words around inside his mouth before speaking. He gripped and readjusted the hold on his staff multiple times to procrastinate the question.

“You’re attracted to Yuu-chan, aren’t you?” He finally asked.

Geto messed up his spin. The staff over-rotated in his hands, it tipped backward out of control and smacked him in the face. It bounced off his brow bone with a thud. The staff fell to the ground at his feet. His glare was mean. Gojo was unaffected.

“Dude! What the fuck kind of question is that?”

“I dunno man, just say ‘yes’ already.”

“You’re such a dick. Yeah, okay, I like him. What about it?” Geto shook his head and picked up the staff. He was certainly already imagining beating Gojo’s ass with it, friendship & brotherhood be damned.

“What… what does it feel like when you look at him?”

_______

“That went good, right?” Haibara asked rhetorically. He was trying to maintain some degree of positivity. While Nanami appreciated the effort he was feeling entirely opposite.

“He said I stink. Literally.”

“He didn’t literally say that. We all need to rinse off, I’m sure that’s all he–”

Nanami shot his best friend a glare that almost cast a shadow over the bright sun beating down on them. It was enough to silence Haibara until they got back into the dorm.

They walked to Nanami’s room. Well, Nanami walked there and Haibara willingly followed him inside without invitation. He didn’t need it. Not with Nanami.

Nanami wasn’t trying to be cold to his friend. No, Nanami simply couldn’t find the capacity to fake his emotions around Haibara.

He dropped his duffle to the floor, not caring to put it in its proper place. He rubbed his face and groaned.

“You’re being dramatic!”

“Are you joking?”

“I took off my shirt too!” Haibara chirped at him and gestured at his torso, less toned than Nanami’s even relaxed. “You looked…”

Haibara trailed off as Nanami slammed into his desk chair. “Like a damn idiot.”

“Good. I was gonna say good.”

“Oh, like you were looking. It’s a miracle if you and Geto-senpai can stop staring into each other’s eyes long enough to blink,” Nanami snipped.

Nanami knew he was right from the way Haibara’s naked shoulders dusted red before it climbed up to his cheeks.

“Shoko thought you looked good!” They stared at each other. Nanami made a face and Haibara nodded and bit his lip in what was seemingly psychic understanding. “That doesn’t help when you’re crushing on Gojo-senpai, does it?”

“I’m not crushing on him.”

“Oh, spare me.” Haibara sat down on Nanami’s bed, it squeaked under him. He wiped the back of his neck with his shirt.

“I’m not! I’m– I don’t know what I am,” He sighed, defeated by his juvenile feelings.

They sat in silence. Nanami covered his face with his sweaty shirt. It was gross but the darkness helped him sort out his emotions. Humiliation clambered over anxiety and excitement inside his mind. All the feelings merged into the darkness behind his eyes as one: frustration.

He inhaled, preparing his lungs to do one of his signature sighs. It cooled the frustration from the inside out. He went to exhale but sputtering giggles interrupted him.

The shirt fell from his face, pooling in his lap when he tilted his chin back down. He blinked at Haibara, crosslegged on his bed and giggling.

“Sorry!” Nanami’s expression must have been enough to make Haibara stutter the apology between titers. “I’m sorry, okay? But what did you expect him to do?”

“What?”

“Were you hoping he’d take one look at your abs and happy trail and throw himself at you?” The giggles bubbled out even more and Nanami’s cheeks went pink.

Haibara was right. He had no idea what he expected Gojo to do. Like he would do anything different. It wasn’t some stupid teen drama on TV, it was his reality where really he should be more concerned about dying by a curse than some stupid crush.

Nanami did sigh. Not heavy and pained but light and full of self-forgiveness. He never understood how Haibara could change his entire perception with a swat of honesty and a smile.

“I don’t know. I do know I didn’t want his reaction to be about my smell,” Nanami grumbled. Haibara laughed hard enough to snort at that. He leaned forward and punched Haibara on the arm. It was a light hit but Haibara clutched his arm anyway. “That’s for pressuring me.”

“Okay, fine, I do deserve that but I’m serious! You looked fine and I’m sure it went better than you remember.”

“There are grass stains on my back and ass.”

Haibara fell over laughing on Nanami’s bed. He grimaced thinking about Haibara’s dirty skin on his duvet. He promised himself he would wash it later. Getting himself clean first was more important.

Nanami paused. His mouth curved down. He glanced at Haibara, fuck it. They were close enough and Haibara of all people wouldn’t care. Nanami raised an arm enough to quickly sniff at his body.

There was nothing too horrendous that he could detect himself. He tried again and once more failed to find any smell that would have made Gojo look at him like that. Like it hurt to even glance at Nanami.

As embarrassing as smelling bad would be, at least if he did then there would be a reason for Gojo’s disdain. He had been looking at Nanami like that more and more. Like there was something smeared on Nanami’s face or a bug in his hair.

“Do I actually smell bad?” Nanami asked. It was more a question he meant for himself but said out loud. Haibara answered anyway.

He rolled over onto his side, socked feet dangling off the foot of the bed. “I don’t know. I haven’t noticed. Here, let me smell you.”

Haibara’s arm extended and Nanami instantly leaned away from him, eyebrows pinching together uncomfortably. “No, what?”

“Not your pits, your shirt, dummy! Give it to me,” Haibara laughed some more, making a little grabby motion with his outstretched hand. Nanami gave him the shirt, relieved he and Haibara wouldn’t get any closer than they already were.

He watched, grossed out, as Haibara wafted the garment in front of his face, inhaling deeply. He rotated it and smelled again. The smell test went on long enough for Nanami to get comfortable and lost in his thoughts that always seemed to wander back to Gojo.

The dirty shirt smacked into Nanami’s face and dropped down his front. Haibara had thrown it back at him.

“That’s for punching me so hard,” Haibara smiled. “You smell fine. Nothing more than I’d expect after sparring with them.”

“You’re only mad I teased you about Geto-senpai.”

Haibara shrugged as if that made it any less true.

“You know who had a smell? Geto-senpai. He smelled good. Masculine. Musky. With a bit of-”

“Stop! Stop right there. I don’t want to hear it.”

Haibara smiled as if terribly pleased with himself. Nanami huffed at him. In response, Haibara put his arm up fully and smelled himself.

“Ugh, I smell worse than you. Maybe Gojo-senpai was smelling me?”

“You know, that doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Is that because I stink and I laid down on your bed?”

Nanami jutted out his lips and nodded. “Yeah. That might have something to do with it.”

Haibara could only laugh at him again. Nanami spared him a weak smile. His friend rolled off his bed and gathered up his duffle.

They were only apart for less than a minute as Haibara traded his duffle for a towel and his shower caddy. When they rejoined it was with a shower wall between them. Nanami could no longer see Haibara but the other boy made his presence known anyway.

“You should split an ice cream with him later. He likes sweets,” Haibara called over the sound of the shower heads.

“Do you have to shout about it so loud?” Nanami hated himself a little bit for how good of an idea he thought that could be. He wasn’t even a fan of sweets and here he was, already envisioning eating the cold treat.

“Like he’ll hear me. Those two never know when to quit. I bet they are still out there sparring.” Haibara was probably right. Even so, Nanami didn’t voice his agreement. He didn’t like the risk of it.

The only thing worse than not knowing if his feelings were unrequited was to know for sure that they were. Which, recalling how Gojo had been looking at him recently, was increasingly likely. Nanami tried to imagine what Gojo would look like if he heard Haibara.

Even on Gojo, it wasn’t a pretty sight. Would he scowl? Curl up his lip in disgust? Would he be cold about it? Stone-faced and unmerciful?

Nanami ducked his head under the stream of the shower trying to rinse his fears from his mind.

“We should have stayed and watched with Ierei-senpai,” Haibara said. His low shouts were slightly watery from the shower filling his mouth as he spoke.

“So they could be witness to your gawking?” Nanami criticized but couldn’t help his imagination from wandering to thoughts of Gojo sparring.

The way his body moves. So fast, Nanami had worked hard to keep up and it was still nothing compared to him. He liked the flush of pink across Gojo’s chest from fighting so hard in the heat and wondered what that would look like-

Nanami turned the water colder and submerged his body in it. He scrubbed his flesh in ways he wished he could scrub his brain. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on getting clean.

The water in the shower stall beside his turned off. There were some distant drips but Nanami could barely hear anything above the rush of his shower beating water down onto his head.

“See you for ice cream later, yeah?” Haibara called. Nanami shrugged but then realized Haibara wasn’t looking in to see him despite the lack of a curtain or door preventing it.

“Yeah, alright,” Nanami shouted slightly without pulling his head out from the stream. He heard the bathroom door swing shut and sighed out his relief at being alone.

He adored Haibara, of course. Often he was the one who made Nanami realize things, things he had never thought to even consider. Haibara was the one to point out Nanami’s crush to him. Not that Nanami felt particularly grateful for that at this present moment.

As always, all thoughts seem to find their way back to Gojo.

Blocking out other examples, Nanami only focused on the training session. Everyone except Gojo had encouraged him to take off his shirt. Should he have followed his inhibitions? Kept himself clothed?

His face heated as he recalled getting his own shirt caught around his sharp jaw. He was so hot, so sweaty that even his skin had stuck together at the time. Lifting the shirt was almost as big of an energy drain as wielding the staff.

Though Haibara had been right, as usual. The breeze had felt nice on his damp skin. Why did Gojo have to look at him like that? Why did Gojo have to look like that? The thin tank top and loose shorts. So much pale skin exposed and out for Nanami’s eyes and he had tried so hard not to make it obvious he was looking.

With a defeated shove to the shower knob, he turned the water down once more but it did little to quell the embarrassment and interest he had felt now resurfacing.

It was to no avail. Instead, his heart rate began to increase as it had on the training field. He recalled Gojo’s grin turned sneer as they fought. How Gojo continued to increase the strength of every hit after Nanami removed his shirt.

Nanami had landed a few good hits. He had felt good about it. Felt good about their banter too. As much as his senpai confused him, Gojo also gave Nanami a rush unlike any other which stirred anew every time they got close.

But every time Nanami got closer or felt like maybe there was something tangible between them Gojo would do exactly as he had earlier, swiped his legs out from under him, and drop him to his ass on the ground.

Even so, Nanami could at least be proud of himself for hiding his attraction and emotion well enough. The thought alone made him recall how many times when they were swinging the staffs wildly he had wanted to pause everything. Had wanted to put his hands on Gojo, his waist, the chest so poorly covered by the thin, sweat-drenched tank top.

Wanted to move away the damp, white strands of hair clinging to his forehead. What would those chilling eyes have looked like under the hot sun?

He looked down towards his feet and squinted through the water running across his face. He cursed his own young body for reacting like this. He closed his eyes once more, forcing himself to focus on pushing out the involuntary recollection of the sparring.

It didn’t work and his adolescence only impressed upon him further. It was increasingly difficult to ignore. It combatted the cool water. He looked over his shoulder into the open space of the empty bathrooms.

Haibara was right. None of their senpais had come in and were in all likelihood still out on the field. He didn’t waste more time trying to push away his thoughts. Nanami took hold of himself and let his mind wander through the memories of the sparring. He focused on how good it felt to have his hot skin exposed to the air and so very close to Gojo. He groaned low and thought of Gojo.

His shower ended up being twice the length of Haibara’s. When he was done still no one else had entered the bathroom and he was deeply grateful. Maybe his luck had improved, karma had rebalanced itself as an apology for looking so stupid trying to remove his shirt in front of Gojo.

After toweling off the cold water of the shower, the heat quickly returned to his skin. The hot day surrounded him in humidity. Even if it was hot, at least he was clean. He swung open the bathroom door, enjoying the breeze that the action generated. The air rushed over all the exposed skin that the towel at his waist didn’t cover.

Nanami stepped into the hall where the air, while still warm, didn’t carry the weight of moisture into his lungs. When he looked down the hall he froze.

Luck had worn out and the proof was Gojo walking towards him only a meter or so down the hall in the direction Nanami had to go. He had a clean towel tossed over one shoulder.

“Damn,” Nanami whispered. He lifted an arm to brush his still-wet bangs out of his face. Gojo froze too. His mouth opened and closed. Opened and then he finally spoke.

“Are the showers okay?” Gojo asked after a second. It didn’t sound like a genuine question to Nanami. He looked over his shoulder at the swinging bathroom door.

“Yes? I didn’t check on their emotional states but they are working fine.” Nananmi tightened his grip on his towel. He thought Gojo’s chin dipped slightly.

“Hilarious,” Gojo chuffed. He took a few steps forward. They’d have to cross past each other eventually. “You were in there this whole time?”

Nanami pinched up his face, fighting off the embarrassment thinking about why he was in there so long. He regretted not bringing more clothes into the shower with him. He had put too much faith into Haibara’s guess of how long the upperclassmen would take to come back inside.

“I recall someone saying I needed it.”

“I’m sorry, were you not a sweaty mess after I kicked your ass?” Gojo smiled, teasing Nanami. That at least felt normal, felt good. Better than the confusing looks he has been giving him lately.

“Like you were any better,” Nanami replied. There was a short silence before Gojo laughed again, briefly and in his throat. It was quiet and fake but Nanami couldn’t figure out why.

“Fine, I’ll admit it, the heat got to me and I let you get some hits on me.”

“Let me?”

“Think you could do it again?” Gojo took a few more steps towards the bathroom. Toward Namami. Only an arm's length apart now.

“I don’t know. I did go through the trouble of scrubbing away the grass stains on my back. Be a shame to accept your challenge and get dirty all over again.”

“No wonder you took so long, Wasn’t sure you could reach all of them after I laid you out.”

Nanami’s skin was growing warm again, this time from within. Gojo’s voice was vibrant and proud and bordering on playful now. Nanami liked it like this. Liked them like this.

“You didn’t put me down that hard.”

“You sure about that?” Gojo asked and put his hand out. He grabbed Nanami by the shoulder and Nanami twisted his body in full compliance with Gojo’s grip. He rotated enough to give Gojo a look at his back.

Nanami opened his mouth to say something snarky back, enjoying having proved Gojo wrong but was stopped by the hold on his shoulder twitching and tightening. Nanami looked over over his own body trying to see whatever Gojo was seeing. It was only his skin. Clean and damp and cool.

“You didn’t even leave a bruise.”

Gojo didn’t reply. He was stiff and his hand remained on Nanami’s shoulder even as he untwisted his spine to stand up properly. Gojo’s chin definitely dipped down this time. They were so close that there was no mistaking it.

“Um. Yeah. No bruises, good, now I don’t have to feel bad like Suguru says I should,” Gojo spoke at Namami’s naked torso, not his face. His voice was choppy and tense.

“Senpai? Are you alright-”

Nanami cut himself off. No, Gojo cut Nanami off but not with his voice. His hand. It moved from Nanami’s shoulder down, fingertips light and ghosting until they pressed into the top of Nanami’s chest muscle.

Goosebumps exploded out in waves from the touch. Nanami’s heart rate jumped to a dangerous level instantly but he kept his face calm, only breathing heavier through his nose.

Gojo’s fingers flattened. His palm went concave. He cupped Nanami’s left pectoral. The touch was light but intentional. Undeniable but tentative. Gojo drew in a shaky breath.

“Your heart’s racing. Like before,” Gojo whispered. His gaze was locked below Nanami’s face, to his body. As if every stray drip of water still clinging to his skin was a riveting display.

“Before?” Nanami couldn’t hold the question back. He couldn’t hold anything back. If he had any thoughts capable of being verbalized they would have tumbled from him with no filter. The light touch alone was enough to have that effect. Every wall went crashing down. Nanami’s voice brought Gojo back to the real world.

“Fuck, I-. Forget it.” Gojo pulled back suddenly. He took a clumsy step backward, hand pulling to his own chest.

Nanami's walls weren’t the only ones down. Nanami realized only a second after speaking that Gojo’s touch was real, no infinity between them. His words weren’t the only cognitive function lacking control. His arm reached out before he could think about what it could mean.

“Wait. Just wait.”

His hand was on Gojo’s wrist and pulling him back before Gojo could flee or act like nothing had happened.

Nanami pressed Gojo’s hand back to his chest, right in the middle against his sternum. The fingers were curled up into a tight fist. Gojo stared at his hand, refusing to look up from it to Nanami’s eyes. There was a small barrier. Nanami could feel it. Infinity forced them apart and pressed into Nanami’s skin.

Most of the time, Nanami was grateful for Gojo’s glasses. He was usually grateful for how they covered Gojo’s eyes that seemed to distract him endlessly, ever since he first saw them. Now, in this one moment, Nanami wanted nothing more than to see those eyes. He wanted to see Gojo, to give himself even the smallest chance to guess what Gojo may be thinking.

He followed his wants, reaching up with the hand that didn’t hold Gojo’s against him. Nanami’s fingers paused only a centimeter from Gojo’s glasses, hovering in the air.

“Senpai, you can touch me. I-” Nanami’s tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. His nerves all screamed at him. “I want you too.”

Gojo’s face shifted from top to bottom. His brows furrowed, his nostrils flared and, finally, his mouth twisted and curled into a conflicted line. Nanami inhaled and prepared to give up on this. He began to think of hiding in his dorm for a month in shame and never speaking to another human again.

The barrier vanished. Gojo’s fingers began to uncurl. He spread his hand wide slowly. His touch dragged across Nanami’s skin and sent out waves of goosebumps from the touch.

Chills and warmth competed for dominance in Nanami’s body as every hair and inch of him stood on end.

He pinched Gojo’s glasses. The older boy didn’t pull away and Nanami took that as permission. He pulled the glasses off Gojo’s face.

The action was silent but had an effect more like a starting gun. Their eyes met and Gojo’s other hand came up quickly. Both hands dragged and scrapped Nanami’s chest, feeling him up from his ribs up to his shoulders and back down.

Still holding the glasses between his fingers, Nanami used his palm to cup the side of Gojo’s head and brought their faces together.

“Shit,” Nanami mumbled after the initial kiss before the next one seared to his lips. It was the only word he could conjure to express his surprise at how things had shifted for them. It was the only thing he could say because he couldn’t comprehend how intense Gojo’s kiss was.

It burned onto Nanami’s mouth and mind more bright and hot than the sun they had fought under. It burned him up from the inside out only to meet the chills painted on his skin by Gojo’s touches.

Nanami tried to hold Gojo by the waist with his other hand but the friction of their lower bodies brushing loosened the wrap of Nanami’s towel around his hips.

He squeezed the damp towel to his hip bone with white knuckles. It began to ache but hurt less than the desire to touch Gojo back. Nanami stood there in the hallway of the dorms in his towel letting his senpai paw and squeeze him.

Despite his earlier embarrassment, he was grateful he had given into his body in the shower before this. If he hadn’t there would be more than his torso pressing into Gojo now. He was barely holding onto his control as it was.

“We need to-” Gojo hissed but then kissed Nanami again before he could finish the thought. “Move.”

Another kiss. Lips dragging together, tongues beginning to become curious and exploratory.

Nanami leaned into it as best he could. He wanted to push against Gojo fully, every inch of his torso needed to meet Gojo’s but those eager hands kept them apart. Nanami knew Gojo was right but the idea of moving was agony. It was impossible to even imagine summoning the ability to stop this.

“We should –mngh– go. Somewhere.” Gojo’s words were becoming increasingly distracting. His hands were too pushy, accidentally nudging Nanami into taking a few steps backward. It didn’t matter. Gojo’s hands followed his feet.

“Yeah,” Nanami muttered into Gojo’s mouth. Those pretty pink lips were as soft as he had imagined numerous times. He’d go anywhere Gojo could manage to guide him as long as he didn’t have to give up those lips. “You’re right.”

Maybe that’s another benefit of being Gojo, somehow having the coherence to still think about where and when they were. Nanami was losing his grip on that and had very little desire to hold onto it.

He didn’t have much of a choice because Gojo’s suspicions were, as always, well-founded.

Behind Gojo, there was a noise. The opening of a door. Nanami’s eyes cracked open glimpsing the motion down the hall. Before he could cut through the haze to recall whose room it was he was being half shoved and half dragged.

He and Gojo stumbled into the boys’ bathroom. Their legs tangled as Nanami fell back against the closed door, barricading the entrance from intruders with his body.

They panted against each other, pounding chests pressed together.

“Who was it?” Gojo asked.

“I’m not sure.”

They waited and tried to hear anything other than the beating of their hearts. There was nothing but the anxious fear that someone could try to come in at any second. When nothing came after a moment their eyes dared to reconnect.

“That was,” Nanami trailed off.

“Yeah,” Gojo whispered back. Nanami felt his cheek heat and prayed they weren't pink when Gojo’s slightly swollen lips picked up into a small smile. Gojo started to lean in again. Then he paused. “You hear that?”

All Nanami could hear beyond his heart was dripping water from one of the shower stalls. He tried to listen but the echoing ghost trails of Gojo’s touch were louder.

Gojo pulled on the bathroom door slightly. Nanami obeyed the action, leaning further against Gojo so they could open it. They didn’t dare stick their heads out, only peering through the crack and listening.

Nanami finally heard what Gojo did. A knocking. It was further down the hallway. There was a brief silence before the knocking started once more accompanied by a voice.

“Kento? Are you in there?” Haibara’s voice was quiet, barely audible to them in the bathroom down the hall. He knocked on what Nanami assumed was his door again.

“Shit,” Nanami hissed. It was his word of the day. “I’ve got to get out there. He’ll check here next.”

“What are you? Attached at the hip or something?” Gojo asked rhetorically with an eye roll. Nanami gave him a look. The irony was loud. It was almost as hard to pass Yaga-sensei’s obstacle courses as it was to find Geto and Gojo apart.

Nanami let go of the comment. He stood up fully but Gojo only gave him the minimum amount of distance to adjust his towel, tightening it back around his hips.

“Are you-” Nanami started but wasn’t sure how to finish. There wasn’t time. Not right now. “Can we talk? Later?”

He handed Gojo back his glasses and mourned the view of those eyes when Gojo slid the shades back into place.

“Yeah, sure. Or maybe we won’t talk much,” Gojo flirted with a smirk. Nanami knew they’d have to actually talk about what happened but that option was far more enticing and pleasant to his imagination.

“After ice cream?” Nanami asked and it felt like he was asking Gojo out. It was an insane, incomprehensible feeling considering how his day had started. How only ten minutes ago he was convinced Gojo would never care for him in a hundred years.

“You’re going?” Gojo’s eyebrows arched and his mouth curled pleasantly. Nanami caught himself looking at those lips, recalling how they tasted.

The memory wasn’t enough. He needed one more to last him. Needed it to remind him what had happened in the hall was real.

Nanami nudged his nose against Gojo’s. He met no resistance as he leaned in further until their lips met. This was slow and intentional. Both committed the feeling to memory. The soft press was punctuated by the sweet pop of their separation.

“If you are, then yes,” Nanami answered.

They gave each other no room as they shifted to let Nanami leave the bathroom. They pressed and rubbed together, neither ready to be the first to break this new closeness they had gained. Eventually, Nanami was forced to do the last thing he wanted and pull away from Gojo’s body.

The bathroom door closed behind him. He held onto his towel and took a deep breath. He felt the need for a shower all over again. Such a damn hot day.