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The hand on his shoulder is firm, assured even.
The transfer student leans down slightly so they're at the same eye level and Mishima's sight immediately falls to the floor. He slumps down, trying his best to be as small and non-threatening as possible.
Dark emotions explode one after another like fireworks in his brain - hatred for the transfer student's prying, anger at Sakamoto for dredging all of this up in the first place, fear that he won't be able to keep it bottled any longer and what that'll mean for his next "special coaching" session.
But foremost among these is bitter self-loathing.
High school was supposed to be his chance to escape who he had been his whole life; it was supposed to be his chance to claim the self-confidence that he had always dreamed of. He was going to leave Yuuki Mishima, the zero, the butt of every joke, in the past where he belonged and never look back.
Yet here he was.
His second year of high school and he found himself in the same exact position as before, only far worse.
The transfer student is speaking again, his tone measured, careful, and coaxing. However, the only word that manages to break through the wall Mishima has thrown up around himself is a name: Kamoshida.
He sinks further into himself, his posture slumping even more.
Feel nothing.
Don't make a sound.
It'll be over soon.
When he gives no response, the hand on his shoulder squeezes him lightly and he can't help but wince as a multitude of bruises remind him exactly what will happen if he dares to stand up for himself. In a panic now, he slaps the transfer student's hand away and takes several steps backwards, the distance making him feel instantly more at ease. Better to not be seen with him, better to stay away, better to not make friends that'll ask too many questions.
Better to mitigate the pain as soon as possible.
"Stop asking me about this! There's nothing you can do! Leave me alone!"
The absent-minded weight of the Phantom Thieves' leader leaning against him is soothing somehow.
Mishima knew, just knew, that this was his one real chance to make it big. After all, it wasn't every day you had a band of Phantom Thieves not only promise to steal the heart of a rotten adult, but actually deliver on it. Furthermore, his school was the epicenter of it all. Real-life heroes of justice were just within his grasp!
And the Phan-Site was his ticket in.
He approaches their leader after school, hands slightly shaky and unsure as he steps up to his desk. He had spent so long avoiding him, afraid of what associating with him would mean, afraid of the hatred that would assuredly come for him leaking information about his criminal record online. There was zero assurance that he would even speak with him, let alone go along with the scheme he had cooked up.
But Mishima had to try - he had to - if only because he knew this was his one shot.
Proudly, he displays the Phan-Site talking about all the ways he can help, all the ways he can be of use. He doesn't have to be included in the group - even just being on the outskirts will be enough.
The Phantom Thieves' leader looks at him, his face as nonplussed as it always is. For one sinking second, he entertains the possibility that he is mistaken, that he really was only a transfer student caught up in unfortunate circumstances. But it just didn't make any sense. He had been so insistent on taking down Kamoshida, on rescuing everyone from his clutches. He had to be a member.
No, not only a member, he had to be their leader. The way he was so calm, even in the face of expulsion or the hundreds of other punishments Kamoshida could have doled out to him, the knack he had for knowing when to let Sakamoto run amok and when it was time to take a more calculated approach; someone as cool as that just couldn't be anything less than the fearless, infallible leader.
As the two of them continue to stand there, Mishima's cellphone still extended in his hand as he waits for an answer, he feels his head swim with anticipation. Instead of saying anything, the leader of the Phantom Thieves smiles slightly and for Mishima that's all it takes for it to be a resounding 'yes'. He finds himself grinning from ear to ear as he eagerly begins to show off all the features he's already added to the site and everything more he plans to do in the future. The Phantom Thieves' leader leans against him as he looks over Mishima's shoulder at his phone screen.
One of the still-lingering bruises on Mishima's side protests even this gentle pressure, but he's quick to dismiss it. No way is a little pain going to steal this once-in-a-lifetime chance to make a name for himself. He'll do whatever it takes to prove just how useful he can be, no matter the cost.
"I promise, I'll help however I can. So you can count on me as the Phantom Thieves' PR Manager!"
The assured grip of Kurusu's hand on his elbow as he helps him up from the ground is strong and steady.
Mishima can already feel the heat of embarrassment coursing through his body as he tries to dismiss it with a forced laugh. He can't even run away right. But then again, that's what the entirety of Mishima's life has been: falling and failing. The only real different this time is there's someone to help him up instead of laugh at him. As Kurusu's hand remains steady on his elbow, guiding him to a place where he can sit down, Mishima can't find it in himself to shake off his touch.
He's already made enough of an idiot of himself for one night, there's no need to make it worse.
As he sits down on the railing, he makes a point of staring down at his feet instead of Kurusu as he apologizes once again. He had called him to Inokashira Park, fully prepared to end it all, to run away from the terrible ways he had been using the Phantom Thieves for his own gain since the very beginning. If necessary, he was ready to avoid Kurusu for the rest of his life. Whatever it took to make amends, he was willing to do it.
Instead, he got a face plant and those steady hands guiding him back.
And for the first time, Mishima feels the telltale pang of something more.
It was just a weird stuttering in his chest when Kurusu looked at him. A weird stuttering that only intensified when he told him that he could keep running the Phan-Site, that he wasn't a burden and a failure. From anyone else, Mishima would have thought these were only flowery platitudes, meant to get something out of him. However, coming from Kurusu, these words felt so genuine and Mishima knew he would work himself to the bone to hear him say something like that again.
But more powerful than his words was the smile Kurusu gives. Gentle, reassuring, and startling in its level-headedness - it's a smile that makes Mishima feel like everything will be alright.
It's a smile, Mishima realizes with sudden clarity, that he is in love with.
The thought makes his entire body flush as he bids Kurusu goodnight and runs off to catch his train home. With every bump and sway of the train, he feels his emotions and thoughts jangle together.
Over and over again his brain conjures the image of Kurusu's smile, silently testing if the momentary stuttering of his heart was just a one-time mistake.
Over and over again he feels that hot flush burn through him as all coherent thought escapes him. All he can think about is Kurusu's smile and how nice it would be to kiss that smile and fall back together into bed with him, and-
Mishima gives a physical shake of his head to dislodge the end of that thought as quickly as possible. Desperately, he pulls up the Phan-Site, hoping it will help to bring his thoughts back to public relations matters, but it only agitates the hammering in his chest until it seems strong enough to bruise his ribs. His brain is quick to abandon business and impose increasingly fantastical scenarios, all involving kissing Kurusu.
Unbidden, his fingers linger on his elbow, gently tracing the memory of his touch.
"There's no way...there's absolutely no way..."
The brush of his best friend's fingers against his own is brief, gentle, and agonizing.
A part of Mishima wants to scream, to blurt out the truth. He wants to yell in the middle of the restaurant that he wants to be more than just best friends and he doesn't care who hears him or what they think. Instead of giving in to such a bold desire, he retracts his hand from the buzzer to call the waitress and mumbles a lame apology into his shoulder.
He had invited his best friend out to dinner because, well, that was what he had always done when he wanted to talk about the Phantom Thieves. But as he gives their order to the waitress, Mishima realizes that something like this could easily be considered a date.
...Couldn't it?
The thought causes Mishima to flush again as he hands over his menu. Ever since that night at Inokashira Park, he's found it increasingly difficult to be around his best friend, particularly when they're alone. They would be having a normal conversation about school or the Phantom Thieves and then he would say his name in a particular way or there would be something different about his laugh, and Mishima would be gone. Desperate to keep the conversation going like normal, he would try to act like his heart wasn't going a mile a minute or the only thought on his mind wasn't 'I love you', but he knew it was a losing battle.
Every time they hung out together, the words got closer and closer to escaping no matter what he did.
Despite his growing apprehension, he tries to make this dinner a normal one, to keep it focused on the Phantom Thieves and the Phan-Site. However, as the evening wears on, conversation turns from PR Manager and leader to friends and Mishima can tell his feelings are dangerously close to slipping.
For some reason, when his best friend stand up from the booth and Mishima sees his back, he can't take it any more. The stress is crushing him and if he doesn't say something now, he's going to explode. Blindly, he grabs his hand, clinging desperately to the contact and the emotions it send shooting throughout his body. He knows he's crushing his hand strong enough to leave a bruise, but Mishima can't bring himself to lighten his grip, even in the slightest.
His best friend turns to look at him and his mouth goes dry, the torrent of emotions evaporating in a matter of milliseconds.
But then he smiles and the flood comes back ten times stronger than ever.
"P-P-Please go out with me! Please be my boyfriend!"
The gentle wrap of arms around his waist and the feel of his boyfriend's chin resting on his shoulder is warm and accepting.
Mishima can't help but be flustered by an intimacy that he still hasn't quite gotten used to despite it being about a month or so. Even the word "boyfriend" still feels strangely foreign and yet enticing whenever the thought crosses his mind. They're boyfriends now, they're dating. He had prepared himself for rejection, so finding himself with a boyfriend to spend Christmas Eve with still feels like a dream.
Distractedly, he gives his boyfriend a quick peck on the cheek without removing his eyes from the handheld game he's playing.
In response, he feels the arms wrapped around his waist grip him tighter and there's an undercurrent of something that Mishima can't quite place. Desperation? Uncertainty? Fear? Hesitation?
For a moment, Mishima wants to laugh. After the grand finale of the Phantom Thieves that he had just been regaled with, it's hard to imagine him being that weak and vulnerable, no matter the circumstances. However, as Mishima feels him bury his face into his shoulder, he knows something's wrong.
He shuts off the game and begins to rub his boyfriend's hands in what he hopes are soothing circles. Patiently, he waits for him to be the one to broach the subject as the two of them sit in silence, the gentle hum of the space heater the only sound in the attic.
Mishima feels his boyfriend shift behind him and he can't suppress a squeak of surprise as his neck is peppered with quick kisses. Heat rises to his cheeks and a combination of nerves and pleasure makes him squirm gently as the kisses dip to his shoulders.
He's used to bruises. He knows what to say and do when someone's out to hurt him. But these feather light kisses are an unknown and as he sinks into his boyfriend's arms, he's surprised to find the two of them falling back into bed together. However, the kisses are cut off abruptly as his boyfriend pulls the covers over their heads, cocooning the both of them in a suffocating warmth.
Now that he's had a taste of those light, tingling kisses, Mishima can't help but want more.
Eagerly, he turns around to face his boyfriend, but the heady rush fades at the look he's giving him. His eyes are clouded, his smile strained, the weight of everything he's gone through this past year seeming to settle on him all at once. Mishima can't help but blink dumbly several times at this striking vulnerability. In that moment he's no hero of justice, no fearless leaders - he's just another high school student swept up in a world he has no control of.
Mishima wants to ask what's wrong, to ease whatever his fears may be, but his boyfriend pulls him into a tight embrace that Mishima can tell means he's not allowed to. This is something that'll have to wait until another day. Feeling suddenly powerless, he snuggles into the embrace, returning it with as much reassurance as he can muster. No matter what happens, he'll always be at his side.
"Go to bed for now. I'll still be here in the morning. We can talk then."
He knows he's kissing Akira with far more force than necessary, but he can't stop himself.
Mishima relishes the feel of Akira's body against his own, the scent of him, the very tangible existence that is Akira. No glass wall that separates them, no guard waiting outside the door, no stark-white visitation room walls. The two of them are back in the Leblanc attic and it's Valentine's Day and he can kiss him to make up for all the time the conviction stole away from them.
He continues to push his lips against Akira's with bruising force, begging for more. It's greedy and unfair and he knows it, but Akira kisses back, his demeanor as calm as ever, as if he hasn't spent the last several months in juvenile hall. Mishima would take more time to revel in that impressive composure, but he has an agenda this evening and he intends to see it through.
This time, he's the one to pull Akira into the bed, desperately kissing all the way.
As his hands begin to explore the contorts of the body beneath him, he finally pulls away breathlessly from their kiss. His mind is foggy and flush as he looks down at the now distinctly disheveled Akira. It's a side of him Mishima's never seen before and he knows he won't be satisfied until he sees more.
Tomorrow he'll think about how Akira's leaving. Tomorrow he'll think about how they'll make a long distance relationship work out. Tomorrow he'll come to terms with reality.
Tonight, however, belongs to this moment alone.
"I love you...Akira...I always will."