Chapter Text
When it all began: a single glance.
He’s so beautiful, is Itadori Yuuji’s first thought when he sees that lonesome, downtrodden boy seated at the back of the class. His eyes are fixed at the front of the classroom, though his gaze is distant.
Okay. In Yuuji’s defence, it’s just that the boy stood out so much, it was hard not to notice.
“Class, this is Itadori Yuuji. He’s transferred here from Sendai. Make sure you help him settle in.”
Yuuji grins automatically, bright and easy, the kind that wins people over before he’s even said anything. “Nice to meet you!” he chirps.
There’s a murmur of greetings, a few curious looks, a couple of impressed whispers. He catches words like athletic and cute and looks strong floating around, but his attention keeps snagging persistently on the boy at the back. He hasn’t looked up once.
Hmm. He’ll have to change that. Yuuji wants to be amicable with everyone.
“Take the empty seat there,” the teacher says, pointing at the desk right in front of the pretty boy. Nice.
Yuuji saunters over and slides into the chair, dropping his bag with a soft thud, and for a second, he hesitates. He half-turns to casually glance at the boy behind him.
The boy’s hair falls into his face, dark and soft-looking, shadowing eyes that flick up in surprise when he realises Yuuji is looking directly at him. They’re a strange colour—grey, maybe? Or something lighter, like storm clouds before rain. There’s a softness to his features that doesn’t match the tension in his shoulders.
Pretty, yeah.
Yuuji beams. “Hey.”
The boy startles, like he wasn’t expecting to be addressed at all. His lips part slightly, then press together. “…Hi.”
His voice is soft and soothing, mellow like honey. He’s not really sure if honey is the right word to describe it, but Yuuji’s thinking of sweet stuff and the boy is sweet.
Yuuji opens his mouth to say something else—what, he doesn’t know—but the teacher claps their hands and the moment snaps in half.
“Alright, settle down.”
*
How it all began: a refusal to look away.
By lunch, Yuuji has already been claimed. A group gathers around his desk, and Yuuji’s already well aware that these folks are the popular bunch of the school.
“Oi, Itadori, you play any sports?” one asks.
“You’ve definitely got the build for rugby.”
“No way, basketball suits him more.”
They talk over each other, laughing, nudging his shoulders like they have known him for years instead of hours. It is familiar enough that Yuuji slips into it without effort, scratching the back of his head with a sheepish grin.
“I mean, I’m down to try anything,” Yuuji admits. It’s not a lie; he’s proud to admit that he’s great at sports, the best actually. Not to toot his own horn or anything—Gramps would definitely whack him over the head if he heard.
“That’s what we like to hear,” one of them says, clapping him on the back.
“Come hang out with us after school. We usually hit the arcade or grab something to eat.”
“Yeah, we’ll show you around properly.”
Yuuji is already nodding before he fully thinks it through. “Sure.”
“Just don’t waste your time on the wrong people.” The comment cuts in smoothly, almost joking, but there is something underneath it that makes Yuuji pause. It sounds a bit like a warning, and that grates on his nerves.
Yuuji tilts his head slightly. “What do you mean?”
One of them jerks his chin toward the back of the classroom, not bothering to lower his voice.
“That guy.”
Another snorts. “Total loser. Doesn’t talk to anyone, just sits there being creepy.”
“Pretty sure something’s wrong with him.”
A round of ugly laughter from the three boys ensues. Yuuji’s smile does not disappear, but he knows it’s grown mocking and bitter.
He takes a moment to glance back at the quiet boy behind him. Okkotsu Yuuta, he recalls now, is sitting exactly as he was before. His head is down and his hands are folded neatly on his desk. There is neither any visible reaction nor any sign that he has heard any of it.
That, more than anything, is what bothers Yuuji. It looks like he is used to it. There’s nothing Yuuji hates more than bullies and those who pick on the weak.
“Hey,” one of the jerks nudges him. “You’re not actually going to hang around him, right?”
Yuuji turns back to the group before him, looking at them all with disdain.
“I said I’d hang out with you, didn’t I?” Yuuji begins.
The group relaxes visibly. “Knew you’d get it,” one of them cheers.
“But that doesn’t mean you get to decide who I talk to,” Yuuji concludes.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Yuuji shrugs, like it is nothing serious at all. “You called him a loser. I don’t really like that.”
One of them scoffs. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re taking it personally.”
“I’m not,” Yuuji replies breezily as he leans back in his chair. Then he adds, just as casually, “I just think you’re being assholes.”
There’s silence for a few moments, and Yuuji watches with satisfaction as their ugly faces drop.
“Say that again.”
Yuuji rolls his eyes. “You’re being—”
One of the guys lunges a fist at him, and Yuuji catches it without thinking, his grip firm enough to stop the motion completely. He didn’t even get to finish his sentence! Talk about poor manners! A scolding from his grandpa would definitely do the trick.
“You sure you want to do this?” Yuuji asks, colouring his voice with mock disappointment.
“Let go of me,” the coward growls.
Another student swings at him from the side. Yuuji ducks, the punch barely missing his cheek, and exhales through his nose exasperatedly.
“Alright,” Yuuji says with the hint of a sigh in his voice, “if you insist.”
The situation escalates in seconds.
Chairs scrape loudly against the floor, desks shift out of place, and someone yells for them to stop, though no one actually listens. A fist comes at Yuuji and he blocks it cleanly, returning the hit with a force that sends the other boy stumbling back.
Another lunges forward. Yuuji pivots, hooks his leg, and slams him to the ground with a solid impact that knocks the breath out of him.
Within minutes, the three of them are down, groaning and clutching various injuries. There’s a crowd watching them, a few having the audacity to record as well. Well, he supposes that’s not too bad. Bullies should be taught a lesson! A public one at that. This shit wouldn’t happen on his watch anymore.
Yuuji rolls his shoulder, exhaling slowly as he watches the injured boys. “You guys okay?” he asks, and there is a frustrating amount of sincerity in his voice.
They obviously ignore him, though it’s obvious they’re baffled. Yuuji hasn’t switched up, just for the record. He just firmly believes that everyone is capable of making meaningful change in their lives.
Unfortunately, that is when the teacher storms in. When he turns back to look at Okkotsu, he’s a little disappointed to see that he’s vanished.
*
The principal’s office is quiet in a way that feels heavier than the classroom ever did.
“Fighting on your first day is certainly a choice,” the principal says, clearly unimpressed.
Yuuji sits with his hands resting on his knees, looking more apologetic than he actually feels. “They kind of started it.”
“And you chose to escalate it.”
“…Yeah, that’s fair.”
“If this happens again, you will be suspended.”
“I understand.”
“You are to go home for the rest of the day.”
Yuuji nods and stands, stretching slightly as he does. “Sorry about the trouble.”
He steps out into the hallway, the door closing behind him with a soft click. Ahhh, bugger. Grandpa’s gonna be so pissed if he finds out! Whatever, it was for the greater good.
But his internal monologue comes to a halt when he sees Okkotsu standing outside.
It takes Yuuji a moment to process it. He had not expected him to be waiting, especially after vanishing from the classroom earlier.
For a few seconds, neither of them says anything.
Up close, Okkotsu looks even more startled than before, his eyes wide as they fix on Yuuji. There is something else there too, something softer, warmer, like he is seeing something he had not expected to see.
Yuuji rubs the back of his neck, suddenly a little unsure of himself. He’s hoping he hasn’t crossed some line. Surely not? Yuuji’s a bit of an overthinker though.
“Sorry about all that,” Yuuji says earnestly. “Things got a bit out of hand.”
Okkotsu blinks, as if pulled out of a daze. Yuuji can’t help but notice the way his long lashes cast shadows over his pale cheeks. Pretty.
“You don’t need to apologise,” Okkotsu murmurs. His voice is still quiet, but it no longer feels like it might disappear completely.
Yuuji smiles sheepishly this time. “Still made a mess of the classroom.”
There is a small pause before Okkotsu speaks again. Yuuji’s beginning to feel a little awkward, but he doesn’t want to leave.
“You were amazing.” Okkotsu freezes immediately after saying that, his face flushing red as his gaze drops to the floor. “I didn’t mean to say that so suddenly, I just—”
But Yuuji just laughs. “Thanks,” he says, and there is no trace of teasing in it.
Another brief silence settles between them, though it feels different now. Yuuji jerks his thumb toward the exit. “I got sent home. Do you want to walk with me?”
Okkotsu hesitates, uncertainty flickering across his face. Yuuji’s hoping he does because it’d kinda suck to go home alone on his first day without having made any friends!
“…Okay,” Okkotsu finally concedes. Yuuji resists the urge to fist-bump the air, choosing to grin stupidly instead.
When Okkotsu steps forward to follow, he still moves carefully, like someone who has learned to make himself small. That’s okay, nothing Yuuji can’t fix in due time.
*
That is the first turning point; the second is quieter.
Yuuji keeps talking to him after that. At first, it is just small things like a “good morning” when he drops into his seat, or a comment about classwork. The occasional joke thrown over his shoulder to see if it will land.
Okkotsu startles every time, like he still cannot quite believe it is directed at him. But he’ll still carefully answer anyway. It’s obvious he’s still a bit cagey and suspicious, but with due time Okkotsu seems to be growing used to Yuuji’s antics until it becomes a pattern.
They start walking home together after school. It happens without discussion, as if both of them simply fall into step and decide not to question it. Yuuji talks more, filling the silence easily, while Okkotsu listens with an attentiveness that feels intense.
Somewhere along the way, Okkotsu has become Yuuta for Yuuji, and Itadori has become Yuuji for Yuuta.
Sadly, Yuuta still seems to fold himself smaller in crowded spaces. But Yuuji’s profoundly happy when he sees Yuuta unfold again when it is only the two of them. It almost makes Yuuji feel special knowing he’s the only one Yuuta blooms around. He almost feels guilty for feeling smug about it every now and then, but he does make sure to slap himself whenever he has those thoughts.
*
“Do you even like this kind of movie?”
Yuuji is sprawled across the couch, one arm thrown over the backrest, completely at ease in his own space. The television casts flickering light across the room, shadows moving along the walls as the movie plays. It’s some cheesy cliché comedy because he’s a little tired of watching horror movies.
Also, he’s not really sure if Yuuta would like that kind of stuff. Apparently, Yuuta isn’t a movie kinda guy?! So, yeah, he’s gotta start off somewhere easy.
Beside him, Yuuta sits a little more properly, though not as stiff as he used to be. He is still careful, but there is a softness to him now that had not been there before.
“I do,” Yuuta replies. “It’s engaging.”
Yuuji snorts lightly. “That sounds like you hate it.”
“I do not hate it,” Yuuta says, a little more quickly this time. “I just don’t always understand what is supposed to be funny.”
“That’s fair,” Yuuji says, grinning. “Some of it is pretty dumb.”
The movie continues, full of over-the-top reactions and ridiculous scenarios. Yuuji watches it easily, laughing here and there.
It’s then when he hears a sound that is almost unnoticeable at first. A small, almost uncertain giggle slips out of Yuuta’s mouth. Yuuji’s breath hitches in his lungs. It is so quiet that he might have missed it entirely if he had not already been tuned in to every little shift beside him.
Yuuji’s head turns to his side so quickly he could’ve dislocated his head.
Yuuta is still looking at the screen, but something about him has changed. The tightness that usually lingers in his shoulders has eased, as though he has forgotten to hold himself so carefully together. The line of his posture is finally less guarded.
But most importantly, his lips are curved in a smile, but not the kind that disappears the moment it is noticed. This one lingers, like it does not yet know how to hide itself. It lifts his whole expression, smoothing away the usual tension around his eyes.
When Yuuta lets out another small laugh, it reaches his eyes fully, crinkling the corners just enough to make it real.
It is, Yuuji realises, the first time he has seen Yuuta look like this, and he can’t bring himself to look away. There’s something in Yuuji’s chest that shifts in response, a bit like butterflies fluttering beneath his ribs. Strange, he’d always thought that butterflies were just a silly feeling that existed only in fiction. But right now, they feel a little too tangible.
He only knows that he wants to stay here and in this moment a little longer.
Yuuta notices Yuuji’s blatant staring eventually (Yuuji really needs to pull himself together, he knows) and his smile falters slightly with confusion. How cute. “Is something wrong?”
Yuuji shakes his head, a small and embarrassingly pitched laugh leaving him. “No,” he says quickly. “I just didn’t know you could laugh like that. T’was nice.”
Oops? He didn’t really mean to say that. And now that the words have left his mouth, they sound weirder than he’d initially thought.
Yuuta visibly startles, as though the words have caught him off guard. Ugh, Yuuji can’t help but internally cuss himself out. Clearly, and understandably, Yuuta has found it weird.
But then, much to Yuuji’s surprise, Yuuta’s smile returns. It’s a little smaller now, but there is something steadier about it, like it’s chosen to stay this time rather than slip away.
But it’s not just a smile… a rosy hue dusts across Yuuta’s pretty cheekbones. This, too, is also a new sight for Yuuji. He’s so lucky he’s seen two new things about Yuuta today and—
Oh God, Yuuji’s heart thuds so loud in his chest he’s just glad that super-hearing isn’t a real thing. Like, how embarrassing would that be?
Yuuta turns back to the movie, but Yuuji’s gaze unabashedly drills into Yuuta with singular, devoted interest the entire time.
*
The Spring festival is louder than anything they have shared before. Lanterns glow overhead, casting soft light over the crowd. The air is filled with overlapping voices, distant music, and the occasional burst of laughter that carries through the night.
Yuuji and Yuuta stroll through the festival, which, to be honest, is actually more like Yuuji dragging Yuuta to every single stall and activity with Yuuta resisting then eventually caving. They (Yuuji) eat too much and wander without direction. Time slips past them without urgency, stretched thin by the warmth of the evening.
By the time they leave, the sun is setting and the noise has faded behind them. Cherry blossoms drift softly through the air, pale petals catching the dim light as they fall. Yuuji’s so tired and the spot looks so nice he can’t help but plop onto a nice patch of grass under the tree and lie down.
When Yuuta sighs in exasperation, Yuuji grabs him by the ankle and yanks him to the ground with him. Yuuta yelps and unceremoniously lands on top of Yuuji.
For what feels like an eternity, Yuuji forgets how to breathe.
Yuuta is too close. His hair has fallen into his face, soft strands framing it, and his wide, startled eyes are so pretty. His bottom lashes are quite long, giving his eyes a porcelain doll-like appearance.
He looks so pretty. Yuuji’s very sure he’s thought this exact same thought a lot but he’s truly so beautiful, there is no other way to put it.
Thudthudthud, Yuuji’s embarrassing heart is back on its embarrassing shit. He might need to get it checked out, because surely this can’t be normal? Maybe he has arrhythmia now at his young ripe age. He only knows what that is because he googled it, by the way.
“Sorry,” Yuuta squeaks, then quickly rolls off to the side.
Yuuji can’t really bring himself to respond; it feels like he’s frozen in that same moment. It replays in his head on loop. Yuuta’s eyes are engraved in every fold of his brain. The feeling of Yuuta’s lithe frame against his lingers. His waist looked tiny, that much was obvious whenever Yuuta changed into his PE uniform.
But now, knowing what he felt like on top of him, Yuuji can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to wrap his hands around the cinch of his waist. Would his fingers overl—
Oh.
The realisation is immediate.
Yuuji has truly, madly, deeply, foolishly, completely fallen for him.
*
How it ends: A moment he does not see coming.
It is not a fair fight.
There is no warning, no gradual escalation, no shift in atmosphere that signals what is about to happen; one second the world is intact, and the next it is not.
Something strikes his head from behind with the kind of force that fractures thought before pain has the chance to properly take shape. His body reacts before his mind can catch up, attempting to find footing in a moment that has already slipped out of his control. It’s them, the same group of boys he beat up on his first day.
Ah, he thinks as deep violet phosphenes blur his vision, this was to be expected. There’s no way guys like them would let disrespect slide. But it’s just such a cowardly move to strike him with his back turned.
That train of thought doesn’t last long, for the direction of said train travels towards thoughts of Yuuta.
Yuuta, is he okay? Had he been ambushed too?
Panic rips through his spine, through his soul, as his brain conjures the most devastating images of his precious thing hurt.
It’s his last thought.
*
Consciousness returns unevenly, dragged back in fragments rather than given freely. There is a steady mechanical sound that threads through the dark. It’s persistence is annoying enough to wake him up.
When he finally opens his eyes, it takes a moment for recognition to settle. He’s in a hospital, bandaged up.
Ooooh, yeah. He’s gonna be facing his grandfather’s wrath very soon. He’s never gonna hear the—
Yuuta.
Yuuji sits up too quickly, the movement abrupt enough to send pain flaring through him, but he barely registers it. His gaze moves across the room, searching for a trace of Yuuta’s presence, but there is nothing.
He wonders if Yuuta even knows…
Ahhhh, double bugger! Now he’s probably gonna hear it from Yuuta too!
He turns to his side and spots his phone, but, much to his frustration, it’s cracked and won’t turn on. Dickheads, the whole lot of them. He needs Yuuta he needs Yuuta he needs—there is nothing his heart yearns for more.
He is already swinging his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way his body protests the motion, the way the floor feels too cold beneath his feet.
“Excuse me,” Yuuji says at the reception desk, voice rough but urgent, “can I borrow a phone? Mine’s not working.”
The receptionist slides the phone toward him. “Just keep it brief.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
He dials Yuuta’s number and clamps the phone against his ear. It rings once, then twice, then thrice. Yuuji shifts his weight as tension creeps into his shoulders while he waits for Yuuta’s quiet voice to break through the silence.
… It doesn’t.
“Come on,” he mutters, more to himself than anything else.
The ringing just stretches on.
Yuuta always picks up, or he calls back. His phone is almost always on him; there’s just no way he’s ever unreachable.
When the call is unanswered, Yuuji lowers the phone slowly. Unease starts to settle in his chest, but he tries to remain positive about it all. Maybe Yuuta was busy, maybe he’d fallen asleep, maybe he was cooking.
Yuuji tsks. He just can’t seem to shake off the nagging feeling that something is wrong. He dials again, more insistently this time, like repetition might force a different outcome.
Still nothing.
A thought slips in before he can stop it: What if they got to him too?
What if, before or after coming for Yuuji, they’d also come for Yuuta too? A reel of disturbing images flickers through Yuuji’s mind. Yuuta, injured. Yuuta, hurt. Yuuta, pleading—
“No,” Yuuji breathes, shaking his head, forcing the thought back down before it can take root.
No.
“Thanks,” Yuuji says absently, sliding the phone back across the desk, already turning away.
It’s fine, he reassures himself. Yuuta isn’t picking up, then Yuuji will find him himself, injuries be damned.
*
They tell him that Yuuta withdrew from school. It is said plainly, as though it’s a simple administrative change, as though it explains anything at all.
Yuuji does not believe it, because there is no version of this, none that makes any kind of sense, where Yuuta leaves without saying something, without even a word, without a glance. He would not just disappear. He would not leave him.
There has to be a mistake. There has to be something they are not telling him, something that, once uncovered, will make this all make sense again.
His days are spent searching left, right, centre, anywhere that might still remember Yuuta. There is nowhere he hasn’t looked for his Yuuta.
He’s gone to his house, but it’s barren, with a massive ‘For Sale’ sign slapped against the gate. Yuuji stands there longer than he should, staring at it as though it might shift, might correct itself, might reveal itself to be some kind of mistake.
He asks the teachers, but they don’t know. Or they say they don’t know, which feels worse. Yuuji might be growing a little paranoid.
He’s even inquired at all the schools in their vicinity about a transfer student, but his searches are fruitless: it is as though he has been erased.
It’s not fair, it’s not fucking fair at all. He hasn’t even…
Because he hadn’t even—
Yuuji’s breath stutters, his hand coming up to his face, pressing hard against his eyes like he can force the thought back, like he can stop it before it fully forms.
He hadn’t even said It. He didn’t even get the chance to tell Yuuta how much he meant to him, how much he longed for him in ways he could not begin to describe.
He had never brought himself to cross that distance, because. Because. Because. What was the reason, again?
Now he’d never know what it would feel like to touch him without hesitation, to let his hands settle at the cinch of Yuuta’s waist and pull him closer instead of holding back, to press his lips against his and find out if that warmth he imagined was real or just something he had built up in his own head.
He had never felt the heat of Yuuta’s cheeks under his hands, nor had he watched the way his expression might change up close. He lost something he never even got to have, how does one even begin to reconcile with this?
It’s not fucking fair.