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Apraxia of speech was what Inumaki Toge was diagnosed with at three years old.
Of course, he’d been too young to understand what that meant back then. Anything about him not being able to coordinate movements of speech went right over his head. For his sake, it was dumbed down to the fact that he couldn’t talk. He tried anyways, despite being told that, to no success; Over and over, his mouth moved to try to form even simple words, but he couldn’t get the movements to land right. He would always land his tongue in the wrong spot or move his lips wrong so the vowels came out sounding like something else.
Other children weren’t kind about his attempts. Every time his voice failed him, that his uncoordinated jaw made him sound like he was babbling rather than trying to say real words, he was laughed at and ridiculed. Some would pretend to be his friend just to see the spectacle of him trying to talk. They would point and laugh behind his back, making fun of him when he wasn’t looking, and it would always take him a while to figure it out. Others would be more open about it, pointing at him openly and mocking him or even being more physical with it. It wasn’t like Toge could tell anyone, they would always say — It would come out sounding like a slurred mess that no one could make out.
It wasn’t until he was around seven years old he stopped trying to speak entirely. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be able to, he just hated all the issues that came with it. He started refusing to go to speech therapy, only talking through writing notes and through easily understood gestures like nods and pointing. A part of him hoped that it would stop the bullying, would make people leave him alone. After all, he wasn’t doing the thing people found so worth mockery anymore. What reason would they have to make fun of him?
Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. Apparently, being almost completely silent one hundred percent of the time put a target on his back, too. People would think of him as weird or creepy for never speaking. He still got called stupid and slow (or, as he grew older, the word retarded got thrown around more and more). Rumors would spread about him staring at people or stalking them, especially the girls in his class. Since he wouldn’t talk, people felt safe using him as a punching bag for their stresses. People didn’t mock the sound of his voice anymore, sure, but they still saw him as a freak and treated him awfully for that.
When he was ten, it was driven home: No one could really love him the way he was. His parents cared for him, sure, but they surely wished for a child who could speak like any other. People his age looked at him like something disgusting. Adults outside of his family looked at him with nothing but pity. No one looked at him like he was precious, like a friend, like something they would keep forever and would never change. No matter where he went, he felt like something was missing. If he couldn’t speak, he would always be left without the connections everyone else took for granted.
Toge would just had to accept it. He would be alone, or at least close to it.
“Awwww, lil’ Yuu-Yuu is growing up so fast, all ready for his first day of high school! That uniform makes you look so nice! Smile for daddy, we’re taking a photo!”
Yuuta, who had been sliding on his shoes, glanced at his guardian with a small, exasperated smile. He had been under the care of his guardian, Gojo Satoru, for about three months now, so he had started to get used to his… quirks. (Though, he wasn’t sure how well he could call them that when so much of Satoru’s personality was made up of “quirks”.) It had been overwhelming right after his parents lost custody and Yuuta was thrown into Gojo’s, but it had become background noise now. Though, he only lived with Satoru part-time during those three months, spending a lot of his time in an apartment funded by Satoru alone so he didn’t have to move in the midst of a semester. Living with him full-time now definitely increased the level of… well, everything.
“Satoru, it’s not my first day, I was at my old high school last semester—” Yuuta began.
“C’moooon, that doesn’t matter! Just one picture—!”
Satoru was cut off firmly by a plastic fork hitting the back of his head, having been thrown from the dining room table. He rubbed the spot that had been struck, frowning. One glance back led to the culprit, a tired looking boy with messy black hair.
“Quit it, Satoru,” Megumi grumbled, rubbing his eye. “You’re being loud.”
“Huuuh? You should be more respectful to your elders, Mekkun. I am your father—” Satoru began with a broad, shit-eating grin.
“You ain’t the father of shit,” Megumi scoffed, returning to his breakfast of omurice. “Let Okkotsu go in peace.”
Before Satoru and Megumi could start pressing each others’ buttons (one of them with much more playful intentions than the other), Yuuta put up his hand and waved goodbye. “Uhhh, I’ll see you when I’m back!” And with that, he slid out the door like a snake escaping through some rocks, following the path to the high school he was now enrolled in. They had waited until Yuuta finished out his semester at his old high school before reenrolling him in a new one in Tokyo, at least, so Yuuta didn’t have to deal with being dropped into all of this in the midst of transferring during midterms or something equally dreadful.
His new school, Jujutsu Technical High School, had been chosen by Satoru, who provided a recommendation to help him into the school. It was the one Satoru himself had graduated from, and it apparently created a lot of great career opportunities for people. Satoru, despite his silly attitude, only provided the best for his charges. Yuuta had only been slightly above average of a student before, so he wasn’t sure how he’d fare. It would definitely be a big adjustment. Still, Satoru was the only reason he had a roof above his head and food to eat right then, so he’d have to try his best at it. Even if he was an average person, he’d have to man up and do something extraordinary to be able to thank Satoru for all the resources he put into him.
Yuuta nodded to himself, his goals set in stone as he approached the school’s gates. He wasn’t ever the most resilient guy, but he’d have to learn.
“Oh, and there will be a new student joining us this semester.”
Toge tuned back into the beginning-of-semester housekeeping his homeroom teacher, Miss Nakayama, was doing. He had been spacing out through most of it, bored out of his mind by the drone of her voice. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to stay engaged, really, she just had one of those voices that put people straight to sleep.
A new student. It was irregular, to say the least. Jujutsu Technical High School was a pretty high-standards sort of place, only accepting up to 40 students through entrance exams and 10 through recommendations total each year. Sometimes, it was even less. It would take a lot to be able to get to transfer in midway through the year. It would have to be a very strong recommendation — Perhaps as strong as people like Zen’in Mai, who had one of the richest and famous families in the country. Toge couldn’t imagine what sort of person that could be.
Of course, the other students around him were thinking the same thing and immediately began gossiping. Some tried to theorize who could be backing him, others to guess their gender or what they would look like. A few were gossiping about what vocational path he’d be going for later on, a thing JTHS implemented in second year to put students on a path to success in a given career field early on. The rumor mill would be shut down by the door sliding open, announcing the arrival of the new student.
“Please introduce yourself,” Nakayama said politely, stepping to the side to give room at the blackboard for the boy to stand.
“Ummm, I’m Okkotsu Yuuta… a pleasure to meet everyone…” His voice was a bit quiet, but it managed to carry through the hush of the room. He wrote his name on the board as he spoke, the kanji a tad messy.
Okkotsu didn’t look particularly impressive on the outside. His dark hair was messy and disheveled, as if he wasn’t much for caring for himself, and his eyes had dark circles that made it look like he had been tossing and turning all night before now. He stood at a pretty average height and his frame wasn’t too beyond the average, either — Not too skinny or weak looking, but certainly no body-builder. He looked like he could be a runner, maybe, with the slenderness that he carried. The only stand-out thing about him was the color of his eyes, a deep blue that mimicked the night sky.
A lot of the guys were quickly disappointed to find that the new addition to the class wasn’t a girl and immediately dropped their attention after the introduction. The girls seemed to have mixed feelings, meanwhile. Okkotsu didn’t seem to particularly take either reaction to heart — Or, if he did, he was used to it.
“Please, take the seat beside Inumaki,” Nakayama said. “Seat three.”
Okkotsu nodded, approaching the seat. He hesitated before giving Toge a shy smile. “Umm, nice to meet you…”
Toge, of course, didn’t say anything. Besides his inability to, he didn’t see a good result possibly coming from it if he passed a note. Either Okkotsu caught onto the fact right away he couldn’t speak and made fun of him for it, or he was nice enough not to voice his discomfort and people started picking on him, too. Neither option sounded good in his mind, so he kept his head down.
Okkotsu furrowed his brow at the lack of reply, but he didn’t have time to say anything like Toge expected he would before Nakayama began talking again.
Yuuta’s immediate thought the first few class periods was that his new seatmate didn’t like him. That was the most logical thing to guess from how he was ignored upon greeting him. He wouldn’t be the first person to dislike Yuuta, meek and awkward as he tended to be with new people. It seemed just to be a new point in a pattern that had continued throughout his junior high days and his first semester at his last high school. He took it to mean that he was likely to be an outcast again and left it at that — Social interaction was never his strong suit.
However, during lunch period, he noticed something else. Inumaki didn’t go with any of their classmates to sit on the roof or raid vending machines. He didn’t go over to different classes to talk to other people or move desks to talk to friends. No one tried to approach him, either. He didn’t even take out his phone to text someone while he ate. He just sat at his desk with his head down and pulled out his bento, eating in complete silence.
Maybe, just maybe, Inumaki was more similar to him? Maybe social anxiety made it hard for him to speak, or something along those lines. There was a chance he was simply asocial, but something in Yuuta didn’t quite believe that. So, despite his nerves, he reached into his bag, pulled out a spare piece of college-rule paper, and wrote out a message:
What did you get for lunch?
He then folded it in half twice and nudged it against Inumaki’s wrist, waiting for him to take it as anxiety made his heart race. There was a short, agonizing moment where Inumaki just stared at the paper, completely silent. Eventually, though, he took it, settling Yuuta’s heart from a speed that ran the risk of palpitations. Inumaki’s hands were careful as he unfolded it, trying to keep the paper from crinkling too much. His eyes flicked over the writing, taking it in quietly. Some thought process Yuuta didn’t understand flickered behind his eyes before he put the paper down on the desk and began to write. He passed it over to Yuuta after finishing it.
You shouldn’t talk to me, Okkotsu.
Yuuta blinked, drafted his reply, and passed it on. Why not? You seem nice enough.
There was a pause where Inumaki gnawed on his bottom lip, looking down at the note. When he sent back his reply, his handwriting was a bit more shaky than the first note. I’m not someone people like.
There were two implications in that statement: First, that there was a chance that some sort of bad reputation would get attached to Yuuta too by association; Second, that Yuuta would find something that he wouldn’t like about him. But they weren’t things that he particularly cared about. The first wouldn’t be too different from his old life, and the second, well, that was up for him to decide. And that was exactly what he wrote down: I’ll figure out myself if I like you. I don’t need to ask other people for that.
Inumaki blinked, his eyes dragging up to Okkotsu to stare at him. There was a long pause, his pencil making no move to scratch against the paper. A minute passed, two. Then, he smiled gently, writing once more.
I have salmon onigiri and pickled vegetables. How about you?
That sounds good. I got sausages and rice, I think.
From that day on, passing notes became a daily affair between the two boys. Whenever the teachers weren’t looking, too focused on the blackboard or a textbook they were reading, a folded paper would go between their seats to let them talk. Sometimes, it would be about the class itself — Clarifying questions about new formulas and the like. Most of the time, though, it was just idle chatter, small talk that let the two of them get to know each other a bit better.
Toge learned that Okkotsu liked shaving down erasers and using them to make kneaded ones, like the ones some professional artists used. He liked yamitsuki cabbage and disliked the fatty parts of meats, especially steaks. There was a girl he liked in his hometown when he was younger, but apparently she disappeared mysteriously a long time ago in a case Toge vaguely recalled from the news. He usually wore white clothes when not at school since it was his favorite color, and he lived with his guardian, the legendary JTHS graduate and polymath Gojo Satoru. That same man was the one who recommended Okkotsu to the school, which explained a lot on how he was able to join mid-year.
Toge told Okkotsu a lot, too. He wrote to him about his favorite games and movies, down to the nitty gritty details of his theories about different characters. He talked about how his favorite food was tuna mayo onigiri and how he was tired of getting fish eggs in bentos when he had to buy them from the local conbini due to lack of time to cook. Sometimes, he gave Okkotsu the names of mukbang videos he liked to they could talk about them. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever given someone so much information on himself. Or, rather, he never really had the chance. No one wanted to participate in small talk with someone who couldn’t talk in the first place.
At lunch, they would bring their seats together and write in a notebook together, putting it between their two desks so they could write at the same time while they ate. Sometimes, Okkotsu spoke out loud instead of writing while Toge kept using notes, but most times, he met him at his level. It was a nice thing. It made feel Toge feel less alone in his silence.
Still, a little voice was always worming away at his mind, telling him that Okkotsu would get tired of him soon enough, just like everyone else. Maybe he would start talking behind Toge’s back, or he would get tired of having to read written responses during every conversation, or he’d hear Toge make noise at some point and decide he thought that Toge was stupid because of that. It was scary to think about. Okkotsu was the first friend he’d really ever had. What would we have if he lost him? Would he just have to live with being alone all over again? He wasn’t sure how well he could go back, now that he knew what he was missing. What if Okkotsu started being mean to him too, and—?
“Hey, Inumaki, what’s this I got about clubs?” Okkotsu asked, interrupting Toge’s through spiral. The two of them had gone up to the roof to enjoy a cold juice they got from the vending machine.
Toge blinked, using his phone to type out a quick reply and show it to Okkotsu. About clubs?
Okkotsu nodded, handing the paper to Toge that he had been looking over. “Miss Nakayama handed it to me this morning.”
Toge took it with careful fingers and looked it over. It was a notice, telling Okkotsu about club-joining and providing him with a form to fill out. He tilted his head before typing, They’re talking about you still needing to sign up for a club. Have you not picked one yet?
“Needing to? I mean, I never went to clubs at my old school or in junior high, so…” Okkotsu scratched the side of his nose sheepishly, smiling a bit. Though during the time they’d been friends he’d gained some confidence in himself, he still had some of that same nervousness to him he had when he first transferred in. “I figured I’d just be a go-straight-home kid again.”
No, you can’t. It’s school policy that everyone has to pick up at least one club in order to further our resumes in the future and to work on a skill. It’s to keep us well-rounded and all.
“Huh, required clubs? Seriously? I didn’t realize schools could do that…” Okkotsu sighed, sliding down the fence that stood between the open air and the rooftop to sit down next to Toge. “What club are you a part of? Maybe I can join that.”
With a sheepish face, Toge hesitated. His hobby wasn’t embarrassing in itself, but it felt oddly so in this context. His fingers fumbled a bit across the buttons on his phone keyboard as he typed this time. The cooking and baking club.
“Oh, that’s cool…” Okkotsu sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m average at best at cooking, though… I’m not sure if I’d fit in with people who do it all the time. Do you plan to become a chef or something with that experience?”
No, probably not. It’s just a hobby. You do art some, right?
Okkotsu blinked before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I learned to make those kneaded erasers out of cheap ones because I kept running out. Surprised you remember that.”
Toge’s cheeks warmed at that. He wasn’t sure why, but being called out so bluntly on his attention made his heart skip a beat. Why don’t you join the art club? he typed out hurriedly, hoping that it would make the subject pass.
“Art club, huh…” Okkotsu rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not sure if I’m confident enough in it for that…”
It’s better to do something you like than anything. That way, you don’t feel like it’s a chore when you stay after.
“Mmmm… I think I get what you mean.” Okkotsu smiled at Toge. “Thanks, Inumaki.”
Toge looked away, his cheeks flaring brighter red. He typed quickly and pushed his phone in Okkotsu’s face in his flustered state. It’s nothing. We should get back to the classroom soon, break will be over in a bit.
“I’m home!” Yuuta called out, taking off his shoes. They fell to the floor of the entryway with a thud, landing next to a much larger pair that belonged to Satoru. (Being so tall meant having some pretty large feet.)
“Mmm…” A quiet sound came out from Inumaki, a way of saying thanks for having me without full words. He took off his shoes as well, placing them beside Yuuta’s.
“Welcome back, Yuu-Yuu~!” Satoru came out from around the corner, grinning broadly. He was currently decked out in a frilly apron (God only knew where he found it), a whisk dripping with chocolatey batter in his hand. “Oh, you brought a friend home?”
Inumaki stared for a moment, as if silently asking is this seriously Gojo Satoru? Yuuta couldn’t exactly blame him. He too had been taken aback by the absurdity of the man, one normally elusive and hiding away from the press. It took a certain amount of time for someone to become desensitized to it.
“This is Inumaki. He came over to study with me,” Yuuta introduced briefly. “Inumaki, this is Satoru.”
Inumaki gave a respectful bow of his head in greeting.
“Oh, don’t work yourselves too hard now. I’m making brownies, do you two want some?”
“And some tea, please,” Yuuta said before leading Inumaki up the stairs. There was a sound of fingers typing on a phone keyboard behind him as they walked, eventually punctuated with a phone memo passed to him.
He’s not like I would’ve guessed.
“You get used to it.”
I guess so. Still, with the way he talks, are you sure he’s the guardian and not the other way around?
Yuuta’s eyes flicked over the message before he began laughing a little, sliding open the door to his room. “You’ll have to meet the other boy who lives here, Megumi. He’d love to hear you say that.” He stepped aside to let Inumaki into the room first. The blond bowed his head appreciatively before walking inside.
Yuuta’s bedroom wasn’t the most colorful thing in the world. He had a couple of posters up on one of his walls, but otherwise, it was mostly just the essentials. Well, that and drawing supplies (including a big pile of erasers he made himself) on the desk, the one that was distinctly meant for him to be doing homework instead. He preferred being able to take up his shelves with things he used rather than random souvenirs. For some reason, he wished otherwise now. It suddenly felt embarrassing to have his room so bare. Why was that?
“Go ahead and make yourself at home. I’m going to make sure Satoru doesn’t need help with the tea stuff…” Yuuta mumbled hurriedly after a few awkward moments, a way of excusing himself.
“Mmmh,” Inumaki replied, oddly verbal that day. It had been a slow process for him to start making small noises at Yuuta like that, a more recent development in their friendship. Despite it being new, though, Yuuta could usually read what he meant by them. This one meant something like, Do you need my help?
“No, I got it. I’ll be back in a second.”
Inumaki nodded and, with that, Yuuta headed down the stairs. He took them two at a time, his nerves at a high. Why was he even anxious? There was no reason for him to be. Inumaki was his friend and they were just going to study together, that was all. Why would that be something worth getting nervous over? He needed to calm down desperately. His feet slapped against the tile as he entered the kitchen, peeping over Satoru’s shoulder.
“Is there anything I can do in here?” he asked. It looked like the brownies were already in the oven and only had a couple of minutes left to bake, so there wasn’t anything to do there, but…
Satoru blinked, tapping his chin before nodding. “Set up the plates and tea set on the tray for me while the water boils?”
“Sure.” Yuuta got up on his toes to reach the cabinet. Porcelain clinked together as he went through it, grabbing small plates and Satoru’s tea set from their spots on the shelves. He arranged them on the tray the way his mother used to do sometimes when he was a little kid, before things soured and he had to leave. “Hey, why did you start baking today, anyways? I didn’t tell you Inumaki would be coming over.”
“Mmmm… women’s intuition!”
“Are you transgender now?” Yuuta asked, tilting his head. It would be news to him
“Nope! I’m just simply so good at everything that I even picked up skills that should be impossible for a man to learn.” Satoru winked, removing the brownies from the oven.
“…right.” Yuuta put a potholder on the tray for Satoru to place the brownies on top of. With that and a knife to serve it to join it, the tray was set to be brought upstairs and enjoyed. He picked it up by the two wooden handles on the sides. “Thanks for the food, it looks good.”
Satoru grinned at the praise, nodding. “Have fun with your friend.”
“Why are you saying it like that?”
“Women’s—”
“I don’t think you know what that phrase means,” Megumi commented, having seemingly appeared out of thin air in the kitchen. He reached into a nearby cabinet to pull out some crackers to snack on. Yuuta startled, nearly dropping the tray. A small, high-pitched sound bubbled in his throat as he tried to correct his posture, landing him with a sore shoulder in the process. (He did, at least, save the food.)
Before Satoru could retort, Yuuta decided to take his leave and head upstairs away from the conversation. It seemed like the best route to take. If he got caught up in one of Satoru and Megumi’s “fights” (if they could be called that when they were mostly Satoru baiting Megumi — maybe Inumaki was right about Satoru secretly being a child), it would take him a while to make it back upstairs. It was just common sense he prioritized his guest over the everyday squabbling. After making it up the stairs, Yuuta pushed open the door with his shoulder, nodding to himself as though his reasoning was a work of genius.
His eyes met Inumaki’s lidded ones, who was now lounged out on Yuuta’s bed. He had taken off his uniform jacket and undone the first few buttons of his shirt, allowing him to relax better in the room. His long legs laid out across the bed as he read through a textbook, the fabric rumbled by the relaxed position. His light purple irises sparkled from behind the curtain of his eyelashes, beautiful in their intensity—
Yuuta shook his head to clear it, blushing wildly. His heart was racing at a mile a minute, feeling like it might burst out of his chest… What was wrong with him? What was possibly driving him to act like this, to feel this way? Inumaki was his friend, wasn’t he?
“I, uh, got our snacks,” he said, placing them down on the bedside table.
A few strokes of a pen against paper made a scratchy sound in Yuuta’s ear. Inumaki passed the note to Yuuta with gentle fingers. Thanks. He scooted over to make room for Yuuta on the bed so they could both sit next to each other there. The action felt intimate, making Yuuta’s heart leap into his throat.
Seriously, what was going on with him?
Toge flinched at the sting of rubbing alcohol against the scrapes on his hands.
The bullying had gone down some since Okkotsu became his friend since it made Toge less of an easy target. There was someone around now who could cry for help properly or might even be willing to fight back for all they knew. Therefore, it had been a little while since he had to deal with something like this, being injured in such a way. Okkotsu had gone out during an empty block to grab him and Toge some snacks from the conbini, a class having been canceled due to the teacher handling it having a sudden emergency.
While Okkotsu wasn’t there as something of a shield, even if he existed as such unintentionally, that gave his old bullies the chance to pounce again. And with so much pent up energy from a lack of a punching bag for so long, they hit harder than normal. He had ended up pushed to the ground and beat, obscenities thrown his way throughout it. They had come off it before Okkotsu could find him, meaning that it would end, like usual, in not being reported.
“Please don’t move around so much, it’s making it hard to clean it,” Okkotsu murmured, his warm hand wrapping around Toge’s tender wrist. It ached a bit upon the contact, though Toge did his best not to flinch. “You really just got this from a fall? Are you sure?”
That was the excuse he gave, a fall from the stairs. He didn’t want to make Okkotsu worry about bullies like that. So long as they stayed away when Okkotsu was around, he didn’t see a reason to get him involved. It would just wear him down and perhaps even make him resent Toge for putting him in a bad position. He picked up the notepad he was using to write messages and scribbled out: Yeah, a fall. The stairs outside aren’t safe at all, they should really renovate them.
“Right…” Okkotsu sighed. It was pretty clear he didn’t buy it. Still, he continued cleaning up Toge’s scrapes and bruises, gentle with him in his injured state. “If someone’s bothering you—”
Toge began rapidly shaking his head. “Mmmh! Mmmh!” I’m fine! Really!
“If you say so…” Toge wasn’t sure how Okkotsu managed to understand sounds like that as words from him, but it was a nice luxury. “You could tell me, though.”
The next few moments passed in silence, Okkotsu caring to Toge’s wounds without a single complaint. And Toge’s chest did something weird throughout the entire thing, tightening and warming up in an unfamiliar way…
Yuuta felt like someone was hammering at the inside of his skull as he laid in his bed. He groaned at the dull, throbbing ache. His hand laid over his face to try to block out some of the light in hopes that it would help the pain ease. It was a mistaken place to put his faith — The darkness did little to change anything. It was buildup of stress, not something like a migraine.
He knew the cause for it, of course. Since the incident with Inumaki getting hurt the week before, he hadn’t been able to stop worrying. It lingered through every moment of every day. He couldn’t get it off his mind while doing schoolwork, or while he tried to sleep, or when he went to clubs. A little voice kept pestering him, telling him something was wrong, that Inumaki was in trouble. He knew damn well that those wounds weren’t just from a fall, and he wasn’t sure why he was being lied to. What if something like that happened again?
“Knock, knock,” Satoru said, notably not actually knocking as he opened the door to Yuuta’s room. “You missed dinner, so I brought your plate up here… Might be a bit chilly, though!”
“Yeah…” Yuuta said thoughtlessly, staring up at the ceiling. The sound of a plate clinking against wood sounded as the meal was placed on his desk.
“You haven’t seemed this depressed since before you started at Jujutsu Tech,” Satoru noted, looking over him.
“I’m fine.”
Satoru hummed. “Yes, I’m sure perfectly fine people miss my amazing karaage dinners.” He sat at the foot of Yuuta’s bed, tilting his head. “Something happen with your friend?”
Yuuta stiffened.
“Knew it.”
“How did you—? Never mind.” (Satoru still hadn’t given up the women’s intuition bit.) “He got hurt.”
“Huh? Did he need to go to the hospital?” Satoru blinked. “If you told me, I would’ve given the money to help out a bit.”
“No, nothing like that…”
“If it was just a few bumps and bruises, then what’s the issue?”
That was a good question. What was the issue? The bruises and scrapes had looked really bad when Yuuta was dealing with them, but they were healing fast. There weren’t any broken bones, the worst of the injuries being a sprained ankle, the bruising had just been pretty severe. Yuuta himself wasn’t completely sure. “I mean, he’s my friend, so…”
“I mean, you and Mekkun consider yourselves friends, right? I’ve never seen you lose this much sleep over him.”
Yuuta sat up a bit at the realization. Satoru wasn’t wrong at all. He and Megumi did get close over the months they spent together under Satoru’s custody, and he frequently got hurt because he’d end up working too hard or getting into fights. He’d never worried this hard over Megumi’s injuries, even when they were of similar severity. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, not in the least — He did always worry some at least and helped patch Megumi up if Satoru wasn’t around — but it wasn’t nearly the same. “I… yeah.” He furrowed his brow. “Why would it be different?”
“Well…” Satoru poked Yuuta’s nose. “Think about how you feel about Mekkun and how you think about Inumaki. Are they the same?”
“No,” Yuuta said immediately, not having to even think about it. “I-I’m not sure why, but…”
“Are you sure that guy is just a friend?” Satoru rested his chin on the heel of his palm. “I mean, if it’s not like what you feel for your friends, what is it more like?”
It clicked then, because the feeling wasn’t completely unfamiliar. It was similar for what he felt for Rika way back when he was a kid, back before she disappeared. The stuttering heart, the heat in his cheeks, the way Inumaki made him smile, it all lined up with the feelings he had back then. It had just been so long since he felt that way for a person, he’d forgotten…
“Oh.” Yuuta swallowed, unsure what to do with that.
“Go for it,” Satoru said, as though reading Yuuta’s mind. He put a hand on Yuuta’s shoulder with a self-assured grin. “You’ve got this, Yuu-Yuu~ To think your first boyfriend will be a boy in your class—!”
Ah, it seemed the time for insightful Satoru was over. Yuuta shrugged off Satoru’s hand with a nod. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, blushing. “Stop it.”
“Awww, don’t be shy!”
“I’m not being shy…”
Satoru giggled, his smile smug as ever.
“And… Thanks for the advice, Satoru. I’m going to eat now, I feel a lot better.”
Toge had noticed Okkotsu acting strange lately.
At first, he figured it was just because of seeing him being injured. It was fair enough — It was a brutal looking sight, so he couldn’t exactly blame him for being a bit concerned after the fact. It was two weeks now since, though, and most of his injuries were gone, yet Okkotsu was still acting strange. He was more avoidant, more worried about touch, suddenly becoming flustered at certain things. A part of Toge’s mind wondered if he finally did it, finally made someone as sweet as Okkotsu dislike him somehow. He wasn’t sure what exactly he did that would have done that, but it seemed like the right answer.
And when he got a text message between blocks saying We need to talk, meet me on the roof from Okkotsu after he’d fled the room in favor of the bathroom, he figured it was over. He was about to get dumped, just like he feared from day one. He knew he shouldn’t be so disappointed, not when he expected this from the beginning. However, it felt like a stab to the chest. It was like the most precious thing thing in his life was being ripped away under his feet. What would he do with Okkotsu gone?
With a heavy heart, he went up to the roof, a notebook in hand out of habit. His feet dragged on each step, his fingers feeling like they’d cramp as they worked the door handle…
“Inumaki…”
Okkotsu was waiting on a bench, a hand up to greet Toge. He looked way too kind right then for the situation. Toge swallowed and went to sit next to him, fidgeting with the notebook.
There was a moment of fidgeting, Okkotsu clearly nervous. Then, a note was passed to him for him to read. Whatever was on it was likely the message he meant to pass in person. This was it, the moment that Toge had been dreading…
I like you.
Toge’s brain stalled. There was no way he could mean— “Mmmmh?!”
Okkotsu scratched the side of his nose sheepishly, a shy smile on his face as he glanced away. “U-uh…” He took up another piece of paper and scibbled down for emphasis: Not as a friend.
Toge quickly began to write out his response in his notebook before passing it along. You’re lying.
Okkotsu blinked. Why would I be lying about that?
I don’t know, but you are. Or you’re pretending so much you fooled yourself, or something. It’s not possible.
Okkotsu frowned, his next strokes against the paper very insistent. I’m not pretending.
You have to be.
Why?
I can’t even talk, Okkotsu. Why would you like me? No one likes me. I’m slow and stupid and—
His writing was cut off by a hand on his wrist. Yuuta shook his head. “You’re not those things. You’re really smart, and you’re funny, and you’re a strong person, and you’re kind. I can’t imagine not liking you.”
“G-gh?” Toge’s eyes widened.
Before he could try to make any other sounds to protest, though, Yuuta kissed him, and the thoughts of how he couldn’t be loved fell away.