#all yuuta haters can suck my peepee

[pileofmush]

cw: short. hopeful angst? not-so-vague jjk 261 spoilers. a/n: fuck it we move (i wrote this in a state of misery).

You’ve not one to be superstitious, but. There is something about him that makes you question your interpretation of reality. In the reflection of his wide, beady eyes, you see visions of yourself—crumpled, on the floor. A shadow of a shadow. Reduced to a something that is less and worse than nothing.

What could it be, but love? Reflected in his pitch black eyes?

It is certain, then. You can either leave. Disappear. Run until you reach a place where no one knows you and no one can find you and you are no one. Or you can stay. And watch yourself be nourished, then starved.

It is too bad that you don’t ever listen to your gut.

The notion approaches you when you’re in the midst of walking to the supermarket. It’s cloudy and cold, and the wind makes you feel like a brittle wafer. One crack and you’re done.

Yuuta walks beside you, even though the pace you set is slow. You pretend not to notice his nervous glances at you, quick and needy. Just like he pretends not to notice your longer, more appreciative stares whenever you forget yourself.

But can he blame you? He looks quite striking in his black wool coat. There’s a healthy pink glow resting just above his cheekbones. It’s cute. And his hair’s a bit messy, black strands falling loosely out of its natural parting, like he’s run a hand through it a few times.

Yes, he’s nervous alright. But when is he not nervous? And when do you care what he’s feeling, anyway?

It’s only a few moments later when he’s crouched before you, kneeling in the middle of the sidewalk, deft fingers reaching for your ratty, untied laces, that you realize how in deep you are.

“What are you doing?” You ask, just to ask.

It does not bother him. “Your shoe,” he says quietly, then he looks up at you and smiles. “Let me tie it for you.”

Yes, you’re in deep. You don’t utter a peep as Yuuta works quietly at your sneaker, then unlaces your other shoe and starts retying that. Foot-traffic swerves around you both, but you don’t have it in you to be sorry. Fuck. This was not in your plans, and yet—

When he’s done, he tells you so and runs a hand lightly up and down your calf.

You blank.

“Sorry, was that too much?”

Yuuta’s feminine voice brings back you back to your senses. He’s biting his bottom lip in worry, you note, though he seems reluctant to let go of your leg. He’s started tapping mindlessly against it, seemingly in thought. You don’t mind. You’re really pondering some thoughts of your own, such as how often he gnaws his lips. If they’d feel chapped against your own. If he ever accidentally draws blood.

“No, not too much.” You eventually reply, and then unwisely, you add, “Perhaps…not enough.”

And there is a sick, sharp sound of a lock slotting into place. The final snap of a coffin lid. You just might be doomed. But then, Yuuta tilts his head, hands tightening reflexively, and you really can’t find it within yourself to care.

So what.

So what if your intuition cries thick hot tears. So what if you see the worst in his haunting eyes.

Surely, you can take it. Surely, he is worth it.

For he is kind. Far too kind for his own good, maybe. And pretty. And he makes himself small, for you. And he smells like petrichor. Or lavender. One of the two.

.

You’ll regret it. Maybe. But not today.

You are not superstitious, but. The day you fall for Okkotsu Yuuta, you light a thin candlestick in the dark and allow yourself the space to mourn.

ty for reading T-T