Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a 15% chance that Momotarou didn't do anything, think anything, touch anything while Nitori had taken a shower. As Nitori gripped onto the door handle to enter his dorm room, he took in a deep breath, prayed a little, and hoped that when he opened the door, Momo would be quietly studying at his desk or peacefully asleep or, whatever, unconscious. Just a quiet evening,please. It's all he wanted. So he braced himself and opened the door.

And there was Momo's stupid, smiling face.

Goddamn it, just one day.

"Nitori-senpai! Great, you're back!" Momo leaned back on his desk chair, rocking it on its hind legs, before continuing, "How much food coloring do you think it would take to dye the gym pool red?"

What did that even mean?

"Why…?" Nitori said, cautiously shutting the door behind him. Who knew how half of the ideas Momotarou thought of came into his brain, why he felt the incessant need to energize his day on par with a slice of life manga. Perhaps Nitori wouldn't have minded as much if he weren't dragged in with nearly every half-baked idea Momo conjured up. He just wanted to live a normal life, okay?

"I want to dye our pool red," Momo stated, an excited breath trailing in the air.

"Oh my god, you can't."

"Yeah…" Momo sighed. "I guess it would take a shitload of food coloring, right? I don't think I have enough money for that."

Seriously, that was his obstacle? Never mind that the concept of dying an entire pool red was insane, the reality of Momo's funds could just not support his grand schemes. But Nitori took this for the better as he nodded, relieved the conversation ended quickly. It was a Thursday evening and all he wanted to do was rest on his bottom bunk, feeling his damp hair chill his cheeks as he lay in silen—

"What about detergent?" Momo asked, setting his chair down. He swung his legs around, sitting backwards to face Nitori lying in bed, and shouted, "Like a giant bubble bath!"

He shouldn't ask. Nitori knew he shouldn't ask, but he also knew he couldn't just lay there, listening to his kouhai dismantle a bomb of stupidity right next to him, and so ever hesitant and definitely not fully interested, Nitori gave in and asked, "Momo, why do you want to put stuff in the pool?"

"Because it's big and inviting."

Honestly, Nitori didn't know what to say.

Yet, anyone who knew Momo would know this catered to his persistent personality, to his opportunistic whims, to his batshit insanity eager to burst out of society's constraints, to the fact that Momo just liked playing pranks. It was a shame his older brother graduated before he could attend Samezuka Academy. Seijuro may have been responsible and leadership worthy, but he was also gullible.

Still, here was Momo at an all-boys boarding school, unsupervised and thus unstoppable, with a giant pool begging to be messed with. Think of the laughs, the screams, the—

"Same problem," Nitori said, unaffected by Momo's enthusiasm. "You don't have the kind of money to turn the pool into a bubble bath."

And so sent off the flurry of potential pranks as listed by Momo, seemingly in good rhythm as if he had been thinking about this for days—a conversation Nitori just wanted to be over with already. Momo suggested putting goldfish in the pool, to which Nitori said they would die from the chlorine. So then he said cover the water surface with glitter, which Nitori said would be impossible to clean, that Samezuka would be glittery for days, months, perhaps even years; that they'd be labeled the Glittery Mermaids of Samezuka, the literal goldfishes of the swimming academy, dumb and sparkly.

Momo became desperate, listing off rice, paper, Styrofoam balls, inflatable animals, flowers, underwear, balloons, pineapples?

"Stop, just stop," Nitori said, exasperated that this conversation had gone on for two hours and still Momo insisted on putting something in the pool.

"I still think the balloon idea was okay, Nitori-senpai…"

"Even if you did blow up all those balloons," Nitori said, sitting up from bed, "how are you going to carry all of them to the pool? Where are you going to put them?"

But it didn't matter, because with Momotarou, common sense was merely an option one could choose to abide to in life; a necessary mentality to live a quiet life, a mediocre life, a life as riveting as white bread. And as Momo brushed off Nitori's plea to focus on studying, he looked into his senpai's eyes and beamed—life as riveting as white bread.

"Nitori-senpai," Momo cooed, his lips curling upwards into a cheeky grin.

"Oh god," Nitori groaned, cringing at what he was about to hear. "What? What are you thinking?"

"Bread."

Bread, he said. The boy said bread. Didn't explain what he meant, didn't clarify whether the bread would go in the pool or around the pool, didn't mention how much he needed—the boy simply said bread. That's all.

And Nitori thought, that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

Because first of all, bread gets soggy, so this was destined for disaster from the get-go. But as Momo stood up from his chair, pacing inside their dorm room, Nitori realized they had reached the point of no return, that there was absolutely nothing Nitori could say to change his dimwitted kouhai's mind about layering the pool in bread. This was a cause for concern for the timid silverhead, since one error in Momo's schemes could get him kicked off the swimming team for vandalizing the gym pool—hell, the kid could get expelled from the academy, and how could Nitori live on, knowing he should have guided Momotarou in the right path?

"But Momo-kun," Nitori stuttered out. "What if you get caught?"

"Oh, don't worry," Momo chuckled, "I have a plan."

A plan that wouldn't be explained until the next day.

Nitori found himself standing next to Momotarou in front of the bread aisle at the grocery store. A Friday afternoon, and Momo was shoving thirty-five loaves of bread into their shopping cart. Most boys would go to the movies or the mall, but here they were, buying all of the bread on sale for a 100¥ a loaf. As Nitori gripped onto the shopping cart handle, he wondered if maybe he should be more assertive as Momo's senpai, to warn him of the severity and absurdity of the situation, to at least mention that the bread would sink after absorbing water.

"Momo—"

Just then, Momotarou gripped onto the shopping cart, looking over his shoulder elated with joy and said, "I'm so glad you came with me, Nitori-senpai!"

Goddamn it.

Momo had the kind of smile that was so precious it could melt your heart, haloed by his golden eyes above and rosy cheeks—a sweet peach of a smile shoved down your throat, straight to the heart. With Nitori, it never did take much to pull him in any direction so desired, but if there was anything he hated to do, it was to be the dream-crusher, which is why he tolerated so much day after day. Oh, why did he have to be burdened by an underclassman as wild and reckless as Momotarou Mikoshiba?

Passive was Nitori's nature to the bone, and so he watched in fear Momo attempt to purchase each loaf of bread, watched Momo argue with the cashier clerk that it was absurd for the grocery store to have a cap on how many loaves of bread people could buy on sale, watched Momo argue with the manager about how he was going to buy all thirty-six loaves of bread—just you watch him do it, asshole—whether he had to pawn the rest of the loaves to his senpai to pay for him, watched Momo argue with the customers in line behind them about how he had every right to buy thirty-six loaves of bread, so shut up and wait. To say Nitori was mortified would be an understatement, which is what prompted him to tug at Momo's arm and whisper, "Maybe we should go…"

Honestly, who knew how long the battle for thirty-six loaves of bread would have taken, but when Momo saw Nitori cower behind him from everyone yelling, there was, for a moment, a briefmoment of guilt looming over him. His gentle senpai had probably never had to deal with the absurdity of the world.

So they left with twenty loaves. Each person could buy ten.

"Don't worry, Nitori-senpai," Momo said as they entered their dorm room. "This is not a wrench in the gears! We're a little short on bread, but, well, we can make this work."

"Momo…" Nitori set his bags of bread on his desk. "Maybe you shouldn't go through with this."

A small moment of silence befell them as the two stared at each other.

"But I just bought twenty loaves of bread."

And with that, Momo sat himself on the ground with his set of loaves and reached in his desk drawer, where he pulled out one white garbage bag he had managed to lift from the school janitor. One quick wave of the bag to open it, and Momo began ripping each slice of bread into tiny pieces to place inside the garbage bag. Kid wanted to sprinkle bread pieces all over the gym pool like a giant fish tank. Simple plan, stupid plan, but nonetheless, Momo's plan.

Nitori chose to lie on his bed as Momo proceeded to rip each loaf into pieces, wanting his hands to remain clean of the crime they were about to commit, but as the hours grew on and the sun set, Nitori found himself turning over onto his stomach to peer down at Momo at work. The excitable redhead slouched over his lap as he ripped each piece of bread, seemingly unfazed by the slave labor he was putting himself through, that Nitori dangled his arm off the bed and reached over to Momo's knee just to see if he was human still.

"Momo-kun," Nitori whined, "you've been going at this for hours."

The kid had ripped up six loaves of bread.

"Can't stop, senpai," Momo muttered, his eyes still on his hands. "I've got a mission."

There were still fourteen loaves of bread left to rip up, so much work left to do for this meaningless prank. Nitori didn't want to feel pity, didn't want to look at all supportive for any of this, and tried to bury his head in his pillow to cloud out any thoughts of helping his silly kouhai. It was getting too late for this nonsense, and he knew if he didn't remind Momo that the world still existed, the guy would machine his way through each and every loaf by dawn. His hand still rested on Momo's knee, which he shook lazily as he pleaded, "Take a break."

"No can do, Nitori-senpai."

"Please," Nitori insisted, his voice muffled by his pillow.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Oh fuck," Momo gasped as he desperately tried to grab each loaf in his arms and shove them into the garbage bag.

"Uhhh—" Nitori jolted upwards and grabbed a pair of loaves in his hand. He wondered if he should shove them in his shirt. Legitimately panicked and shoved both loaves under his shirt only to realize how odd it would look to be caught pregnant with twin bread babies, so he took them out and stared at them in his hands, terrified. When did bread become so criminalizing? He looked at Momo, who looked at him, each boy holding a loaf of bread in their hands as if they were bricks of heroin, and jumped when they glanced over to the door.

Rin stood there, confused, his hand still on the doorknob.

"What the hell are you two doing?" he asked, "And why do you have so much bread?"

The first five seconds are crucial when coming up with a lie.

All Rin wanted to ask was if Nitori and Momo had any extra toothpaste since he and Sousuke ran out and forgot to go to the store. Granted, every time he entered their dorm room, something bizarre happened, whether it was Nitori screaming as Momo chased him around the room with a giant bullfrog, or that time Momo weightlifted Nitori in the air to prove he could despite Nitori's flailing (although it wasn't much of a feat because perhaps anyone could bench press Nitori easily), or that time Momo insisted Nitori throw cookies at his chest so he could break them upon impact, crumbs everywhere. So, as Rin observed his slapstick comedy duo of underclassmen hold bread in their hands, surrounded by loaves on the ground and a garbage bag full of tiny shredded pieces, the real question perhaps was… what was Momo doing now?

And why was he also balancing a loaf of bread on his head?

"It's not what you think, Rin," Momo blurted out, still in perfect form with the bread on his head.

"I don't even know what I'm supposed to think here."

"Nitori-senpai and I are bonding."

Rin didn't understand. And from the looks of it, Nitori didn't understand either.

"Uh, what I mean is, uh," so Momo clarified, "Nitori-senpai and I are going to pick up, um, feeding the ducks. So," Momo laughed, his nerves on edge. "So, we need bread, duh."

Rin glanced over to Nitori, who attempted to smile, who looked like he was holding back another set of tears, who probably wanted to die.

"Uh-huh," Rin said. This was such a lie. This was the biggest lie he had ever heard, and he didn't even know what for. But at this point, he didn't care, because this was Momotarou Mikoshiba and all Rin wanted to do was brush his teeth and go to bed. So, he shrugged and said, "Okay, whatever. Don't make a mess. Have any toothpaste?"

And with a tube of toothpaste in his hands, Rin shut the door and left.

Alas, the two culprits' hearts could rest.

"That was so close," Momo said before continuing his shredding the bread loaves, a loaf still on his head.

To which Nitori gaped as he mentioned, "You do realize you can't go through the plan anymore, right? Rin-senpai saw all of the bread! He'll know you did it, that you put the bread in the pool!"

"Oh my god, you're right," Momo gasped, as if this hadn't even crossed his mind. As if he legitimately thought his lie was so good Rin actually believed it. "Aww man, but I bought twenty loaves of bread for this shit!"

Six loaves of bread shredded into pieces in a garbage bag and fourteen loaves of bread, all of which had to be dealt with in a way that didn't involve being put in the pool water. The plan was ruined. Momotarou's heart was broken as he sat in a ring of carbohydrates, his loaf crown still resting sadly on his temple. Nitori pitied the boy—not for having his plans ruined, but for all the hard work he went through. And so he suggested, "Well, we could still feed the ducks? That could be nice…"

Momo nodded, a defeated child accepting the crushed daisy of silver linings.

Poor Momo-kun, Nitori thought. He kneeled onto the floor off the bed and patted Momo's shoulders to comfort him, but it became apparent that Momo had gone off into a downward spiral of pondering on missed opportunities, wasted money, and hours of ripping bread literally thrown into the trash bag. Nitori didn't know what to say to comfort him, so he leaned forward, opened his arms, and slowly hugged Momo. This should have been sweet, but the bread on Momo's head finally tipped over, hitting Nitori square on the face before sliding down his cheek and thudding onto the floor.

It was mad awkward.

So awkward, in fact, that Momo blatantly stared at Nitori.

"Uh." So Nitori let go, cheeks flushed, as he stood up and headed towards the door. "I'm going to brush my teeth."

It felt nice to be hugged by his senpai, Momo thought as he watched Nitori fumble with his desk drawer to pull out his toothbrush and toothpaste before leaving the dorm. It was a stupid idea to put bread in the pool, but it felt nice to have someone tag along in his spontaneity, to have someone who didn't shut him down just because he was weird.

"Okay," he said.

"And," Nitori hunched his shoulders as he looked back at Momo, and quietly, he said, "I don't know, maybe you… could come up with something… better?"

It seemed to be the case that Nitori-senpai was always there to cheer him on, to hug him when he was down, to listen, which was nice. So Momo smiled, letting out a small chuckle as he scratched his neck. Because Nitori had a point, this was merely an end to the bread idea, but the mission itself was still on—this was an opportunity to come up with something grand, something amazing, something no one had ever seen in his life.

For his senpai, Momo would come up with something.

Chapter Text

For his senpai, Momo would come up with something.

Thing is, coming up with ideas is hard, man.

It was already Saturday morning and Momotarou came up with diddly squat, spent all night lying in bed, looking up at the ceiling, and trying to conjure the genius of the prank gods, but came up with nothing. Absolutely nothing. As he slugged his way off the top bunk, Momo greeted Nitori, who was already getting dressed, with a disheartened mumble.

“It’s still a little early,” Nitori said, noticing Momo’s dejection. “Want to feed the ducks real quick?”

When in doubt, a change of scenery is always a source of inspiration, right?

So there they were, strolling down the park by the academy, in search of ducks. Their best bet was the bench just by the small manmade lake, where a little floral island rested just in the center. They took their seats, setting the garbage bag of bread pieces between them, and felt the cool breeze blow against them as they waited for ducks to show up.

Ten minutes went by and not a damn living creature came.

“Are you kidding me,” Momo mumbled as he stood up from the bench, observing his radial perimeters and threw his arms in the air as he cried out, “What is this!”

Nitori had been casually throwing pieces into the lake, watching little minnows nip at them in scattered frenzies. The silence they shared as they waited for ducks to arrive was actually rather nice, but he guessed Momo was beginning to get bored, and well, they did have a giant bag of bread to get rid of—not including the bread still sitting in their dorm room. So he handed some pieces to Momo and said, “Just feed the fish.”

“Where are the freaking ducks?” Momo kept switching his gaze, desperately trying to find them in the park.

But Momo had a trick up his sleeve. One time Seijuro taught him how to make a duck call, so tucking his pointer finger into his thumb as he made a fist, he brought his hand up to his mouth. The next part was tricky, because he was never sure if he was supposed to squeeze his lips or his fist as he cawed out, or if there was any squeezing involved, but he attempted to quack, only to end up blowing pathetic air into his hand. Again and again he tried, failing miserably each time, failing so miserably that even… even Nitori-senpai was… laughing at him.

“Stop,” Nitori giggled out. “You’re terrible.”

So supportive.

“It’s not easy, okay?” Momo defended. He blew again, failing. “I’ll get it.” He blew again, failing. “Hold on.” He blew again, failing. “Just—goddamn it—”

“Oh my god, stop.” Nitori, at this point, couldn’t stifle his laughter.

“No. I’m gonna get this!”

After a few more pathetic attempts, Nitori realized enough was enough. This was his only chance, probably, to do a senpai’s job and show Momotarou how a proper duck call was done. So, with the ease of an entire childhood spent with his siblings calling out to ducks in their vast backyard, Nitori quacked through his fist, his hands echoing the call far out into the distance. It wasn’t much of a talent, but these types of things were easy to pick up when you had siblings to entertain.

At first, two ducks popped out from the floral island in the middle of the lake. Then two more. Then five ducks swooped down from the sky, landing perfectly in the water to paddle their way towards Nitori and Momo. A nice set of nine ducks to feed. So, Nitori reached over to the garbage bag to grab a handful of bread when suddenly, Momo yanked the trash bag from off the bench and dumped all the bread pieces out of it.

For a moment, those ducks knew heaven.

And in heaven, it rained bread.

“Momo!” Nitori jumped up in shock, looking at all the scattered pieces being nabbed up by the ducks and minnows. Like fallen cherry blossoms, but white bread. All over their brink of the lake. His shoulders eased as he watched the birds guzzle down each piece, and said, “We’re probably gonna make these guys so fat.”

Momo crouched down to the lake, peering into one particular duck’s eyes, and in a tone borderline obsessed, he said, “We’ll become their gods.”

A few crows swooped down to the lake, grabbing a bread piece with each dive. This should have been the sign that Nitori and Momo should have left, but unbeknownst to the danger of crows, they stayed and watched as more ducks arrived, and more crows, and some sparrows, and larger fish, and even more ducks, and even more crows, and oh god, ibises came and started picking at bread pieces and the ducks with their long beaks. The ducks quacked, the ibises squawked, the crows cawed, and the fish died as they were guzzled down beaks.

Within seconds, an entire biosphere had arrived before them, attacking each other for bread.

“Oh god,” Nitori cringed.

“Holy shit,” Momo whispered.

The two had created chaos.

They weren’t even sure if some of the animals would survive in the end as the aerial Hunger Games took place before their eyes. As feathers and poop scattered everywhere, they finally understood the need to escape and agreed to never toss that much bread into one location ever again. But still, Momo was amazed at the sight. How many birds flocked the water? Fifty? A hundred? Even more? Their feathers fluffed into another, their wings flared out and flapped, their necks swooned and jerked everywhere—a horde of birds of different colors, all on the water. It was crazy; it was beautiful.

That is, aside from the poop.

“Ugh,” Nitori moaned, looking over his shirt covered in loose feathers, poop, and dirt. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

This was something Momo half-heard, as the sight of a thousand birds lingered in his brain, his imagination taking flight—and then came the idea, so beautiful it was practically art. Momo wondered if he should wait after Nitori’s shower to tell him or to just take the opportunity now and rush to the communal showers. After all, this was big, and he needed to take a shower anyway.

Meanwhile, Nitori turned on the faucet, setting the showerhead temperature on lukewarm and hummed as the water fell down his scalp. He leaned back against the tile wall, facing the plain white shower curtain each stall came with. His duck towel rested on the rod towards the right to avoid getting soaked, his shampoos rested in the provided shower rack, and his loofa hung just off his wrist by its rope cord. All was right in the world to begin his shower.

Until Momo shoved the shower curtain open, shouting, “Nitori-senpai!”

“AAAHHH,” Nitori screamed, his brain malfunctioning at the sight of Momo stark naked in front of him.

“AHHHH,” Momo screamed back, smiling?

“WHA—MOMO—WHAT—” Nitori panicked, turning himself around. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I came up with a new plan!” Momo said, stepping inside the shower next to Nitori and pulling the shower curtain closed again.

“What,” Nitori panted, appalled by the sheer audacity Momotarou had to just join him in the shower, as if this wasn’t a big deal, as if this wasn’t totally invading Nitori’s personal space, and so he meekly took his hand and nudged Momo back against the curtain. “Go away!”

“But you have to listen to my plan!” Momo reached for the bar of soap and began lathering himself under the water. “Because it’s kind of amazing. See, when we were feeding the bir—”

“Momo!” Nitori cowered in the corner. “Are you serious? This couldn’t wait until after the shower?”

“Huh?” Momo realized perhaps priorities did exist, and shrugged. It was probably better to get cleaned first before discussing his idea. “Oh, okay.”

Momo had boundary issues, that much was known, but Nitori never thought he’d be standing naked next to his kouhai, sharing a stall in the communal showers. Oh god, what if people heard them? What would they say? This went beyond what roommates did, right? He peered over his shoulder, noticing Momo continue to lather himself up with the soap, and not leave. Was he seriously just going to join Nitori’s shower?

“Go into another stall!” Nitori tried to push him out again, trying not to touch anything but Momo’s shoulders.

“But I’m here.” Broadening his stance in the showers, Momo fought off Nitori’s weak shoves, and joked, “What, are you shy?”

Nitori turned around again, his shoulders hunched as he held his elbows and tried to hide himself from Momo, and it had dawned on the dimwitted redhead that perhaps his gentle senpai had even lower self-esteem than he thought, that his senpai might have been body-conscious. Nitori was on the smaller side compared to Momo in height and muscle, but it would be ludicrous to be insecure about his body, Momo thought. So, with one swift twirl of Nitori, Momo faced Nitori’s widening eyes, gripped onto his shoulders, and firmly told him, “Nitori-senpai, you’re beautiful just the way you are. Very manly.”

His older brother Seijuro always told Momo that it was very important to compliment your peers every once in a while. Boosted team morale.

“Whaaaat?” Nitori was horrified. What did that mean? What was going on? Was this a confession? What was he supposed to do? Why in the shower, of all places, did he have to deal with this? Nitori didn’t want to be there, didn’t want to exist, didn’t want to be naked with Momo in the shower—and oh god, what if people heard him.

His eyes darted everywhere to avoid Momo’s intense gaze, until they accidentally looked down. Good god, he covered his eyes with his hands so fast, yelping, “Oh god, you’re so naked. You’re so naked.”

“Yes, I am, Nitori-senpai.” Serious as a man in battle ready to meet his death, Momo knew he had to break the societal standards of male beauty in Nitori’s head, and so he added, “We are naked and we are beautiful, senpai.”

“This is not what I want to hear!” Nitori shook all over, feeling the embarrassment within him color him bashful. There was no escape to the madness that was Momotarou Mikoshiba’s good intentions. As he heard his idiotic kouhai continue to preach body positive mantras to him, he realized there was no point in fighting against the inevitable. The guy was dead-set on conquering Nitori’s innate discomfort to be naked with him. So with two long breaths, Nitori slowly opened his eyes and sighed, “Fine.”

“It’s just us,” Momo tried to comfort him. “Just us bonding in the shower.”

Nitori cringed. There were no bounds to Momo’s body confidence. If he was used to being half-nude while swimming anyway, what difference does a Speedo make, right? An exposed penis, that’s what, but Nitori tried not to think about it. If Momo was going to share a shower with him, then Nitori might as well take advantage of it—oh god, not like that, he thought, trying to get the burning image of Momo’s nether regions out of his brain, and handed his loofa to Momo. It was always a struggle to wash his back, so if Momo was going to stay, he could at least be useful.

Nitori turned around before muttering, “Can you… wash… my back?”

Momo didn’t even hesitate. As he began scrubbing Nitori’s back, Nitori focused on one tile in the wall, pep talking himself through the lathering.

This wasn’t weird.

Don’t make it weird.

Everything was pretty peachy on Momo’s end, as he scrubbed Nitori’s shoulders, down to the center of his back, down to his waist, down to his hips, down to his… his… oh.

Momo had never noticed how plump Nitori’s butt was, how nicely shaped it was, how cute it looked just there with a little mole on the right cheek just like the one under his eye. Did his vision lose sight of the world as he gazed at Nitori’s ass? He wasn’t ashamed to say maybe. Momotarou was a man of fine arts, alright? The way a person might look at the statue of David and think, hot damn, that’s a good looking piece of marble. And if a fine ass graced upon him, Momo was always going to be there to appreciate it. This wasn’t weird. This was appreciation.

“Momo-kun?” Nitori wondered why Momo had gotten quiet all of a sudden, which made him paranoid. Did Momo see something weird, like an oddly shaped mole? Oh god, what if he had cancer. How long would he have gone on before skin cancer would have killed him because he can’t see everything behind him, and if it weren’t for Momo’s crazy ass interrupting his shower, he would have never known. But this was the moment of truth, so he glanced over his shoulder to hear his fate—only to see Momo looking down at… down at his… He gasped. “Momo! What—what are you doing?”

Honestly, Nitori should have known better.

“Huh?” Snapped out of his trance, Momo jumped shaking his hands. “No, no, no!”

Ah, shit, the same thing happened when Momo noticed Rin’s cleavage.

Listen, the guy finds beauty in all places. Is that so wrong?

But perhaps Momo shouldn’t have said, “Don’t worry! Your body’s beautiful, Nitori-senpai.”

Nitori covered his butt, shouting, “Don’t look at me!”

“No—what I mean—”

“Stop, just stop,” Nitori pleaded, lathering himself as quickly as he could so he could just leave the shower.

It got weird.

Oh god, it got so weird.

They both stood in silence, shampooing their hair, neither of them leaving the stall until they were both done with the shower. Their hands fumbled when they passed each other bottles and soap. Their eyes darted everywhere but at each other.

 “I still want to tell you my plan, Nitori-senpai,” Momo muttered, letting the water rinse his hair out.

Nitori took a deep breath, having tamed down his frustration again, and as peacefully as he could muster, he said, “Okay.”

And to this, Momo smiled and whispered, “Paper cranes.”

Paper cranes all over the pool.

“I think it’d look cool,” Momo said. “Kind of beautiful, too.”

As Nitori imagined it, imagined all the different paper cranes in their separate patterns scattered across the water surface, he nodded, agreeing. It would be pretty.

It got a little less weird. 

Chapter Text

Nitori shut off the water, relieved that the shower was over, and reached for his towel hanging off the curtain rod. On top of his duck towel rested Momo’s yellow otter one, which made him hesitate and notice Momo reaching for his towel as well, but this tension was fleeting because there was nothing going on between them, they knew. Sure, Momo accidentally checked Nitori out, and Nitori now had the permanent impression of Momo’s penis lodged in the center of his subconscious—but nothing was going on between them. They were just a pair of roommates who took a shower together and could now move on with their lives. So as they wrapped their respective towels around their waists, they chuckled nervously at each other. It was over.

Except it wasn’t.

“We can’t leave together,” Nitori said, staring at the shower curtain shutting them away from the rest of the communal showers. “It’ll look weird.”

“It won’t look weird. There is nothing to be ashamed of.” Alas, Momo’s self-confidence kicked back in. After all, he was still under the impression that Nitori-senpai’s crippling body image would hold him back, which was something he wasn’t going to allow. Because, you see, Momo lacked the capacity to understand the observing world, that people existed outside of his personal circle, that there are reasons etiquette exist. He patted Nitori’s back and opened the shower curtain, gleeful and naïve, and said, “Everything’s fine.”

It was then that Momo realized he had made a terrible mistake.

It was then that Nitori realized that he should switch schools.

It was then that they realized they were naked and the world was awful.

Because right outside their stall stood Kazuteru Minami and Takuya Uozumi, the pretty boy duo meeting their mortified faces with bemused smiles.

They were just entering the communal showers when they overheard two voices coming from the same stall, and boy were they surprised when they saw Momotarou Mikoshiba open the shower curtain, revealing the fact that he had showered with who they thought was innocent Aiichirou Nitori. This was either scandalous or some adorable misunderstanding, but as they witnessed their shifty underclassmen pale in front of them, a beautiful awkward silence suffocated the air. Minami and Uozumi side-eyed each other, having been friends long enough to telepathically exchange their mutual agreement that holy fucking shit, look at them freaking out.

They smiled.

“G—Good morning, Minami-san, Uozumi-s-san,” Nitori stuttered out, trying to uphold a casual tone. This poor kid. If someone had told him when he woke up this morning—hell it was still morning; the day was only beginning—about all the shit he would have to deal with within an hour, Nitori would have just stayed in bed, binge-watched freaking Law & Order: SVU while eating several bowls of cereal and saltwater taffy, and call it a day. But no, there he was, tugging at Momo’s arm for them to leave, to just get the hell out of there, to just pretend none of this was happening and if they truly believed, maybe magic was real and they could disappear into a world where no one finds you showering with your roommate.

“Good morning, Nitori-san,” Minami replied, his lips crept up further as he watched Momo and Nitori gradually muster up the courage to exit their stall. Hell, he didn’t really care what the two did together, but my, what a ballsy pair, those two. It had to be against the rules to engage in sexual conduct in the showers, right? Like they did anything, but still Minami found it amusing.

“Right,” Momo spoke too loudly from his nerves, but he was still optimistic, for this was a situation he felt he could fix. He knew his senpai was dreading every second of the encounter they were having, but if he and Nitori could just simply emphasize the sheer innocence of the situation, they would be fine. So, to compensate for the silence, Momo decided to play it natural and said, “Nothing like some roommate bonding! Right, Nitori-senpai?”

Kill me, Nitori thought.

Giving a quick wave to Uozumi, Momo stared down his backstroke-senpai as he left with Nitori, but everything was fine. He had planted the seed of open friendship, the understanding that Momo and Nitori’s relationship was so strong now that they were beyond conventional boundaries, a more sophisticated acceptance of each other. Roommate bonding.

Sure the pretty boy duo that was feather-haired Minami and pompadour-chic Uozumi were known to be in-the-know about everyone’s trash on the Samezuka swim team, but that didn’t mean they were gossipers, right? There was nothing to hide anyway, Momo reassured himself, and so he placed an overzealous arm around his senpai, much to Nitori’s horror and misunderstanding, and bid adieu to his upperclassmen with a cocky, “See you at breakfast!”

Minami smirked, nudging Uozumi. Such a ballsy pair.

“What was that?” Nitori hissed after they entered their dorm room. He was on the verge of fainting because this was bad, this was so bad. This was perhaps the defining moment of the end of Nitori’s life, and he hadn’t even gotten breakfast yet. He glared at Momo, who had already started to get dressed, and just wondered how, how could Momo put an arm around him as they left? How could he not have understood the mixed messages he would send out?

“We’re fiiiine,” Momo assured, placing his pants on. “Hey, as long as they didn’t hear my plan about the paper cranes—”

Nitori threw his towel at Momo, pissed, and shouted, “That is not the problem here!”

“Ack!”

The towel had landed over Momo’s face, which startled him. A fumbling mess with the towel, Momo pulled his head from under, slightly amazed at how fast Nitori managed to put on underwear and pants within those seconds of confusion, and skinny jeans no less. He placed the duck towel on Nitori’s desk chair, dabbing his arms dry first, and shrugged at his roommate.

“I think we’re okay,” he said, “but anyway, it’s all in the past. Not much we can do about it now.”

And whether Nitori wanted to admit it or not, Momotarou was right. They couldn’t rewind the clock and change the course of time. So as they placed on their shirts, grabbed a couple pieces of bread to eat with their breakfast at the dining hall, and brave the rest of the day, they could only hope no one at the academy would know a single thing.

But at the dining hall, people stared.

Well, shit.

All right, so maybe Momo may have stirred some gossip amongst the academy, but hey, talk about the ultimate distraction from the greatest surprise art display he was about to pull, right? Sure, maybe some people might have interpreted Nitori and Momo showering together to mean they were dating or fucking or both, but all in the hands of masterful deviation, right? There had to be a positive side to numerous students watching them as they carried their meal trays down the table aisles, right?

Dear god, what had they done.

“Everyone’s staring…” Nitori whispered to Momo, desperately searching the cafeteria for a familiar face. From insecurity in front of imposing eyes, he found himself getting closer to Momo, brushing up against his arm as security, which only made some people whisper, which made Nitori start to panic, which made finding someone in the crowd that he knew nearly impossible.

But the fact of the matter was not many people were staring.

Momo and Nitori were just quietly freaking out.

“Everything is fine, Nitori-senpai,” Momo whispered back, also trying to find someone.

Alas, their eyes lit up as Sousuke Yamazaki shined like a beacon of hope at his table.

“Yamazaki-senpai!” They greeted from across the dining hall.

Sousuke, who had been slouched over his bowl of cereal, apathetically looked up to meet their gaze, and watched them rush over to him and sit themselves down across from him at the table, eager to find solace in his presence. He hovered his spoon just in front of his mouth just before greeting them with a hmm, and took another bite of his cereal, but as they too began to eat their breakfast, he noticed their self-conscious glances at the rest of the students around them. Some students were watching, which was odd, but he figured the peach brat must have been up to something again. Whatever.

“Good morning, Yamazaki-senpai,” Momo announced, ever aware of everyone’s observation. “What a fine day we’re having!”

 Nitori face palmed. It was becoming more apparent that Momo lacked the capacity to lie without being the most conspicuous liar, as he picked up his piece of toast and remarked at how delicious it was and how today was even better now they he had tasted this utterly amazing piece of toast. Totally normal. Nothing weird happened. Today was beautiful.

“Right…” Sousuke set his spoon down. Speaking of toast, Rin had mentioned an odd tidbit about these two. So as he watched them fidget in front of him, he figured now was as good a time as any to mention, “Rin says you have a shit ton of bread. Says you’re bonding.”

“Yup,” Momo continued to enunciate his responses for everyone to hear, “Nitori-senpai and I are bonding. We got all sorts of bread so we can feed the ducks this morning. We’re such great roommates.” Then he quieted down and focused his attention to Sousuke as he said, “We have so much bread now, it’s crazy. If you need bread, man, we got it. You want sandwiches?”

Sousuke always wanted sandwiches.

But still.

Wait, was “bread” code for drugs? Were Momo and Nitori dealing drugs?

“Why do you have so much bread?” Sousuke asked, trying to understand why Momotarou was so suspiciously adamant about appearing natural in, considering his shifting gaze at the students peering over to their table, front of everyone. Nitori was no less innocent, insecurely curling his shoulders inward as he tried to disappear at the table. Sousuke narrowed his eyes. “What are you two up to?” He leaned forward. “Is it illegal? Are you guys doing something illegal?”

“What?” Momo chuckled, “No…”

Nitori hung his head in shame as he muttered, “Oh my god, how does it keep getting worse.”

It was drugs.

Sousuke set his spoon down, wondering how in the world did these two idiots manage to find themselves in a drug operation, except then why would Rin say there was just all this bread in their room? That is, unless they were hiding the drugs in the bread. It was such a stupid concept that these dumbasses could pull it off.

“We’re…” Nitori attempted to resolve the damage Momo had done, “No, seriously, we’re not doing anything bad.”

“Then why are you both so fidgety?” Sousuke leaned on his elbows, giving a slight nod at their surroundings as he asked further, “And why are people staring at you guys?”

 “Oh.”

“Well,” Momo scratched his neck, dragging out his words as he confessed, “it might have to do with—”

Nitori gasped, clutching onto Momo’s shoulder. “Momo, no—”

To which Momo tried to whisper back, “He’s gonna find out anyway.”

“Find out what?”

Aha, the truth was about to come out. With these kids, there was no point in trying to hide from Sousuke. Besides, he was nice guy. He was willing to help. They had promising swim careers, so there was no need to throw those down the drain, and Sousuke was the last guy who would ever let another person make a foolish decision that would cost them his future. He knew better. So, he sat back, and assured them, “It’s okay. Just tell me. We can solve whatever bullshit you guys got yourself into.”

And he waited for Momotarou’s answer, which was simply, “Uh, we showered together.”

See, an easy problem to fi—

Wait, what?

“And, uh, Minami-senpai and Uozumi-senpai saw us…” Momo twiddled his thumbs. “And we think other people know now… And rumors might spread.”

He looked at their anticipating faces, then around at students’ eavesdropping on their conversation, and digested this fact before he said, “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“What do we do, Yamazaki-senpai?” Nitori pleaded. “I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”

Hell, Sousuke had no idea. He wasn’t entirely sure whether Nitori and Momo simply showered together or showered together, as neither of them made it clear. It was honestly a bit difficult for him to look at Nitori and Momo in the same way knowing this, pondering whether the two were bonding in a platonic or romantic way.

Rin showed up to the table with his breakfast and coffee, a relieving change to the table dynamics as he sat down next to Sousuke and greeted everyone with, “Good morning.”

Everyone was quiet at the table. Nitori looked no one in the eyes, Momo fiddled with his fingers, and Sousuke stared at his kouhais, trying to retain his innocent image of them. Considering Rin had just arrived to the table, he had no idea why everyone was quiet, why—as he looked around—some people peered over, why it felt… awkward?

He held his coffee up to his mouth and asked, “Is… everything all right?”

He took a sip.

And Sousuke said, “These two are showering together.”

Rin choked.

“Um.” Rin wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Excuse me?”

“It’s Momo’s fault.” Nitori glared at Momo. “You couldn’t just wait until after I came back, could you?”

“I needed to talk to you!” Momo leaned in to Nitori’s ear, “And shh, we can’t give anything away.”

Rin was more curious about Nitori than Momo. Momo was crazy and stupid, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that he would barge into Nitori’s shower and make himself comfortable. What was more surprising was hearing that Nitori let him stay.

“Do you have something you need to tell us?” Rin asked.

But they didn’t answer. Instead they both eyed each other before shoving food into their mouths, avoiding both Sousuke and Rin’s eyes. Neither Sousuke nor Rin knew what this implied, except for maybe something had budded between the two, which might have been cause for an awkward relationship in need of blossoming and nurturing. If they were beginning to realize feelings for each other, then they might have been ashamed or curious or uncertain of how to approach this.

Although, Rin was fairly certain Momo had a huge crush on Gou.

He shrugged. Whatever. Better Nitori than his sister.

As Rin immediately jumped to the conclusion that Momo and Nitori were experimenting with each other, Sousuke took caution. Things didn’t add up. Sure, an odd situation to have them showering together and whatnot, but it still didn’t explain the bread. Could these numb skulls really have bought such a large quantity of bread just to feed ducks in the park? Why was Momo so adamant about their “roommate bonding” if they were potentially hiding something more? What did Momo need to talk about with Nitori in the shower that couldn’t wait, that Nitori allowed?

“Well,” Momo stood up from the table, picking up his tray. He nudged Nitori, who begrudgingly followed suit, and said, “We’re off to do more roommate bonding.”

“Going to feed the ducks?” Rin said.

“No,” was all Momo replied before leaving.

“We’re…” Before Nitori left with Momo, he looked over his shoulder and insisted, “We’re just friends.”

Sousuke and Rin glanced at each other.

Right.

Chapter Text

First thing’s first, Momo needed money.

Considering Momo blew most of his allowance on twenty loaves of bread, the obvious route to success was figuring out a way to capitalize on his now abundant amount of wheat product. He had fourteen loaves of bread to work with, absolutely no cooking equipment whatsoever, and very few culinary skills in general. But Momotarou was always resourceful, for what he lacked in cooking skills, he made up with zany antics. Who said he could only make money off of feeding people bread? The entertainment business was where it was at.

As he and Nitori sat on the bottom bunk, Momo took inventory of everything in their dorm room, looking for anything that could be of use. In the snack department, they had two jars of peanut butter, saltwater taffy, half a box of corn flakes, and wasabi peas. In the toy department, they had toy soldiers, a butterfly net, a harmonica, a bottle of bubble soap, and a couple of water guns. In the art department, they had crayons, some markers, some printer paper, blue glitter Nitori had to use for a school project once, scissors, and all sorts of stickers Nitori collected for some reason. For everything else, they had razors, shaving cream, a pair of fishnet tights that Nitori wore last year at the maid café, Momo’s prized golden speedo, and duct tape.

It wasn’t much, but they could entertain people somehow.

So, with a cautious, gentle air to his voice, Momo turned to Nitori and asked, “Nitori-senpai, we’re friends, right?”

But Nitori knew where this was going and said, “No.”

“Whaaaat?” Momo’s heart broke a little. “Nitori-senpaiiiii, how can you say that?”

Oh, Nitori didn’t want to be cruel. They were obviously friends. How else would Nitori have gotten this deep in embarrassing shenanigans? One could say he was spending too much time hanging out with Momotarou lately, which is why when Momo observed the contents of their dorm with the intensity of MacGyver on a mission, Nitori wanted none of those plans.

“I’m not doing it,” he said, crossing his arms.

“You don’t even know what the plan is!”

“I’m still not doing it.”

“I just need you to collect money. You won’t even have to do anything.” Momo bowed before Nitori on the ground, his arms stretched out, and pleaded, “Please, Nitori-senpaiiii!”

Don’t give in, Nitori told himself, it’ll be bad if you give in.

Momo latched himself onto Nitori’s legs, whimpering, begging, wailing. Oh god. Nitori attempted to nudge Momo’s head away only to have Momo stubbornly nuzzle his face into Nitori’s knees, shaking him, begging him, practically trying to fuse with him. But no, Nitori told himself, because things had gone too far now and this was Momo’s problem, not his. Perhaps if he was assertive about not helping Momo this time, his foolish kouhai might drop the prank altogether and live peacefully again—for, who knows, a week or something.

 “I’ll do whatever you want!” Momo pleaded, resting his chin on Nitori’s knees. His eyes sparkled like sunshine, beaming with hope and desperation, and he smiled his suffocating, sweet smile once more as he took Nitori’s hands in his and insisted, “Anything.”

Nitori sighed.

Nitori looked away, biting his lip.

Nitori threw his head back, groaning.

Goddamn it, not again.

“Ugh, fine, okay,” Nitori groaned, falling onto his back and sinking himself into the mattress. Here he was again, walking into the lion’s den behind his dimwitted kouhai. Why was he so easy to break? He didn’t even want to think of what haphazard absurdity he was about to get himself into, but at least he got a favor out of it. So he said, “You owe me.”

Nitori felt Momo stand up a little, gasping an eager yes, just before he plopped himself onto Nitori, rocking side to side with him in a tight hug.

“Waaahhh—oh god!”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Momo bounced up from the bed, letting go of Nitori. “Anything, you name it! But for now, I need you to put on your swimsuit.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have to do anything?”

“Oh, you don’t,” Momo assured him, already pulling out his golden speedo from his underwear drawer. “Nothing to worry about, Nitori-senpai. You’re just gonna stand there and look pretty as the money comes in.”

Somehow the sounds of that made Nitori worry even more.

They were on the beach boardwalk, and since it was a Saturday afternoon, plenty of people curiously stared at Momotarou slathering his bare chest with… peanut butter.

Nitori held his hand over his eyes like a visor, his head looking down in shame as he stood in nothing but his swimsuit and a teal hoodie. Surrounding him was a miscellaneous bunch of items Momo had pulled out from their room, and just to Nitori’s left was a propped up sign that read, “SHOW STARTS EVERY TEN MINUTES.” Oh, it was about to be a spectacle, all right, which Nitori dreaded for many reasons. The main reason was that Momo blatantly lied to him about having nothing to do—he actually had quite a bit to do as the show technician. On the ground to the right of Nitori rested a stereo they borrowed from Sousuke, who didn’t even question why, just lent it to them with a stern don’t break it, and even showed them how to hook up Momo’s mp3 player to it.

“Momo-kun,” Nitori sighed, watching a small audience form around them. “I really don’t think this is going to get us money…”

“Performance art, Nitori-senpai!” Momo shouted, now rubbing blue glitter onto his face, which gradually sprinkled onto his peanut butter-covered chest. He pointed to the supplies on the ground as he asked, “You remember the order, right?”

Bubbles. Water guns. Bread.

“Yeah…” Nitori said, reluctantly.

“Great.”

There Momo stood in front of twelve or thirteen people in a golden speedo, covered in peanut butter and blue glitter. He pulled a harmonica out of his swimsuit, much to everyone’s surprise and vague horror, and hummed a sharp tune to grab the audience’s attention before outstretching his arms and announcing, “Welcome! I will be performing a dance I’ve titled ‘All for the Paper Cranes’ for you all! Feel free to donate any money to my lovely assistant over here by the radio.”

Momo flagged his arms over to Nitori, who made no eye contact as he held up his hand to wave at the audience.

“Enjoy the show!”

And so Nitori pressed the play button on the mp3 player, triggering a playlist centered around new age electro. As the electronic beats blasted from the stereo, so began the trance-like dance by Momo, who threw his arms in the air as he rocked his shoulders from side to side. Modern dance at its worst. There was absolutely no way people were going to give money to watch a teenaged boy prance around covered in peanut butter and glitter.

The bass began to pulsate louder, triggering Nitori’s first step to blow bubbles against Momo, who waved his arms like a goddamn hippie. As the horde of bubbles floated past Momo’s face, his eyes shut as he got lost in the music, and Nitori gaped as more people crowded around them in awe, actually entranced by this performance. The kid smeared his hands against his glittered face and people looked like they felt moved. For crying out loud, people pulled out their cell phones to record videos.

The bridge of techno song echoed across the boardwalk, prompting Nitori to pull out the water guns from his hoodie and squirt aimlessly at Momo, who jumped around, bopping his head back and forth as he shouted, “Higher! Higher!”

Nitori squirted water towards the sky.

People audibly gasped.

But you could tell what they were most curious about. The pile of bread loaves behind Nitori. What was the lovely assistant going to do with the bread, they wondered. Did it involve the peanut butter on the dancing odd boy’s chest? What did this all mean? Was this dance too deep for them, mere commoners walking along the beach boardwalk? The props used—bubbles, water guns, bread—what was their significance at being thrown in Momo’s direction? Was he, perhaps, the beaming delight in a random world throwing life’s obstacles at him?

Or was he just some maniac dancing as some shit was thrown at him?

The chorus rang out in the air again, and Nitori took some slices of bread from one bag and, sure enough, aimed for Momo’s chest, where slices of bread stuck onto him as he leaned back further and further to parallel himself to the ground.

This was, perhaps, the dumbest thing Nitori had ever done.

And he was going to have to do this on a ten-minute cycle.

People took photos, made videos, and waved to their friends to come see. People cheered as Momo leapt in the air, flexed his pelvis out, and provocatively waved his torso with the beat. Was this art? Was this some weird strip tease? They didn’t know, but they threw money over to Nitori and Momo anyway.

Dear god, they actually gave money.

And with each dance and each increase of the profits, Nitori became disillusioned with the world, because if it were this easy to make money, what purpose did he have in doing anything else? Perhaps Momo and he would become street performers for the rest of their days, living off the land and people’s desperation to understand modern dance. The bohemian lifestyle.

But no, he couldn’t do that. What would he tell his mother? That he had run off with his kouhai to become street performers?

“Ai-chan!”

Oh god, was his mother here?

Horrified, Nitori looked beyond the crowd Momo entertained, noticing Nagisa Hazuki’s blonde curls bounce up and down as he waved for Nitori’s attention. He had mixed feelings about this, because on one hand, Nitori was grateful to see Nagisa instead of his mother because he simply had no real way of explaining why he was throwing miscellaneous items at his gyrating partner-in-crime, and that was a conversation he never, ever wanted to have. Yet, on the other hand, Nagisa Hazuki was the bane of his existence, ever persistent in scandalizing Nitori’s life in some fashion or another, and he was definitely not looking forward to—oh no, Nagisa was making his way over—oh no, oh no, oh no.

“Ai-chan!” Nagisa pushed his way through the crowd, making his way up to Nitori.

“He-hello, Hazuki-san…”

“What are you doing?” Nagisa asked, glancing over towards Momo, who shimmied his shoulders as he sang along with the music. “Or rather, what is that guy doing?”

“Oh.” Nitori still had his music cues, so he spoke to Nagisa in between blowing bubbles toward Momo. “Momo-kun is trying to raise money for a project.”

Momo spun himself in circles, letting the bubbles twirl with him.

With a pointer finger pressed against his lip, Nagisa asked, “But Ai-chan, don’t you think dancing for money is a little… promiscuous?” He pointed at Nitori’s swimsuit. “Are you going to dance, too?”

“What? No!” Nitori held up the water guns. “I’m just props.”

Nitori said this with such simplicity that even Nagisa took notice of the casual tone he had developed since meeting Momotarou Mikoshiba. It sure did seem like his life got more exciting with the peach boy wonder around, a constant bag of surprises. In a way, Nagisa envied Nitori for having such a lively kouhai. Not that he disliked his own friends, but he doubted the Iwatobi team would be up with the level of performance art Momo was willing to enact in front of a crowd.

“Hey, Ai-chan—”

“Could you stop calling me that.”

“—hand me one of those guns, please.”

Nagisa originally came to the boardwalk to frequent that new ice cream joint that opened up, but getting the opportunity to squirt water at dear Ai-chan was just as fun, he felt. If only Rei hadn’t been busy with homework, but oh well. Nagisa snatched a water gun from Nitori’s hand, squirting him right in the face. Sometimes he just had to have fun on his own.

“Ack!” Nitori wiped his face, and he would have glared but fear struck him as Nagisa held the gun up at him again. “What are you…?”

Nagisa giggled, nodding off to Momo, as he exclaimed, “Go dance with your kouhai, Ai-chan!”

Oh, for goodness’ sake.

Now, it wasn’t as if Nitori actually joined Momo in dancing, but rather started running around him, shooting water at Nagisa as Nagisa shot water at him. People would cheer for every time Nagisa successfully shot Nitori in the butt, making him yelp. Perhaps this was why the “lovely assistant” wore a swimsuit as well, they figured, never questioning the addition of a third person to the show.

Momo stood in the center of the two, reaching for the sky as he yelled, “Yesss! Yesss!”

He was so far gone in the music.

And even though Nitori never got to throwing bread at Momo’s chest, people still gave money to this act. At this point, Nitori stopped questioning why.

“People will give you money for anything,” Nagisa chimed, sitting on the sidewalk curb just outside the ice cream parlor. “But what do you need money for anyway, Ai-chan?”

“I told you,” Nitori panted, “for a… project.”

Nitori leaned his soaked head on some loaves of bread still left over (twelve) as he lied down on the sidewalk, panting from what seemed to be the never-ending chase by Nagisa Hazuki. And damn Momo for not even bothering to help him as he ran in circles, nowhere to go because the audience encircled them, trapping Nitori in a cage of stupidity. Nitori unzipped his hoodie to air-dry his skin, his chest expanding with each deep breath he took to calm down. He clutched his chest, a bit too out of breath.

Meanwhile, Momo wiped off the peanut butter from his chest with his fingers, which he licked clean. A job well done, he felt. The sun began to set ahead of them, slipping into the oceanic horizon. Four hours of dancing had to turn up some profits, and sure, there was that one scuffle with a policeman who asked if they had a street performance license, which they did not, but it all turned out for the better because Nitori-senpai managed to hide all of the money before he said they were high school students doing a social experiment for class. And so they were let off the hook. That senpai of Momo’s, the greatest alibi expert he could ever ask for.

“Where’d you put the money, Nitori-senpai?”

In one of the bread loaves, of course.

He hid a total of 8,740 yen in bread.

“What kind of project needs you to make this much money?” Nagisa arched a brow. No school project ever requires you to make this much money—not by dancing on the streets, that is. That’s what fundraisers were for. So, this was obviously a personal project, which prompted Nagisa’s next question, “Are you guys doing something bad?”

Unsure of whether to trust Nagisa—he was a student at a different school, but he was also friends with Rin and generally mischievous—Nitori and Momo hesitated in revealing anything to the perky daredevil.

“If it’s a something secret, I’ll promise to keep it,” he whispered. “Come on, I want to know!”

“What do you think, Nitori-senpai?” Momo asked. He didn’t really know who this blonde kid was, just knew that Nitori and Rin both knew him apparently. Yet, by the looks of his senpai furiously shaking his head no as he lied on the sidewalk, Momo took caution with their school’s competition and said, “Samezuka knowledge only!”

“Aww, don’t be like that…” Nagisa pouted. “I bet I could help…”

Why the universe allowed two crazy idealists to meet, Nitori will never know, but it happened. And if there was any way to get on Momo’s good side, it was telling him you just wanted to help, to be his aide, to get his dreams rolling off the ground into reality—because this kid thrived on positivity and good feedback, which is why he felt the need to compliment and encourage everyone he knew. In some respect, Nitori admired this trait about Momo, a constant propeller of spreading good thoughts.

But not if that meant teaming up with Nagisa Hazuki.

Who would exploit those good thoughts.

Dear god, Momo, no!

“Really?” Momo brightened up. “Well, okay, if you think you can, that’d be cool—so anyway, Nitori-senpai and I are saving up money to buy origami paper—”

“Uh-huh,” Nagisa beamed, excited to hear the plan.

“—and we’re going to make paper cranes, all sorts of them, like a shitload of them—no seriously,” Momo spread his hands in front of him, “I’m talking thousands of them, like you could start farming origami paper cranes and watch them grow—”

“Uh-huh?” Nagisa didn’t quite understand that last part, but okay.

“—and we’re gonna take those cranes and put them in the pool, a whole layer of cranes on the pool! It’ll be beautiful!” And then Momo got stern as he said, “But no one can find out.”

“I see.” Nagisa hummed. “Are you going to decorate the rest of the pool gym?”

Nitori slapped his forehead, because of course the plan would expand in Nagisa’s hands.

“What do you mean?” Momo asked.

“Maybe you can hang lights and lanterns, and flowers and branches!” Nagisa gasped, “Oh, let me help! I bet if I ask Rei-chan, he can figure out how much we’ll need. This could be really beautiful, err… what was your name?”

Momo stretched out his hand, “Mikoshiba Momotarou!”

To which Nagisa shook and said, “Hazuki Nagisa!”

As Nitori laid there on the sidewalk, overhearing the two outline the plan of action, he sighed. This project had become too big. They were going to be in so much trouble, and for what? A pretty sight? Maybe a photo’s worth of beauty?

“Ai-chan,” Nagisa tapped Nitori’s head. “Text me when you two are going to do this and I’ll bring the rest of the supplies, no charge!”

Nitori sighed.

“Okay…”

He was in too deep.

Chapter Text

Summer days were long, but at least they were nice. It was about six in the afternoon with the sun at half set, warm colors tinting the clouds, when Nitori picked a spot on the beach to sit as he waited for Momo to return from the ice cream parlor. After Nagisa left, he offered to buy them both ice cream as thank-you for assisting him with the dance routine, which Nitori took up. Free ice cream was free ice cream, after all.

He chose a spot just before the wet shore, on a slight hill of dry sand before it declined into a patch of seaweed and shells brushed onto shore by the waves. A faint breeze whisked Nitori’s bangs away from his eyes as he sat with his chin resting on his knees propped up, his toes tucking themselves into the sand. Just behind him lay the twelve loaves of bread stuffed into another garbage bag Momo stole from the janitor, along with the rest of the props. To his right rested his sneakers and Sousuke’s stereo, which he still didn’t understand why it was lent to them in the first place without any questioning. Seriously, the guy just gave it to them as if Momo was actually trustworthy.

“All right,” Momo plopped himself down next to Nitori, keeping sure to not tip over the two sprinkle-covered, vanilla ice cream cones he held in each hand. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted chocolate sprinkles or rainbow ones, so I got both. You can choose.”

Donning his yellow hoodie, Momo looked half-decent now with all the peanut butter and blue glitter cleaned off. He held up both cones up for Nitori to choose, ever excited to eat one of them.  

“Chocolate is fine, thank you,” Nitori said.

“Cool,” Momo said, handing it over to Nitori. “So, when do you want to go to the bulk store tomorrow? We have to buy all the origami paper. I’m thinking first thing in the morning, but it’s Sunday,” he sighed, “so I want to sleep in, too.”

Nitori took a lick of ice cream before he asked, “Shouldn’t you do your homework first?”

Despite living in the school itself, Momo had completely forgotten such an establishment even existed. The idea of homework was such a buzzkill that Momo slouched as he licked the sprinkles off the ice cream and whined, “Nitori-senpai… I can do my homework after.”

“No,” Nitori insisted. “You know the moment you buy the origami paper, you’re going to want to start making the cranes and then you’ll never do your homework.” He shrugged. “I’ll go with you after.”

This wasn’t a threat, but it might as well have been, for Momo pouted as if he had been faced with such a terrible ultimatum. Do his homework that evening or face the reality that Nitori wouldn’t go shopping with him first thing they woke up. It did not cross his mind that, maybe, he could just buy the origami paper without his roommate tagging along, because by this point, this project had gradually become their project, and such a concept was sacred. And so Momo gobbled the tip of the vanilla swirl in frustration, and muttered between cream-covered lips, “Fine.” Then pointed at Nitori with his cone. “But you have to do your work, too. We go to the store tomorrow, first thing.”

“’Kay,” Nitori hummed, smiling as he looked off into the sunset. Alas, a battle he won.

It was settled then, which prompted Momo to eat his ice cream quickly, shoving the swirl completely into his mouth as he munched onto the waffle cone, but as any elementary schoolkid could tell you, this was a terrible decision on Momo’s part as a laser beam of hypothermic proportions shot at the center of his temple. The mega of all brain freezes.

“Oh…” Momo’s hand held his forehead. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts!”

“Put your thumb to the roof of your mouth,” Nitori advised.

He hesitated at first, but Momo heeded the advice and pressed his thumb up at the top of his mouth. It might have looked like Momo was sucking his thumb, but the trick worked as the warm sensation of his thumbprint brought the rage that was his exploding noggin down to a neutral temperature again. He scratched his neck, slightly embarrassed that he was still a victim to brain freezes, as he said, “Thanks.”

Nitori nodded, glancing down at Momo’s mouth covered in sprinkles and smeared vanilla cream, and huffed out a small chuckle as he said, “Momo-kun, you’re such a mess.”

As Nitori began to eat the rim of his waffle cone, Momo wiped his mouth with his hoodie, but a red sprinkle lingered on his face still, of which Nitori said, “Oh, Momo-kun, there’s still one on the corner of your mouth.”

“Huh?” Momo pointed to the right corner of his lips, and asked, “Here?”

“No, the other side.”

Momo smirked as he pointed to his right cheek and said, “Here?”

“No, the left.”

He pointed to his left cheek, making sure to avoid the sprinkle he could feel tucked in his left dimple. “Here?”

“Close,” Nitori nodded his head, trying not to fall prey to Momo’s teasing, “but no, your lips.”

“Here?” He pointed to his nose.

“Momo!”

Nitori took everything so seriously that it was hard for Momotarou to refrain from teasing his senpai every once in a while, particularly when the opportunity struck. A small moment of fun to make the worrywart smile, because Momo knew how often he didn’t. Always check the mental state of your friends, his brother told him. Always cheer them on.

So as Nitori giggled at every ludicrous spot Momo pointed at his face, he joked, “I don’t think there’s even a sprinkle on my face. I think you’re just lying to me, Nitori-senpai.”

He said this, of course, while pointing at his hair.

“Just wipe your mouth!” Nitori laughed. “It’s driving me crazy!”

Freaking Momo refusing to get rid of that red sprinkle. Jokes aside, it was honestly bothering Nitori, which meant matters literally needed to be taken into his own hands. He reached over to Momo to wipe it off him, but Momo dodged his hand. He attempted a second time only for Momo to dodge once more. Ugh, all he wanted was the sprinkle to come off, that’s all. How had it not fallen off his face by now anyway? Was it glued onto him or something? But it stuck there, an annoying red mark staring right back at Nitori, and it had to go. Whether he had to pry it off with his own two hands or not, that sprinkle didn’t have a chance. So, with this newfound determination, Nitori grabbed at Momo’s face.

Ah, but this meant the beginning of a challenge.

And if there’s one thing you don’t do, is taking Momo up for a challenge.

Not because you’ll lose—because frankly there were good chances of you winning—but because Momo took things hardcore, the kind of the guy who rammed his head against the poolside at record speed because challenge accepted, the kind of guy who spent far too many hours out in the fields searching for stag beetles weaved into the grass because challenge accepted, the kind of guy whose entire body shook as he kept his eyes open in a staring-eye contest with Seijuro because challenge fucking accepted, he’s got all day, punkass. Momotarou Mikoshiba was a man of sheer brawn—sort of, one day; puberty is a long process, okay—and the red sprinkle resting on the corner of his lip would be the prize he needed to protect.

Yet, even though it was bound for Nitori to come out the victor in this sprinkle wrestling match, just on the simple hand of physics and gravity, Nitori wondered at what cost would he fight for this sprinkle?

This is what ran through Nitori’s head as he struggled to get his hand close enough to Momo, who had taken a firm grip of both of his wrists. Both of them had riled up enough energy to kneel on the sand as they arm wrestled. And with a cheeky grin, Momo taunted, “I am stronger than you, Nitori-senpai…”

Okay, this was true, Nitori thought, but also unnecessary. Jeez. He was trying.

Ah, but what a difference a moment’s distraction makes, for when Nitori briefly let his guard down to resent the fact that his kouhai was taking dominance in the wrestling match, Momo had pushed back against Nitori’s hands, causing him to lose his balance on the hill of sand. Poor Nitori’s eyes widened as he felt his knees slip down, felt his head tip backwards, felt his grip on Momo’s hands tighten as he fell down into the seaweed patch, yanking down Momo with him.

“Wahhh!”

What did it feel like to have Momo’s neck slam down on Nitori’s face as he fell onto his back? Painful. Very painful, actually, with the added bonus of slight suffocation. And so was having the rest of Momo’s body topple onto Nitori, his knees just barely missing the opportunity to make Nitori infertile forever. As the pain registered, Nitori groaned into Momo’s neck with a muffled, “Ow…”

It tickled Momo, which made him spring up at an arm’s length, kneeling above the crushed boy. He could have killed his gentle senpai—that is, if they had fallen more than a foot off the ground onto something harder than wet sand and seaweed, but still, Nitori was fragile. And so Momo, worried, asked, “Are you okay, Nitori-senpai?”

He looked down at Nitori’s tussled hair, noticing the red sprinkle had landed on his bangs, and chuckled as he pulled it out. Holding it just above Nitori’s eyes, Momo said, “All this for a sprinkle.”

“But it’s off,” Nitori sighed contentedly. “Yay.”

And now that that was settled, the next issue was acknowledging the fact that Momo was still on top of Nitori in a relatively intimate fashion. Of which made Nitori blush as he realized his hands still firmly gripped onto Momo’s while he lied underneath him. Mind the fact that they were still in only hoodies and swimsuits—mind the fact that of course, in such a situation, why wouldn’t the memory of Momo’s penis from this morning spring up in Nitori’s mind, at this moment, in this position, for god knows why—mind the fact that Momo now knew what it was like to have Nitori’s lips graze his neck as he moaned—mind all of that, this didn’t have to be awkward.

“Well, I hate to break up this sweet, little moment of yours, but…”

But when Sousuke freaking Yamazaki showed up, standing on the small sand hill they fell off of, staring down at them with all the judgment of an apathetic Cupid postponing the inevitable, Momo and Nitori froze, or rather, continued to stay on top of each other, their minds blanking, their faces paling, their voices raising several octaves as they tried to laugh it off.

Man, what was this Saturday?

“Heeeeyyy… Yamazaki-senpai…” Momo greeted. “Just… uh, roommate bonding?”

I swear to God, Nitori thought, resenting that phrase entirely.

“Yeah,” Sousuke nodded, “I’m sure.”

Neither of the dimwitted fools knew what to do, nor did they have the strength to pick up their dignity and move away from each other. And Sousuke merely held his hands in his pockets as he wondered how long they’d remain in good ole missionary style, staring up at him as if he had caught them doing the nasty on the beach. If there was ever a moment to cement the thought that, yeah, his underclassmen were probably getting it on, it was this. But god, if they were trying to hide it, flirtatious wrestling on the beach in public was not exactly subtle.

The silence between all three of them grew.

And because Momo talks when he’s nervous, he asked, “So, uh, you need your radio back right now?”

“No,” Sousuke said, observing Nitori fidget underneath Momo.

“So, uh,” Momo continued, “enjoying the beach?”

“Oh my god, Momo,” Nitori shouted, “Get off me!”

How could this day get any worse for Aiichirou Nitori, he wondered as he and Momo finally moved and stood up to level with Sousuke. Yet, it was curious as to why Sousuke was there in the first place, considering they hadn’t announced where they were going when they left the academy. Was he looking for them? Did something happen?

“So, I’ll just say it,” Sousuke broke the silence. “I know about your paper cranes plan.”

See, the reason Sousuke had no qualms lending his stereo to the duo was because he had every intent of following them. Considering this morning had brought up the discussion of an obscene amount of bread, an intimate shower, and a mysterious destination for the two, Sousuke was not about to let his underclassmen engage in some sketchy activities. And like the shadow glooming off in the distance, Sousuke lurked behind the two, following them to the beach, witnessing in mild disgust Momo’s so-called performance art, and eavesdropping on their conversation with Nagisa Hazuki. He had dedicated four and a half hours of his life, four and a half hours he wished he could take back, watching these two idiots collect money for this crazy arts and craft stunt they were about to pull. Yet, from what he heard of the plan, he found noble. And when he finished explaining all of this, how he came to unravel their secrets right in front of them, he said, “So, is this like your send-off to all the third years?”

“Uh…” Momo and Nitori stammered, unsure of what to say.

“You’re decorating the pool, and that other guy is going to help decorate the rest of the gym. I’m guessing all the bread,” Sousuke said and pointed to the pile of loaves behind them, “is for sandwiches or something. You’re throwing a party for the third years.”

Momo and Nitori looked at each other, before chuckling nervously and responding with, “Ye… yeeeahh…”

Oh, halleluiah, Nitori rejoiced, for Sousuke had come up with actual logic that neither of them had for why they were performing this stunt. A send-off party for the third years with the main attraction of the paper crane pool. It was genius. The lucky bastards could only smile and shrug, nodding to all of the holes in Momo’s schemes get patched up by Sousuke’s common sense. Bless the man for making dreams come alive.

“So…” Momo twiddled his thumbs. “So, you’re not going to tell on us, right?”

“Well,” Sousuke tucked his lips into a half-frown, and said, “If you get caught, you mind get suspended for vandalizing the pool and trespassing after hours.”

Oh. Right.

“But a pool covered in paper cranes is beautiful enough to make Rin cry, probably.” Sousuke smirked, considering the thought. “Definitely.”

Was it a (not so) secret pleasure of Sousuke’s to see his best friend cry? Yeah.

“I’ll help you,” he said. “You’re going to need to hide those cranes as you make them and they won’t fit in your room. So, just give them to me and I’ll handle it.”

Momo beamed. Man, who knew how many people would be up for helping with the plan! Sure, they might have to cut some of the funds for the origami paper to buy some deli items to make sandwiches now, but all in the hands of proper party planning… now that Momo was hosting a party. A send-off party. Wait, should he buy a cake? Should he write a speech? He was probably going to have to borrow Sousuke’s stereo again for music entertainment. What day should the party be? What time?

“There’s so much to plan now,” Momo whispered, reaching over to Nitori’s shoulder. “Senpai, you can’t let me do this alone.”

“You haven’t been giving me a choice.”

But this was much more exciting than randomly putting something in the pool, Nitori felt. At least the paper cranes would be geared towards something good, a nice symbol of a peaceful future for all his upperclassmen, and there was something poetic about that.

So, after Sousuke helped them carry their supplies back to the dorm rooms, Nitori and Momo began their homework, both for school and the ultimate surprise party they were about to host. At last, Saturday could finally end and the start of something great awaited them in the morning.

Chapter Text

Despite what most people thought, Momotarou Mikoshiba and Aiichirou Nitori had a good amount of similarities, the kind of traits you’d only discover by living with someone. They were both clutter kings, and if it weren’t for the occasional hounding from clean-freak Rin Matsuoka, their reign amongst the valleys of their dirty laundry, mountains of junk, and textbook islands scattered across the floor would hold strong until graduation. Perhaps no one had ever told them the ole saying of an organized room makes for an organized mind, because as every upperclassman who had ever had to deal with these two would know, these kids were neurotically charged.

It was as if the universe had aligned the planets to put two reckless, accident-prone dorks in the same dorm room in the hopes that they would somehow figure out how to survive. Nitori was more responsible, but forgetful. Momo remembered everything, but didn’t do shit. They had two first aid kits because on the weekly, sometimes even on the daily, one of them would get hurt, all with the grace of flopping fishes hitting the deck. Momo always remembered to eat, unlike Nitori, but Nitori remembered the five food groups, unlike Momo, who more than once claimed the Triple-Cheeseburger with the works was the prime example of all five food groups and there was nothing Nitori could say to convince him otherwise. For what it was worth, these kids grew closer to each other just on the simple fact that they found someone just as bad at living as they were, and isn’t that how most friendships start anyhow?

But perhaps the biggest similarity these two shared was the daily Russian roulette of whether they were morning people.

Both Nitori and Momo had a 50-50 shot of waking up ready for the day or dreading the sun’s existence, and more often than not, whoever won the morning battle would have to drag the other out of bed—no soldier left behind. Mornings when neither of them wanted to wake up would only bring brief moral struggles as Nitori would mumble we should go to school, Momo-kun, and Momo would mutter back we’re already in school, we live here, and that was that. Back to bed.  That is, until Rin-senpai, who knew all too well about Nitori’s morning gambles, would slam open the door and force the two to go to class.

So, knowing they cherished their slumbers, you could see how Sunday mornings were sacred, and you could understand why when Nitori rolled over in bed and found an eager Momo crouched down, peering into his sleepy soul, he sighed. One would think he’d scream, but that’s assuming Nitori had never woken up to Momo inches away from his face before ready to scheme the world, and that’d just be a lie, wouldn’t it.

“Wakey wakey, senpai,” Momo cooed, poking at Nitori’s nose.

“Not yet,” Nitori groaned, tucking his head under the covers.

“No, no, no,” Momo said, tugging with Nitori for the sheets. “You promised we’d go shopping first thing in the morning if I did my homework, Nitori-senpai, and I did, so wake up!”

Yanking the covers off his senpai, Momo snickered at him as he curled up into a fetal position, shivering from the sudden wisp of breeze tickling his bare limbs. Days when Momo was the morning person on duty were particularly fun because all he had to do to wake up Nitori was pull out his beloved Pyunsuke in a jar and sing, “Oh, Pyuuuuuunsuke~! Nitori-senpai wants to say good moooorning to you~!”

These were the days Nitori vaguely hated Momotarou.

“Why can’t I say good morning with Pyunsuke still in the jar?” Nitori whined, tucking his head under his pillow.

“But who could resist such a cute face?” Momo said, delicately pulling Pyunsuke out of his jar with his fingers. He slipped the little insect underneath Nitori’s pillow. “Look at him!”

“I don’t—waahhh, no!” Nitori jumped backwards so fast you could hear the onomatopoeic slam of his back hitting the wall as he inched his knees and feet closer to him to get away from Momo’s prized stag beetle, and he yelled, “He doesn’t have a face!”

Momo gasped, and held Pyunsuke up to his heart.

“You take that back.”

 Nitori remembered the days when the loudest his mornings ever got was when Rin’s alarm clock went off, and now here he was having to apologize to an insect.

And so began Sunday.

-

To get to the bulk store, Momo and Nitori had to take the metro slightly into the city, and despite being nine in the morning, the train was full. Huddled close together by the inner passenger pole, Momo’s chin hovered above Nitori’s temple, bobbing with the movements of the train, and would occasionally bump into him.

“Sorry, Nitori-senpai,” Momo whispered, “I didn’t know so many people would be here.”

“It’s okay.”

Honestly, what was more concerning to Nitori was how small he felt, his eyes once again being at level with Momo’s Adam’s apple. Behind him bumped two bulky middle-aged men, who would grunt their apologies over their shoulders. They were sort of rude, seemingly uncaring of the cubic space they occupied with their legs spread at a wide stance and their tendency to step back into Nitori, pushing him against Momo. It seemed everything was bumping into Nitori, bullying him in jerky directions—and it wasn’t as if he was that small, but suddenly the world seemed so big. And this metro cart was too crowded, especially for a Sunday morning—why were there so many people pushing close against him?

He wanted to push back against the middle-aged men, but let’s face it, he could barely fight against Momo in a wrestling match, much less dominate over these hunky masses, probably two bodyguards straight of the yakuza. He couldn’t even tell if other people could realize that he was slowly getting crushed—did they even care that he might suffocate here? Meanwhile all he could really see was Momo’s cool breathing as he inhaled and exhaled like a normal person. This wasn’t that bad, Nitori thought, trying to comfort himself, trying to deny that he was slightly on the verge of hyperventilating, that everything would be all right if he could just get some room and it would be totally acceptable to ask for more room from these scary men behind him that were sort of trying to kill him. Sure, it didn’t help that Nitori felt like he was shrinking, and that maybe the railroad tracks made the metro shaky and dizzying, and that his chest grew tight and short of breath, and oh man, things were not okay right now, but it could be okay if Nitori just focused and—

“Hey,” Momo thumped his forehead down onto Nitori’s, locking eyes. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

It was blaringly obvious that Nitori was not at all okay by the way his eyes shifted side to side and his shoulders hunched with each accidental push the guys behind him gave. Still, Nitori had never really been this nervous before, so Momo wasn’t quite sure of what to do and figured immediate distraction was his best bet as he thudded his head with his senpai’s, hoping a soft smile would calm him down.

“It’s crowded,” Nitori muttered, clutching his chest.

Ah, Momo realized.

It took approximately two seconds for Momotarou to grip onto Nitori’s shoulders and twirl them both around so that Nitori stood closer to the gripping pole away from the men behind him. Taking a wide stepping stance to brace himself against the bumping crowd, Momo continued to hover his chin over his gentle senpai’s head and said, “There we go. Better?”

It was still crowded, but the world had shrunken back to normal and the only tall thing apparent was the happy-go-lucky redhead towering above him as per usual.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding as he leaned in to the comfort of his kouhai. “Thanks.”

“Ugh,” Momo plopped his chin down onto Nitori’s temple, which surprised him, and groaned out, “This train ride is so long when you have to stand…”

“Uh,” Nitori crossed his vision as he looked up at Momo’s head, wincing from how unexpectedly heavy it was. “Um…”

It figured. Sure enough the guy who had just rescued Nitori from furthering his downward spiral into claustrophobia was now invading his personal space, which at this point Nitori chuckled at because how could he have expected anything else. And so he poked Momo’s chest and said, “Don’t lean on me.”

“Wahh,” Momo whined, “but your head’s so comfy.”

With every fidget of Nitori’s head went Momo’s chin, pure deadweight.

“And your head is so heavy!”

“Yeah, but you’re not scared anymore, are you?” Momo nuzzled his chin down onto Nitori’s head, stopping him from fussing around as he stood in shock. “Don’t worry, Nitori-senpai. I can keep you safe.”

A faint blush colored him amazed as Nitori tucked himself under Momo’s chin, his face buried in his hands as he leaned onto Momo’s chest. Ahh, who says something like that? Most of the time Momo sputtered out nonsense, but then there were times where the kid would say something profoundly wise or undeniably romantic and Nitori never knew what to say, just always blushed, stood there in awe, and murmured, “Momo-kun…”

This happened so regularly Nitori did actually wonder why people didn’t take Momo a bit more seriously.

“I mean, one time I punched Nii-chan in the face and I’m still alive, so,” Momo laughed, “I think I have good chances at winning a fight. Maybe—no, yeah, I can kick anybody’s ass!”

And then Nitori remembered how much of a dork his kouhai was.

But still, Momo was right, the train ride wasn’t as bad now that he had shielded Nitori from the crowd. It was odd how comfortable he felt tucked under the crook of Momo’s neck, another intimate moment to add to their list of so-called “roommate bonding,” that Nitori suppressed the idea that maybe yesterday’s morning shower sort of… changed things? Why else would they be so unfazed? Perhaps showering with your roommate truly opens the door to a natural bond.

He looked up at Momo, who continued to rest his chin on Nitori’s head as he looked out the train window. He wondered why none of this bothered him at all.

-

Momo loved the bulk store. Ever since he was little. It was economically savvy. It was industrially built. It required a member’s card. He loved how vastly huge the bulk store was, since it was more of a factory than a store, and loved how he could buy fifty boxes of cereal for virtually the price of one. He loved that he could choose from a shopping cart or a moving wagon, ready to buy the whole damn store if he wanted to—and if it weren’t for the fact that his mother threatened to take away the family member’s card if he abused it, Momo wasn’t gonna lie, he would have tried.

“Okay!” He whipped out a shopping cart from the stack and hopped in. “Our budget is 8,500¥, and we have a mission to use about 80% of it on origami paper, so let’s go!”

Nitori stared at Momo sitting inside the shopping cart, his arm stretched in the air, pointing onward.

“Let’s go!”

No one moved.

“Nitori-senpai,” Momo side-glanced him, “um, I’m gonna… need you to push the cart.” He tittered, hoping he didn’t offend. “Please?”

Rolling his eyes, Nitori beckoned to Momo’s silly desire and began pushing the cart towards the Arts & Crafts aisle, where they strolled down the long corridor of various office supplies, art supplies, and paper. Upon finding the origami paper, Momo stood up in the cart, to which worried Nitori said, “Oy! Momo-kun! Get down! You’re going to hurt yourself!”

“I’ll be fine if you keep holding the cart—ooh! Nitori-senpaiii, they have all sorts of cool patterns!” Momo began collecting as many bricks of origami paper packages in his arms, each a stack of 500 on sale for buy 4, get 1 free. “I’m gonna get one of each!”

“Be careful!”

Nitori’s cell phone buzzed. Keeping one hand on the cart’s handlebar to stabilize it, Nitori answered the call, “Hello?”

“Ai-chan! So, I’m buying balloons over here with Rei-chan, right? And we can’t decide on which ones to buy. Rei wants to be classy or whatever and buy the white and black ones with some silver ones thrown in since that’s your school’s color scheme I guess, but I think we should get all sorts of colors since you’re gonna have paper cranes, and there’re some animal shaped balloons here too, so obviously that’s cuter—”

“But if you have colorful balloons, it will take away from the paper cranes’ beauty. By having a more grayscale variety of balloons, the focus will be on the initial centerpie—”

“Blah blah, what are you talking about, Rei-chan? Colorful balloons will only show how colorful the cranes are! Right, Ai-chan?”

“Um,” Nitori said, barely grasping who was talking on the phone.

“Exactly! Ai-chan says he prefers the colorful balloons, so I win, Rei-chan!”

“Er, I—” Nitori stuttered, looking up at Momo who was trying to balance too many origami packages in his arms. “Momo! Put that stuff down!”

“Whaaat? That can’t possibly be! Give me the phone, Nagisa-kun! Surely Nitori-san wouldn’t be so tacky to choose that.”

“Are you saying I’m tacky?”

“Uh… N-no…”

“Guys, I can’t…” Nitori said, torn between whom to focus his attention on, until Momo started losing his balance. “Oh god, Momo-kun!”

Or so he thought, as he watched his heart attack of a kouhai stick out his tongue as he bent down and set the origami packages in the cart before saying, “Nah, I’m all right.”

“Ai-chaaaan! I’m putting you on speaker phone! Tell Rei that you prefer colorful balloons!”

“Who’s on the phone with you?” Momo asked, overhearing the loud screams coming from Nitori’s phone as he held it from his ear at a distance.

Nitori covered the microphone end of his cell phone and said, “It’s Nagisa-san. He wants to know if we want colorful or grayscale balloons.”

“Why not both?”

Nitori shrugged and responded to Nagisa, “Er… Why not both?”

“Both?!” cried both Nagisa and Rei, apparently appalled by the compromise.

“Tell them it’s a party now,” Momo said. “Oh! And ask them if they know a place to buy a cake.”

Nitori nodded. “By the way, Nagisa-san, we’ve decided to throw the third-years a going-away party.”

“A party? I like the way you think, Ai-chan. Go big or go home, am I right?” Nagisa then whispered into the phone, “If you get expelled for all this, I’ll put in a good word for you here at Iwatobi, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

“Ex—expelled?! Don’t tell me Nitori-san hasn’t gotten school permission to do this! He could destroy his academic career!”

“Uh… We’re going to try to avoid that, but… anyway, do you know any good bakeries?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! I’ll text you the addresses of my favorites—actually, no! I’ll take you myself. We’ll try the cakes together, it’ll be fun!”

“Oh,” Nitori hesitated, “that’s all right… You don’t have to do that…”

“Nonsense, we’ll pick out the cake. When’s this party?”

Nitori nodded over to Momo, “He wants to know when the party is.”

“Saturday, around noon.”

“Saturday,” Nitori answered. “Around noon.”

“Okay! On Wednesday, we’ll go cake shopping to order it, okay, Ai-chan?”

“O-Okay…”

“Might I recommend picking out a sponge ca—”

“See you, Ai-chan~!”

“Hey—!”

Nagisa hung up, letting Nitori focus his attention back to Momo, who had filled the shopping cart with ten packages of origami paper, a total of 5,000 potential cranes. Dear god, Nitori shuddered at the concept of hand-folding such a gross amount, but even more disgusting was the fact that the entire load only cost 3,200¥, which was way below their budget, leaving more room for decorations and food (much to Momo’s delight).

Still, now was a matter of how to procure all of these cranes into existence within a week.

-

Hours had gone by of Momo nonstop folding paper cranes on the floor, trying to make his quota of 833 cranes before going to bed. Nitori tried to help, sure, but his hand cramped and he got bored, and frankly, this was insane. He propped up his laptop on his bed so Momo could see and played movies, which only ended up distracting him and not Momo, who had folded so many cranes that he was now capable of doing it without even looking down at his hands.

“Eat more of your food,” Nitori nagged, pointing at his take-in meal he brought from the cafeteria for Momo.

Earlier in the day Nitori had taken the twelve loaves of bread still leftover to Sousuke, who had convinced one of the cafeteria ladies to let them store the bread in the freezer until Friday so they wouldn’t stale by the party. Nitori didn’t know how Sousuke managed to accomplish this and Sousuke didn’t explain, but he also hadn’t explained where he was going to store the paper cranes, which he said he would pick up every morning. A man of many mysteries, Nitori concluded, and figured he probably shouldn’t ask.

“Feed me,” Momo said, staring blankly at the computer screen, which played some sports anime about surfing Nitori watched from time to time. “We should pick up surfing.”

“Okay, one, I’m not feeding you,” Nitori said. “And two, we’re not going surfing. You don’t even know how.”

“But it looks so cool, Nitori-senpai!”

The only way to truly convince Momotarou to take a break from folding paper cranes was having Nitori take over as he ate, and they took turns as they continued watching the surfing anime. Yet, midnight crept up on them and the school week started again the next morning, so Nitori shut off his laptop to turn in for the night, much to Momo’s disappointment (they were only six episodes away from finishing the second season, which didn’t seem so bad).

Momo, meanwhile, kept folding paper cranes. Crane after crane after crane.

It was half past midnight and he was folding paper cranes.

It was one in the morning and he was still making cranes.

It was a quarter to two and Momo finally yawned and realized he would have only four hours of sleep tonight, maybe.

It was two-thirty and Momo understood he needed to reevaluate his life choices.

“Oh no,” Momo looked up at the top bunk and considered all the work it would take for his body to get up there, and then peered ahead of him to his peaceful, sleeping senpai, and whispered, “Psst… Nitori-senpai…”

“Hmm?” Nitori hummed, not quite awake in the slightest.

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Huh?”

“Can I sleep with you?”

“Is your…” Nitori yawned, snuggling into his pillow. “mm, bed… broken?”

“No, but I’m tired and the bed is too high.”

“Okay…” Frankly Momo was surprised it was that easy to convince Nitori, even more so that he would say, “Get in, then…”

And with one lazy scooch closer to the wall, Nitori attempted to pat the space on the bed in front of him to invite Momo, but really, he pat once and forgot what he was doing as he started to drift back into dreamland. There was a high chance Nitori wasn’t even fully conscious, that he might have been sleep-talking, but Momo didn’t care and figured he’d deal with the reprimands in the morning. For now, he crawled into bed with the sleeping boy, tucking himself under the covers and cooed, “Goodnight, senpai.”

“Mmhmm.” Nitori rolled over to the other side, gone, a soft snore escaping his puckered lips.

Now, Momo knew this was risky because Momo tended to… sprawl. And drool. And toss and turn. And basically, Momo knew he was the worst bed buddy to have, as he would learn from childhood sleepovers, so it was imperative that Momo attempt with all his might to remember Nitori sleeping next to him so as to avoid slapping him in the face, rolling on top of him, crushing him, drooling on him, whatever crazy thing he did in his sleep—it was Momo’s only prayer that night to just conk out and sleep like a rock in one position for four hours.

And with this final thought, he fell asleep.

-

Six in the morning was probably when Momo and Nitori woke up, Sousuke thought, so he knew the chances of them being awake before then were slim. This was obvious after knocking on the door with no response. Gently, he opened their dorm room door, noticing the lights were still off. It was a bit important no one knew he was even here, so he quietly shut the door behind him before turning his attention to his underclassmen, and he said, “Hey—”

And that’s when Sousuke noticed there were two people in the bottom bunk.

That Nitori and Momo were sleeping together, tangled in each other’s arms.

Not very gracefully, really, what with Momo’s mouth wide open as he drooled on the pillow, a pool of saliva just short of sliding down onto Nitori’s head. Nitori’s mouth smeared against Momo’s neck, half-open as he snoozed, his arms and legs laced with Momo, whose body attempted to sheet itself over the tiny boy, almost pressing onto him panini-style. And yet they seemed to be comfortable, with the blanket weaved between them.

 But wow, Sousuke thought. They were already at this level in their relationship.

In the corner of his eye, Sousuke noticed a garbage bag filled with paper cranes, and so like a rogue with a mission, he snatched it up, mentally bid adieu to his underclassmen, and headed for the door. It would be the soft moan Nitori let out that would make Sousuke freeze in his tracks for a moment and look over his shoulder, slightly afraid of what he would see.

Nitori had curled up under Momo’s arms, and then murmured, “I’m cold…”

And Momo, apparently stirred enough to even hear that, swung his leg over Nitori, bringing the blanket up with him, and cocooned the both of them under the sheets.

Sousuke gripped onto the door handle.

These fucking kids.  

Chapter Text

When Momo shut his eyes last night and fell asleep, he was lying on his back, hoping to make like Dracula and sleep with his hands clasped together over his chest. This lasted maybe ten minutes. See, sharing a bed with someone had brought back the days when he would sleep with his older siblings, usually when he got scared or sad, or sometimes when he just didn’t feel like walking back to his room. And from each sibling, Momo picked up different sleeping habits—from his brother, he picked up a wide sprawl, arms and legs outstretched in every which way, but from his sister, Momo picked up… spooning, latching, cradling.

So when Momo fell asleep on his back, it took about ten minutes maybe before he found himself rolling over to one side and immediately latching onto Nitori’s back. And Nitori, who was far too deep in his REM cycles to even care what was happening, simply went with it.

And so began the puzzle piece ballet that was Momo and Nitori’s sleeping positions.

One moment they were spooning, the next they were back to back. One moment Nitori mistook Momo’s chest as a pillow, which only triggered Momo’s instinctual habit to cradle Nitori, and the next they were in reverse with Nitori’s fingers resting on his kouhai’s cheek. Their knees locked, their legs laced, their feet tucked themselves between each other. Ever restless, their arms draped over one another—over their heads, their waists, their hips, over everywhere. Countless times they tickled their noses with each other’s hair. They nuzzled closer to each other because they were warm, they grew used to each other because they were comfy, and they probably didn’t mind all the tossing and turning because they didn’t mind each other at all. One time their lips brushed, and maybe their eyes fluttered open for a brief second, but they were still fast asleep, so all either of them did was let out a soft giggle.

Perhaps neither of them would admit it, but this was the best sleep they had ever had.

And then the alarm clock went off.

Nitori was first to stir, his eyes squinting as he took in the fact that both he and Momo were cocooned by the blanket, that Momo’s face was mere millimeters away from his, that Momo was drooling on the pillow. And so, slightly annoyed, Nitori cleared his throat and muttered, “Momo-kun.”

To which Momo sniffed and grunted, “Unn.”

“What are you doing in my bed?”

“Sleeping,” said Momo, whose brows furrowed as his ears picked up the growing annoyance of Nitori’s cell phone alarm. He wiped his mouth and said, “Or trying to.”

Today’s morning roulette had determined that neither of them wanted to leave the bed, which was solidified as Nitori muttered whatever, blindly reached out of the blanket cocoon with his hand patting the top of the mini-fridge that rested adjacent to their bunk bed, and picked up his cell phone to press snooze. It was too early for this shit and Nitori just didn’t care. He didn’t care that Momo’s leg anchored itself over him or that his arms were hugging the redhead close to his chest so that he could nuzzle into the crook of Momo’s neck—because to be honest, this was the comfiest damn position Nitori had ever found himself in, like holy shit, was this why people loved cuddling? Because sign him up for morning cuddles, this was amazing. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.

Ten minutes later, the alarm went off again.

“You didn’t turn it off,” Momo whined, assuming his turn to reach out for the cell phone. “How could you not turn it off?”

Nitori yawned. “It’s Monday.”

“So?” Momo peeked his head from out of the covers to read Nitori’s cell phone screen and turned off the alarm. With squinted eyes, he barely noticed that Nitori got a text from Sousuke, and so he said, “Yamazaki-senpai texted you.”

“Don’t read my…” Ah, screw it, Nitori still didn’t care. “What did he say?”

Momo rolled onto his back, dragging Nitori with him slightly so that Nitori’s chin rested on his shoulder, and brought the cell phone back inside the blanket cocoon. He read, “Er… ‘Picked up the cranes. Didn’t wake you because well…’ And that’s it.” And suddenly the ellipsis struck a reality in Momo. “I guess he saw us sleeping together.”

Nitori groaned.

“I wonder what Yamazaki-senpai must think…”

“Really,” Nitori retorted. “It’s pretty obvious what he thinks.”

With a wide yawn, Momo stretched out his arms, making sure to leave Nitori’s cell phone back on the mini-fridge, and shrugged. They would worry about this later, much like how they would worry about getting caught skipping school later, Momo figured, ready to snuggle into bed again. One could say for a brief moment, Nitori and Momo knew what a truly peaceful morning could be, and they wondered if it was weird to enjoy it this much.

And then a pounding sounded at their door.

“Oh no, it’s Rin,” Nitori whispered.

“If we stay quiet,” Momo whispered back, “maybe he’ll think we’re gone.”

“That never works and you know that.”

“AI,” Rin shouted, pounding on the door. “MOMO. WAKE UP, YOU LAZY ASSES.”

“Oh god, he’s gonna come in here,” Nitori tried to make his voice softer, which only served to be just barely more audible than a squeak. “Quick, get out.”

“No, no, I have a better idea,” Momo said, curling himself into Nitori. “Come on, get closer. We’ll pretend we’re the sheets. He’ll never know.”

“He’ll totally know.”

“No he won’t, come on.”

“UGH, I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS.” Rin began to twist the doorknob. “I’M COMING IN AND DRAGGING YOU OUT.”

With a panicked thought, Nitori followed Momo’s stupid plan, hugging close and curling into a ball under the blanket, making sure none of them peeped out. This was so stupid. They were clearly under the blanket. They were gonna get caught and in the worst way.

“GET UP.” Rin stormed into their dorm, taking notice of Momo’s empty bunk, which surprised him because usually he had to wake the peach punk up with the loudest voice he could muster. “Where’s Momo?”

The intensity of Momo and Nitori’s silence was so high, it was almost impressive and might have tricked anyone that no one was in the room, that is, if it weren’t so obvious that at least someone was under the sheets.

“Ai.” Rin, therefore, was not amused. “I know you’re under there.”

Shit, Nitori thought. This was so bad. What would Rin even think catching him and Momo in bed together this early in the morning? He had to come up with something, anything, just to get Rin to leave the room, and if he had any balls, today was the day to use them. So with a feeble voice, he said, “I’m sick, Rin… Don’t come near me…”

At the very least, don’t pull up the covers.

“Right. You were fine yesterday,” said Rin. He began to observe the odd bumps from under the blankets. Nitori wasn’t tall enough for where certain limbs seemed to be, nor that wide, which did make him wonder if something was wrong. He didn’t look right. “Hey, come from out of there. Let me check.”

“No, no,” Nitori pleaded, his grip on the blankets tightening as both he and Momo stared into each other’s eyes, bracing for sheer utter doom. “I just need sleep, it’s okay—”

“Come on, let me—” Rin tugged on the sheets, but was shocked to feel the strength Nitori seemed to have in keeping them from lifting, as if he had the strength of two people. “Hey, let me check, Ai!”

“No, really, uh,” Nitori stumbled with his words, adding coughs to perhaps be more convincing, but this was it. This was the end. “I need to steam under the blankets—you’ll, you’ll let out the steam!”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Rin anchored his foot on the edge of the bunk bed and readied himself to yank the covers off—there was no way he was weaker than Nitori, and especially while the kid said he was sick. And with one final tug, he shouted, “What the hell is up with you—”

The covers slipped from under Nitori and Momo’s fingers, a scandal born.

“Uh,” Momo looked up at Rin, “I can explain.”

“MOMO?”

There were so many things to think as Rin held the covers over to one side, balanced on one heel and gradually registering the fact that Momo and Nitori were cuddled together on the bed. A horde of questions raced through his mind—why was Momo in Ai’s bed? Why was Momo hiding? Oh, he knew why Momo was hiding, but why was that even a situation? Did this have anything to do with them showering together? Holy shit, were they really together? Wasn’t this a little fast? Did they do things? Yesterday they went out and then came back to the dorm and cooped themselves up inside for the rest of the day, but he didn’t know why—was this why?  

Wait, but if they fooled around yesterday, like all day, then were these goddamned lovebirds trying to skip school to do that again?

“THE HELL IS THIS,” Rin shouted, immediately gripping onto Momo’s shirt and yanking him off the bed so that he fell onto the floor. “Oh no, you two are not skipping school just so you both can honeymoon it all day long!”

“No, no, no!” Nitori bounced up to his knees, his hands waving frantically. “You’ve misunderstood, Rin-senpai!”

“Ow…” Momo rubbed his butt and whined, “Rin-senpai, it’s just one day!”

“One day, huh?” Rin crossed his arms. “Yesterday you two stayed in your room all day doing… you know what, I don’t even want to know—and now you’re sleeping together! Guys.”

Momo and Nitori glanced at each other—because they knew all they did yesterday was make paper cranes for the surprise party and marathon hardcore-style the surfing anime, literally nothing else, but they couldn’t reveal all of that or the party would be ruined. So with some hesitation yet on the same mental agreement that this was the truth, they said, “We watched anime…”

“You watched anime,” Rin said, his tone narrowing in disbelief, “all day?”

Momo nodded, sticking true to their alibi, and explained, “Yeah, it’s this show called Wavetech and it’s about… surfing and some dystopian reality—it’s really cool, you should…” Momo cringed at Rin’s glare. “You should… watch it?”

Nitori grinned, adding to their claims with, “Yeah, the characters are really nice.” But his grin quickly wiped away when Rin focused his gaze on him just then. “Uh, um, Ko-Kogami Sota… is my favorite?”

Honestly, it was very possible that was all they did, which pissed Rin off, but he didn’t buy it. These two were getting way too close lately, which was fine if they were into that or whatever—he didn’t care, he understood—but not if it was going to interrupt their studies and their place in the swim club. God, these kids were so reckless. They started experimenting and suddenly nothing else mattered in the world, and it was so typical that they’d sink into puppy love, what with Momo’s diehard passion and Nitori’s tendency to obsess over anything he liked. Ugh, Rin was probably going to have to watch over these two, wasn’t he?

He let out a huge sigh, calming himself down so the fools could ease up, and said, “Fine, whatever. Just get ready and go to school. You guys love sleep too much. What are you going to do when I’m not here to wake you up?”

And Momo cheekily grinned as he answered, “Sleep.”

To which Rin kicked him in the butt.

“Ow!”

-

Things got painfully awkward.

See, because after Rin left, the peaceful mood Nitori and Momo woke up in vanished, as if their cocoon of blankets being ripped off of them served more as the awakening of their sexual tension, and things got weird.

When they began to get dressed, they faced away from each other—not that they faced each other when they got dressed, but they were trying not to think about each other—not that they actively thought about each other when they get dressed because that would be weird, but so many things had happened over the weekend between them—not that anything happened between them, but oh… perhaps they just wanted to stop thinking. They kept peeking over their shoulders at each other, occasionally letting their eyes wander, only to get nervous about letting their eyes wander and turn their heads back around. A self-conscious level of intimacy befell them as they replayed certain events in their heads—when they showered, when they wrestled, when they tangled with each other in bed, and did they accidentally kiss while sleeping or was that a dream? Oh god, did they actually dream about kissing?

“Ha, ha,” Momo broke the deadening silence, and nervously said, “Man, Rin-senpai… never gives us a break, right?”

Nitori clenched his fists, because all these misunderstandings were because of Momo in the first place, but he couldn’t even fault him because each time Nitori allowed it to happen, which made him uneasy. This morning in bed, nestled into Momo’s chest, Nitori compared it to how comfortable he felt when Momo had eased his mind on the metro, and he didn’t know what to do with this.

“Do you think we’re getting too close?” he asked, unsure if whether he should.

“We’re not doing anything,” Momo answered, but anyone could tell the same question had popped up inside his brain as well.

“Yeah.” Nitori nodded.

But what would have happened if Rin hadn’t burst through the door, they wondered. They would have gone back to sleep for a little. They would have woken up again and chatted, maybe finally pop their heads from under the sheets. They might have eaten cereal and watched another episode of Wavetech in bed, and then consider going to second period. And maybe they would have cuddled more, maybe they wouldn’t, but it wouldn’t have felt weird either way. It would have felt… normal.

They weren’t doing anything weird.

It all felt pretty normal.

“Did,” Momo hesitated to ask this, even though it was a relatively acceptable question to ask, and rubbed his neck as he continued, “Did you sleep well last night?”

But was it weird that everything felt normal?

Nitori nodded, and said, “Yeah.”

Chapter Text

What Nitori and Momo needed was some time apart, so perhaps going to class that Monday morning was a good thing, a necessary distraction. They had been spending almost every waking moment of the past three days together, so maybe what they felt wasn’t the beginning of… anything, but rather the feeling they’d have if they were trapped in an elevator in a sitcom or something.

So as Momo said his goodbyes to Nitori at the hallway to enter his classroom, he shrugged off his worries and sat down at his desk. It was just four hours of sleeping with the guy anyway—if anything, it was just an extended nap. Sure, maybe at one point Momo woke up a little and noticed that Nitori was spooning him, which was funny because how could such a small person spoon him, he thought. And yeah, maybe it was warm and kind of gave him a sense of security, the way Nitori’s arm rested over his abdomen, a presence over his gut that lulled him back to sleep with a smile resting on his face, but this was Nitori-senpai, so naturally he’d feel some sort of reassurance from the guy. It was just what senpais did, be all… calming and shit.

Honestly, how cliché would it even be if Momo started to fall for his senpai, right?

Momo didn’t want to think about it.

“Hey.”

Sitting down next to Momotarou was his swim mate, Toru Iwashimizu, first-year breaststroke blondie with the hardened personality of a prima donna sipping lemonade, unsweetened. Very few words were spoken between the two, mainly because Momo was a little scared of him, was slightly under the impression that he’d turn into stone if he made eye contact with him, was never quite sure if Iwashimizu even liked him. Oh, they were civil with each other as teammates certainly, and one time Momo lent Iwashimizu a pencil in class when he forgot his, which Momo never got back, which he didn’t mind—it was just a pencil—but that happened. Just on normal circumstances, it was odd for Iwashimizu to speak to Momo, let alone greet him casually as if they did this on the daily.

“Hey…” Momo said, cautiously setting his notebook down on his desk as he watched his swim mate sit down in his own.

But Iwashimizu wasn’t greeting Momo, rather he was merely signaling that a conversation was starting, that questions needed to be answered. Because while Momotarou Mikoshiba and Aiichirou Nitori lived in their own personal wackadoodle world, there were sectors of the boarding school—namely the entirety of the Samezuka swim team—that were deeply curious by what the slapstick couple were doing. Still, Toru Iwashimizu was no gossiping hen. Everyone has their side of the story after all, even if it were blatantly obvious that someone was getting laid.

“So,” Iwashimizu brushed a curl away from his eyes and slouched into his chair as he got straight to the point, “What’s the deal with you and Nitori-senpai?”

And here Momo thought this was going to be a nice morning.

With hesitation, he asked, “Why?”

“You know why.”

The thing about Iwashimizu is he had approximately three facial expressions that Momo knew of: his neutral bitch face, pissed, and the sly smirk that could easily translate as snarky or murderous, Momo couldn’t tell. And while with any other student this conversation could have been frat boy kiss talk, Momo partially wondered if Iwashimizu had ulterior motives to getting the details—not that there were any, with exception to the now-known fact from Saturday morning’s shower that Nitori possessed an ass worthy of hanging in The Lourve, but that was… private. Still, Momo felt bad for being so suspicious of his teammate. Iwashimizu was probably nice, maybe.

“Uh, nothing,” Momo answered, then added, “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but—”

“But you showered together,” Iwashimizu interrupted.

“Yeah, well—”

“And then spent all day yesterday with him in your room.”

“We were only—”

“And you slept with him.” He gave a careless wave of his hand. “That’s what I’ve heard, at least. Who knows.”

Honestly, Iwashimizu wasn’t trying to bombard the panicked gingersnap that was his swim mate, but here lied the rumored evidence and on some level, Iwashimizu was just trying to get the facts straight. Even for roommates, Mikoshiba and Nitori did spend an awful lot of time together (Iwashimizu barely talked with his, except to mention when waffles were being served for breakfast, which was just something any decent person would mention), so he figured maybe something was actually going on between the two. They were both kind of weird, so why not.

“Okay, but,” Momo stuttered, trying to gather his thoughts as he held his notebook firmly in his hands. How did he even hear about the sleeping thing? “You bring up good points, uh—but—”

“Yeah?”

This wasn’t a big deal, Momo told himself, so don’t make it a big deal. Man, everyone was just on their case lately. Freaking last week no one even paid attention to what Momo and Nitori did, but they do a series of slightly homoerotic activities together and suddenly everyone needs to know what’s going on between the swimming dorks, huh. Had no one ever heard of privacy? But see, if Nitori-senpai were here, he would have easily, rationally, calmly explained how everything was a total misunderstanding, which they would all laugh at on Saturday when the secret paper crane surprise party would be unveiled to everyone—and little ole Momo over here wouldn’t have had to panic about ruining everything whilst possibly implying some adulterated romance as he said, “But we’re roommates.”

Iwashimizu cocked a brow. Because they were roommates, huh. His eyes rolled over. It figured that the spunky little bro of former Captain Mikoshiba was probably a little shy about coming out, but like, they went to an all-boys boarding school. It wasn’t as if this was some radical concept.  

“You don’t have to be so nervous,” Iwashimizu said, letting out a cool breath. Maybe all Mikoshiba needed was knowing he wasn’t alone. “If I boarded with Nitori-senpai, I’d probably bang him, too.”

And there it was.

Out in the open.

Shit hit the fan.

“Wh—Wh—What?” Momo tried to laugh it off. “Whoa, wow—what?—crazy, that’s… that’s a thought, crazy, what?”

What could Momotarou even say to that?

What could Momotarou even think about that?

—banging Nitori-senpai.

“Although, to be honest,” Iwashimizu shrugged, “I always thought he was gonna go for Matsuoka-senpai. You know, the way he acts around him.” He smirked back at Momo. “I heard he roomed with him last year.”

It was safe to say that Momo’s mind was being repeatedly blown ten times over with each and every single sentence Iwashimizu said. He gripped onto his desk just to confirm that it was still there, his only proof that the world was not, in fact, shattering around him as Iwashimizu landed a series of gossip bombs onto his brain. So many statements, so many feelings, Momo just sat there in his desk, observing the curly-haired messenger bring his feet up to the edge of his seat as he slouched and waited for class to begin. He couldn’t tell if Iwashimizu was trying to mess with him, the way his face softened into its neutral bored state again. The guy was always a little hard to read, and yet Momo couldn’t help but feel this sense of support from the guy, as if this was the beginning of them as bros bonding, as if Iwashimizu was saying, good for you, Mikoshiba.

“Anyway, I was just,” Iwashimizu side-eyed Momo, “wondering.”

Momotarou just needed to calm down. What he heard was shocking, sure, but it shouldn’t have been that shocking if nothing was going on, right? No need to let his thoughts go wild or skew his memories or wonder about anything. All Momo had to do was calm down and think about—

—banging Nitori-senpai.

A tingle set off in his groin.

Holy shit.

Okay, if this was some sort of twisted sexual awakening, now was not the goddamned time, but it wouldn’t have been an issue if Iwashimizu hadn’t brought these weird thoughts into his head anyway. Momo thought they were teammates, man, what the fuck. And with this panicked notion that shit was about to real awkward if he didn’t do anything, Momo squeezed his legs together out of fear and slammed his head onto the desk.

“Hmm?” Iwashimizu stared at Momo planking his chest forward onto the wooden surface. “You okay there, Mikoshiba?”

Poor Momo’s voice raised three octaves as he said, “I’m fine!”

At first, Iwashimizu was confused and furrowed his brows as he watched Momo continue to press his face into his desktop, clearly in deep discomfort. His legs were shut tight and his feet tapped the floor like a nervous, thumping rabbit ready to be chased by the fox, and Iwashimizu merely observed him with half-lidded eyes before an epiphany struck him. Oh man, what if the peach boy wonder actually hadn’t done anything his silver sidekick? What if Momotarou Mikoshiba had never done anything with anyone at all?

Oh, this was beautiful.

“Mikoshiba-san,” said Iwashimizu, a playful leer creeping onto his face. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

“You’re so mean, Iwa-san!” Momo groaned, labeling Iwashimizu as confirmed enemy in his mind, no doubt about it.

For a brief moment, Iwashimizu vaguely felt like a dick for striking such inner turmoil within Momotarou’s heart, but how was he supposed to know that he had fired a canon at dumb ducks in the water? Perhaps it was a good thing he disrupted the peace between them and brought forth what everyone else seemed to see. So, continuing to plant the seed, Iwashimizu sighed, “Ahh, don’t worry, Mikoshiba-san. I bet Nitori-senpai hasn’t kissed anyone either.”

This did not make Momo feel better.

Oh, he just wanted class to start. Wasn’t he and Nitori running late to class anyway? How was it that he had enough time before the final school bell for Iwashimizu to turn his world upside with a sexuality crisis and it wasn’t even eight in the freaking morning yet? Not cool, man. Not cool.

Momo could only imagine what Nitori was going through, knowing that Nitori shared class with two second-year swim mates. What gossip would be shed onto his poor gentle senpai, he wondered?

“—maybe you should try it.”

“Huh?” Momo shifted his head to rest his right cheek on his desktop as he faced the blond devil that might have ruined his life, and asked, “Sorry, what?”

“If you’ve never kissed someone,” said Iwashimizu, who feathered his hands in the air as he spoke to demonstrate how silly he considered this whole thing, “then maybe you should kiss Nitori-senpai.”

Momo stared at him.

And Iwashimizu smiled as he hummed, “Just a thought.”

-

Nitori rushed up the stairway, a little ashamed of himself for running short of breath after only two flights of stairs, and entered his classroom with a hand clutching his chest. Glancing at the clock, he realized he still had five minutes left to spare and relaxed as he walked over to his seat in the middle of the classroom, right behind Shouta Nakagawa and to the right of Kazuki Minami. And by the looks of Minami’s bemused face, Nitori knew he had to prepare himself.

“Good morning, Nitori-san,” Minami purred, giving a soft kick to Nakagawa, who was sleeping at his desk.

“Huh.” Nakagawa lifted his head. He barely registered where he was, but immediately swung himself around to rest his head on Nitori’s desk anyway, and sleepily greeted, “Morning, Tori-san.”

“Ah, g-good morning.”

This was how they normally greeted Nitori, and yet he never could quite get used to how Minami always seemed to have double meanings to every greeting he gave or how Nakagawa’s head took up half of his desk before class started, but it was in their nature, he guessed. Nakagawa took short cuts in everything he did, which either meant he was lazy or creatively efficient, perhaps both. He spoke curtly and abbreviated anything he could, especially names; he always had a buzzcut so it would be easier to put on his swim cap and so he wouldn’t have to brush it; and he slept every moment he could for endurance. Minami, however, was a beaming pot of energy next to slowpoke Nakagawa, like a feline ready to pounce, ever amused by the world around him, particularly about the little gray mouse before his feet.

“I hear you had quite the weekend,” he said.

“It was okay,” Nitori said, taking out his notebook and pencil case. “You?”

Oh, Nitori knew there had to have been some rumors spreading around about what went on with him and Momo, and that was an issue he was trying to forget, but he was not dealing with this today, no sir, not today. Just slapped on a neutral expression and nudged Nakagawa’s head to the right so he could set his notebook down. Bring it, Monday.

“Pretty good,” Minami said. “How about you, Nakagawa-san?”

“Nami-san,” he grunted. “Just say it.”

Nitori looked over to Minami and asked, “Say what?”

“Nothing,” Minami answered, giving another kick to Nakagawa. “It’s nothing.”

Goddamn it.

He already knew what it was about, that he was spending too much time with Momo, that he “did” some things with Momo, that he something-or-whatever with Momo. It was about Momo. Always about Momo. No one seemed to have noticed yesterday that time when Nitori left his dorm room with Sousuke to drop the bread off at the cafeteria, but never mind that, what the hell was up with him and Momo.

Ugh, Nitori thought, no.

Nitori wasn’t bitter. He wasn’t trying to be anyway, but this morning had thrown the classical question of “what does everything mean” at him, which was always fun.

“If it’s about Momo-kun,” Nitori said, “we’re not doing anything.”

Nakagawa propped his chin up on his crossed arms, looked up at Nitori with dull wonder, and quite simply said, “Bullshit.”

Minami burst out laughing, and lightly scolded, “Nakagawa!”

“N—No, really!” Nitori stuttered, crouching forward as he made firm eye contact with Nakagawa. “We’re not.”

“Hn.”

“Okay, okay,” Minami waved them down. “If you say so.”

What was surprising to Nitori was how quick every Samezuka teammate was to accept even the smallest notion that he and Momo could have been an item. Maybe this was a reflection on the strong bond they held with each other, a second family of sorts, willing to accept any and all new relationships within the team, but did they have to be so eager about it? What did the team really think about him, Nitori wondered, to be so quick to assume he’d be swept away by his kouhai’s arms.

A faint blush colored his ears as he lingered on that thought.

Momo was the kind of guy who probably would try to literally sweep Nitori off his feet, the lunatic. He definitely had the arm strength for it and Nitori was light enough—but that’d be silly and unnecessary and wasn’t ever going to happen because no. Even if it would be a little funny and maybe a bit endearing. Momo made a lot of dumb things endearing.

“Someone’s thinking about something,” Minami teased, “or maybe someone?”

And as if on cue, Nakagawa struck an arrow to the bull’s-eye with a blunt, “Mikoshiba.”

Nitori covered his face with his hands.

Ugh, he thought, no.

-

The fact that Sousuke thought his giant ass could hop down from the top bunk and sneak out of the dorm room without Rin noticing was comical. The guy had left a half hour before they normally woke up to get ready for their morning jog, which was weird because nothing was open before six around campus anyway, so Rin was curious where he went off to. It was this little curiosity that made him plop down next to Sousuke at the lunch table, bump elbows with him, and ask, “Where’d you go this morning?”

“Secret,” Sousuke said, sipping his soft drink, unfazed, uncaring.

“Secret? The hell you mean it’s a secret?” Rin nudged him. “I’m your best friend. Tell me.”

“I keep secrets from you all the time.”

“Ehhh?!”

If Sousuke wasn’t making Rin cry, he was purposely confusing him, a favorite hobby of his. It was so easy to mess around with Rin, in more ways than one, that Sousuke couldn’t resist the temptation of seeing his best friend blank and struggle to understand what was going on.

“Are you going to do it again?” Rin asked.

And again, Sousuke said, “Secret.”

To which Rin puffed up, determined to get a hand over, and declared, “Well, fine, then I’ll just follow you and we’ll see what this dumb secret of yours is.”

“You were fast asleep.”

“No, I wasn’t! That’s why I asked you where you were.”

A very well point made which made Sousuke pout and mutter, “Shut up.”

Still, that was no good if Rin was willing to go through with his threat and follow Sousuke to where he stored everything. He’d have to let Nitori know that tomorrow morning he wouldn’t be able to pick up the paper cranes, give Rin a misguided sense that it was a temporary thing. Nitori was responsible enough, so maybe Sousuke could just have him do the deed tomorrow instead.

Speaking of which, it was then that both Momotarou and Nitori showed up separately with their trays, paralyzed at the sight of each other. Strange, since they seemed so comfy this morning when Sousuke picked up the cranes. He wondered what happened.

“Hey, Momo-kun,” Nitori was first to break the silence, and with a meek tone, he asked, “How was your day so far?”

Momo had been through a lot today in his mind, so the key thing right now for him was to be cool.

“He—Hey, Nitori-senpai!” But Momo’s typical nervous laughter rushed out of him in bunches as he spoke, “I’m great, heh, uh—you’re great, probably, yeah, ha ha, why wouldn’t you be? You’re always great—you’re great—uh, not like that, uh, no, well, I don’t know, ha ha, um…”

“Momo-kun?” Nitori was getting a little concerned. “Did something happen?”

“What?—no! Nothing happened, ha ha.” His voice began to crack. “I’m just, you know, tired—didn’t get much sleep last night actually, but—but that’s not ‘cause of you, no—you were great, super comfy, best sleep of my life, you’re amazing in bed—what, no, oh my god—that was a weird way to say it, right? Ha ha. Ha ha ha. It’s funny how words can be, wow.”

This was a train wreck.

Momo’s grip on his lunch tray tightened and he said, “You know what, I think I’m gonna eat lunch in… in our dorm, and uh, you know, make the stuff that we’re making, ‘cause we’re making a lot of stuff, and ha ha, yeah, gotta keep making it!”

He leaned his shoulders forward towards Nitori and accidentally cooed, “So, I’ll see you,” then awkwardly smiled, “later.”

And made a dash for it, leaving Nitori, Sousuke, and Rin is a perplexed stupor.

“What… the hell,” Rin said, his head slowly turning to Nitori as his eyes followed Momo escape, “was that?”

“I don’t know,” Nitori whispered, but he could tell things had taken a turn since they left for class this morning. This was no good.

It seemed that everything had changed now.

-

It was six. Nitori had just came back from the showers after swim practice and gripped onto the door handle to his dorm, knowing there was a 15% chance that everything was back to normal, despite the fact that Momo skipped practice, that Nitori never got a text to see if he needed to get them dinner, that they needed to talk. So, bracing himself for the inevitable tension, Nitori opened the door and stepped inside his dorm room.

And there was Momo, furiously whipping out paper crane after crane, as if he was training to participate in an Olympic origami tournament. In a way, Nitori was slightly relieved.

He said, “You didn’t go to practice today.”

“Oh hey,” Momo uttered, his head tilting up as he sat on the ground, surrounded by assorted patterned cranes piled on top of each other. He had forgotten how many he made since he got out of school, just rushed back to his dorm and took to distracting him in the best way he could think of. Still, Rin was probably pissed that he skipped practice today.

He rubbed his neck and said, “Sorry. There’s just a lot of cranes I have to make by Saturday.”

“Uh-huh,” Nitori nodded, looking down at the ground. This was uncomfortable. “Hey, uh, did you have dinner?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Nitori reached over to his desk and picked up his student ID. “I’ll go get us some take-in meals then.” He thought maybe he should wave before shutting the door, but didn’t. “Be right back.”

He shut the door.

Momo slunk. His head rolled backwards as he let himself lean his back onto Nitori’s bunk. As he looked up at the bunk bars holding up the top mattress, he asked himself what his siblings would say if they were here. It seemed like the sort of thing to ask them. What to do when things get weird between you and your roommate. Seijuro would probably relate it back to swimming somehow, like you should always take a break when you lose your rhythm or something, the kind of advice that’s no good when you live with the person. Yukiko, though, might have had some good advice. She was a girl who probably dealt with this kind of stuff.

So he texted her, hey sis have you ever thought about what it would be like to kiss your roommate and then things got weird.

About three painful minutes later, Yukiko texted back, the fuck.

And then, where did that come from.

And then, maybe.

And then, why?

Momo replied, how did you make it unweird.

He waited on the floor, staring down at his cell phone for what seemed like forever, as if his older sister truly had the answer to all his problems right then, and flinched when his phone vibrated and flashed the time. Yukiko’s text message read, just let whatever happens happen.

Momo stared at the text.

With frustration, he replied, yuki i’m not looking for inner peace i need help.

Yet all she replied was, good luck with your gay crisis, bro~

And a heart emoji.

Momo groaned, flinging his cell phone behind him onto Nitori’s bunk. Yukiko’s advice was noble, sure, but it was vague, and what Momo wanted was a step-by-step guide, not some tired phrase that he could have gotten from a fortune cookie. He texted Seijuro to see if that would be any better, but all he got back in return was no, nothing else, not even the swimming advice, so some good that brought him.

And before long, Nitori had returned to the dorm room, take-in boxes in hand.

The only thing Momo was relieved about now was that at least he wasn’t a sputtering pile of syllables and giggles like he was during lunch, which when he arrived back at the dorm, he slammed his head on his desk repeatedly to forget that happened at all. Funny how this morning they both were practically melted into each other, comfortable and loose, and yet as Nitori handed Momo his dinner, he could practically hear the metaphorical eggshells cracking all around them as Nitori literally tiptoed his way to his bed with his laptop. Momo wondered if someone had given Nitori the same ideas Iwashimizu had given him.

“We still have to finish Wavetech,” Nitori said, opening his laptop. “Just six more episodes.”

Momo nodded, riding his senpai’s trail of thought. Maybe if they pretended things were normal, it would return that way.

“Sure,” he said.

In truth, Nitori just didn’t want to eat dinner in silence. Since he didn’t know what happened to Momo during school to make him behave so distantly, all Nitori could do was opt for distracting entertainment. As the episode started, he noticed Momo stretch his neck upward to see the laptop screen better without the negatives. Could Nitori have leveled the screen down to let Momo see better, yeah, but there was also the option that Momo could just sit next to him on the bed, which didn’t used to be a radical idea. And that angered Nitori, because things only got uncomfortable because of what other people said, but what did it matter? Wasn’t that what Momo always said?

So, boldly, he scooted over and said, “Sit up here.”

Momo stared at the cleared spot on Nitori’s bed, repeating his sister’s text in his mind, just let whatever happens happen. He didn’t say a word, just took his dinner and sat himself on the bed next to Nitori, listening to the opening song play out in front of them. For a few seconds, it felt cramped as they both avoided touching each other, their arms flinching whenever they’d accidentally brush, and this hypersensitivity was all they focused on. Whatever was happening in the episode they were watching was absolutely meaningless compared to their knees bumping into each other when one of them shifted.

And then Nitori said, “Do you want the rest of my rice? I can’t finish it.”

“Sure.” Momo reached over with his chopsticks, nodding. “Okay.”

What was it about sharing food that made them relax more? They didn’t know, but it did. As they neared the end of their meals and began to digest, they slumped together in the bed, looking over their stomachs and feet at the laptop screen.

Their shoulders touched.

Maybe they were too full to move or maybe they were too lazy, maybe both, but they didn’t move away from each other. Their shoulders just pressed up against each other, scrunching their shirt sleeves up as they slouched on the bed. For all they cared, their shoulders were the only things about their bodies that existed. What they couldn’t tell was whether or not they were feeling each other’s heartbeats or just their own, which made them both feel self-conscious because as they mentally focused on each other’s presence, their heartbeats grew quicker.

To Momo, it was a flurry of beats thumping against the heat emanating off Nitori’s shoulder, and they were as erratic and spastic as the thoughts racing through his mind as he wondered if he should move—or would that make it weird? A part of him wanted to move just to rub their shoulders against each other since it seemed Nitori was soft and had a natural chill to his skin before it settled in to a warm-blooded temperature.

To Nitori, every time he focused on their shoulders, the heartbeats would slow down to a stop until one big gulp of a pulse beat in his chest, as if to say, stop focusing, relax. And when he did relax, the beats would tap dance all over his body, starting from the shoulders, down his arms, across his chest, and finally up to his cheeks, where he bit from inside his mouth to try and stop them.

They were so sensitive.

“Sorry,” Momo uttered, having finally gotten the nerve to speak. “Sorry for acting weird earlier.”

“It’s okay,” Nitori said, shifting himself so that he turned towards Momo, his shoulders tucked forward.

Momo only turned his head to the left, which was enough to level their faces and see each other up close. They were like this when they woke up, but it was only now that he stared. Nitori’s eyes were actually pretty wide, rounded at the corners with tufts of eyelashes poking out like wings. Pretty. His nose was this soft dollop on his face, sweet and pretty. Who knew. It turned out his senpai was actually quite pretty.

“Momo-kun,” Nitori whispered, his lips pouting.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t want things to be weird if they don’t have to be.”

Nitori’s lips were full, which meant they normally looked puckered, tempting, but Momo had only noticed this because Iwashimizu had given him the idea that maybe they were good for a kiss. Just let whatever happens happen, right? How cliché would it even be if he fell for his senpai after just one kiss?

“Um,” he uttered, inching towards Nitori, who didn’t move away.

Nitori wasn’t looking, despite being so close. His eyes looked down at mattress beneath them, as he observed how settled they had become, how close they had gotten, how their hands were so close to fiddle, but didn’t. It was that comfort again, the kind he felt on the train and this morning. He was glad it was back and smiled.

“Hey, Momo,” Nitori looked up as he spoke, “I’m glad that…”

He gasped when Momo’s hand tilted his face up.

“What are you…?”

Nitori really gasped when he realized what was going on, and immediately pulled away, “Momo!”

“Huh?” Momo’s eyes widened. Oh, fuck, this was awkward. Was he not feeling it? Was Momo the only one kind of into it? Was Momo doing something stupid? Momo was doing something stupid. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, this was the dumbest thing he had ever done and oh fuck.

Fucking thanks, sis, for the great advice.

Shit happens when you let it happen.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” Momo blurted, closing his eyes. This could probably make him cry. This probably was going to make him cry. Oh fuck, why was this happening. “I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Nitori blurted back. “It’s okay!”

“I made it weird!”

“It’s okay!”

“I don’t know what to do,” Momo whined, his eyes refusing to even look at Nitori, too ashamed to even face him. “Oh god, I made it so weird. I tried to kiss you.”

“It’s okay, Momo!” Nitori started to giggle.

“And now you’re laughing at me!”

“It’s,” Nitori giggled, “okay!”

“I would like,” Momo groaned, “to die, Nitori-senpai. Bury me in my beetles.”

“Oh,” Nitori kept giggling. “Oh, that’s so gross.” He couldn’t stop himself. “That’s… that’s not okay.”

This was the worst. This was literally the worst thing that could have ever happened to Momo on his first attempt at kissing—it was confusing, it was unwanted, it was awkward, and it made Nitori-senpai laugh. And he didn’t even get to do it.

Fuck Toru Iwashimizu and everything he stood for.

Tomorrow Momo was gonna push the bastard into the pool.

“I was just surprised,” Nitori said, having caught his breath from his fit of giggles.

“What, so,” Momo mewled, “you do want to kiss?”

Nitori blushed.

“I’m emotionally vulnerable right now, senpai—you have to answer me.”

This was tricky because, honestly, at this point, Nitori had no idea what the hell was going on—everything was such a whirlwind, he was just exhausted. All he could say for sure was that he wanted comfort more than distance, so with that in mind, he hugged Momo close to him and murmured, “I want to sleep.”

Sleeping was less emotionally damaging than kissing, Momo figured. And so he nestled into bed with his gentle senpai, before realizing the laptop was still playing Wavetech episodes at the end of the bed. What even happened in any of those episodes, Momo had no flipping clue, and so he confessed, “We’re gonna have to rewatch those episodes.”

“That’s okay.” Nitori felt the same. “We’ll watch them tomorrow.”

They lay there, hugging.

Back to normal.

Chapter Text

How does a crush begin?

Not a big crush, not the kind that both Nitori and Momo knew very well, what with their obsessions with the Matsuokas. No, not those. Big crushes were easy to figure out, the kind to sigh over as you marvel at someone’s talent or someone’s beauty, the kind that kinda-sorta-maybe take over your life, the kind that make you think about the one or soul mates or the word forever—until they end. These boys knew about those. Big crushes were the kind you see, that everyone could see, that started off with the moment you laid eyes on them. And while they felt big, no one ever took them seriously. If you fall in love using your eyes, you’ll fall right out of it when you blink.

No, not those. Subtle crushes, small crushes, the kind you don’t realize you have until you both touch, the kind you feel. Even with your eyes closed.

How do those begin?

“Are you cold?” Momotarou asked, his eyes looking past Nitori and at the wall.

“No.”

They had been hugging in bed for about ten minutes, gradually settling into each other. Nitori had managed to tuck his head in between Momo’s and the pillow, where he could puff each exhaled breath onto Momo’s left ear and watch it twitch. He was the furthest thing from cold, with his arms sandwiched between their chests as Momo held him close, and with Momo’s chin nestled into the crook of his neck and shoulder. All the heat pulsated around them as they hugged, and it kind of made Nitori sleepy.

Momo couldn’t fall asleep even if he tried. His heart pounded, his mind raced, his lips curved up into a smile as he held his senpai tight to his chest—here was Momotarou Mikoshiba experiencing every romantic cliché for the first time, and it was exciting. The eruption of his embarrassment for his failed attempt at kissing had fizzled out into this soft, lingering contentment, and yet everything felt so new. There was Nitori beginning to fall asleep, tucking his legs between Momo’s, and there was the laptop still at their feet playing Wavetech episodes. He thought maybe he should turn it off along with the lights, but he didn’t want to move. Not yet, not while he felt what it was like to hold someone who held him back.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Mnn,” Nitori stirred, mumbling, “Who is it?”

“Dunno,” Momo murmured.

Another knock at the door.

“Maybe,” Nitori nuzzled himself into the pillow as he spoke, “you should an…swer it.”

Seriously, it had to be now? Momo thought, annoyed as he slipped himself away from Nitori and stumbled out of bed to drag his feet to the door. Just when things got comfortable, just when he began to enjoy himself.

He opened the door and drawled out, “What.”

To his surprise, it was Sousuke Yamazaki, who didn’t greet him, just stepped inside, shut the door behind them, and looked down at the paper cranes scattered all over the floor. His lips pursed as he observed the size of the pile, which spanned the length of the bunk bed with a semicircle of free area where Momo sat. It was too much of an impressive amount, which made Sousuke announce, “We have a problem.”

“Hmm?” Nitori propped himself up on one elbow, giving a slight yawn as he woke himself up again. “What do you mean?”

Sweeping some cranes off to the side with his foot, Sousuke cleared the area at the foot of the bed and sat down, with his elbows resting on his knees. When he entered the room, he figured the amount of cranes Momo made wouldn’t be so bad—honestly, how many could the kid make in a few hours after school?—but now as he sat there, staring down at the hundreds of paper birds piled up to the edge of the bed, he thought, well shit. And so he sighed, realizing Plan B did actually need to happen if this stupid surprise party was going to be a success, and said, “I can’t pick up the cranes tomorrow morning,” He frowned, continuing, “which wouldn’t be a problem, but Rin thinks you guys are taking things fast.”

Momo and Nitori looked at each other, their cheeks flushing, because a little over ten minutes ago, that statement was all too real about things going fast. And still, they hadn’t even touched first base yet—for all intents and purposes, these kids finally got a slap on the ass to step up to the plate. The metaphorical game had not even started.

“So don’t pick them up tomorrow morning,” Momo said, trying to direct his thoughts back to the conversation. “No big.”

Sousuke shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. Rin’s going to check up on you guys tomorrow morning and I can’t pick up the cranes, and there’s this giant pile right here on the floor.”

“Oh.”

“Damn.” He sighed. “You guys are going to have to take the cranes yourself.”

As Sousuke dug into his pants pockets to pull out a pair of keys, he started to think that maybe this was a terrible idea, particularly when he noticed Momo’s eager face at the thought of being put on a mission. But what could they do? Technically speaking he could have taken the cranes over there right then, but it seemed to be a bit more suspicious to be sneaking out this late at night.

“Take them where?” Nitori asked, sitting up completely.

But there was Nitori, who was much more responsible, so maybe if he did it, it wouldn’t be so bad. At the very least, Sousuke could come up with a good excuse if this kid got in trouble.

“The cafeteria freezer,” Sousuke answered, handing the keys over to Nitori, “where we stored the bread, right behind them.”

“Ehhh?!”

Nitori’s fingers trembled as he held the cafeteria freezer’s keys in his hands. How the hell did Sousuke even obtain these? How were the cranes going unnoticed by the cafeteria staff? How were the freaking keys going unnoticed by the cafeteria staff? He stared down at them at his hands realizing that holy crap, there were his fingerprints touching all over them, there was the evidence, there it was.

“What do you mean the cafeteria keys?” Nitori exclaimed, trying to stifle his voice. “How did—Oh my god, Yamazaki-senpai, this is just a surprise party!” He gasped. “Are we going to get expelled for this?”

“Don’t worry about the keys,” Sousuke grunted. “It’s fine.”

“Holy shit,” Momo uttered, nearing the bunk bed. “I’m in. How do we bust in?”

“Oh god, no.” Nitori dropped the keys on the mattress. “No, we can’t do this. We’ll get in so much trouble.”

“It’s fine,” Sousuke said. “Listen, there are three keys. One for the cafeteria doors, one for the kitchen doors, and one for the freezer. You’re going to wake up really early tomorrow and be at the kitchen at exactly 5:30am, no later. You have fifteen minutes to put the cranes in the freezer with the rest, which are all the way in the back behind the meat boxes. And then you lock up and get out.”

This was not fine, Nitori thought, this was legitimately a crime. They could get caught and suspended or expelled or arrested, and how was Sousuke doing all of this? What was this guy even capable of, that he so freely considered breaking and entering? Nitori had never done anything in his life this risky. He didn’t even tempt fate by drinking mystery flavored ramune, for crying out loud. He kept good luck charms and practiced superstitious rituals because he didn’t like to fuck with that shit, okay? One time Nitori accidentally walked out of a grocery store with a magazine he was reading that he didn’t pay for, and when he realized it, he got so panicked he just threw it at the motion-detector doors and ran.

So, this was not fine.

“It’s simple,” said Sousuke, who noticed how increasingly paranoid Nitori seemed to become as he stared heavily down at the keys. “You can handle it.”

“Got it,” Momo said, not even hesitating, not even affected by the concept of sin. “You think I can take some food? You think anyone would notice?”

“Don’t steal food.”

“Like a box of ice cream—not even anything popular, like maybe lime—”

“Don’t steal food.”

“Grape? I’ll take one grape popsicle—”

“This is already a bad idea,” Nitori muttered. “Oh god, we’re gonna get in so much trouble. I haven’t even graduated yet—”

Sousuke groaned. Good grief, this was not a complicated task. It was no different than if he were to ask them to put something in his locker. But if Nitori needed reassurance, then so be it, so he said, “You’ll be fine if you do as I say. And if you get in trouble, just text me.”

And what vaguely resembled that of a yakuza boss to his henchmen, he said, “I’ll handle it.”

-

Tuesday, 5:27AM.

Oh sweet Neptune, what were they doing.

Momotarou Mikoshiba and Aiichirou Nitori were breaking into the cafeteria, that’s what they were doing.

Nitori held the bag of paper cranes in his arms as he kept look-out for anyone walking by while Momo pointed his flashlight at the lock and tried to work in the right key. He was, to put it simply, totally freaking out. It was dark, it was deathly silent, and it was the exact situation every horror story had warned Nitori about. As he stared down the alley they were in, praying no security guards walked by, he wondered where in his life did he go wrong, and the answer of course was: Momo.

Last night after Sousuke left, with the mastermind of the heist they were about the pull wishing them a casual good luck, Momo had sat down next to Nitori and tried to reassure him with a hug, because that was what they did now. Cuddle themselves asleep before waking up in the morning to commit crime. Like a g-rated version of Bonnie and Clyde. And yeah, it felt nice, but it begged the question of what was next? Making out, then robbing a candy store?

The lock clicked.

“We’re in,” Momo whispered, all too eager to utter every action movie slogan he had ever heard.

With cautious steps, they went inside the cafeteria, shutting the doors gently behind them as if they could detonate at any moment. Momo flashed the light ahead of them, remarking how eerie the cafeteria looked in the dark with empty tables and chairs scattered all over, and then pointed up ahead at the kitchen doors. Second target point. Nitori trembled as he held the paper cranes in his arms, never taking more than an inch of space between him and Momo as he shifted his head around, looking at Momo, looking at the kitchen door, looking at the cafeteria door, looking back at Momo. God, he was a wreck. This was madness. Every step they took echoed across the room loud as elephant stomps in his mind. At any moment, shit was about to hit the fan, he just knew it—what the hell were they thinking trying to do this? Couldn’t they have just hid the paper cranes in an empty gym locker or something? Wasn’t that saner?

He bumped into Momo once they reached the kitchen door, nearly ramming himself into the railway divider of the food-serving counter and the dining area, and made Momo drop the keys. The clash of the jingling pieces of metal echoing across the cafeteria like an atomic eruption, followed by Momo’s casual, “Oops.”

“Oh my god,” Nitori squeaked. “Things are already going bad. We should just leave.”

“Chill,” Momo whispered, picking the keys up. He stuck one key in the kitchen door lock, which happened to be the right one, and opened the door. “Everything’s fine, Nitori-senpai.”

They stepped inside the kitchen, Momo’s light guiding the way to the freezer. As they walked past pots and pans, stovetops and ovens, Momo marveled at how unbelievably exciting a kitchen could be when you were breaking into it. A grill is just a grill, until you slap some trespassing onto it, the fine scent of illegal activities. Alas, the freezer stood before them, hinges locked with a padlock hanging off the links. And as Momo inserted the final key into the padlock, the severity of the situation grew thicker in Nitori’s mind.

“Oh, hurry,” he whined. “I don’t want to be here—oh my god,” his voice grew quieter as his nerves sunk him down into a panic, “we’re going to get caught, and then the principal is going to kick us off the swim team and we’ll get expelled and—”

Momo held his nervous wreck of a senpai’s shoulders and said, “Listen, we’re not going to get expelled, okay?” He pointed at the bag of cranes. “Remember what we’re doing this for. This is gonna be kawaii as fuck.”

“Is it worth it?” Nitori hissed, watching Momo open the freezer door. “Really?”

But all Momo did was shrug as he took the bag of cranes off Nitori’s hands and delved into the darkness inside the freezer. Nitori stood by the door, glancing back at the kitchen entrance, where the unknown loomed all around. The only faith he could hold onto was that Sousuke wouldn’t really put them in a situation where they would get expelled, right?

This was so bad.

“You know,” Momo called out, “there’s actually not as much food in here as I thought there would be.”

“Just stash the cranes and let’s go!”

“I already did, I’m just looking arou—oh man, they have whole box of blueberry popsicles. I know Yamazaki-senpai said not to take some, but—”

“Momo,” Nitori hissed, gripping onto the doorframe.

“—I’m taking some.”

“We don’t have much time!”

“You like the coconut ones, right? I’m grabbing one of those, too.”

“Oh my god.” Nitori wanted to scream. “Just stop, please, just come out and let’s go.”

With about seven popsicles in his hands and a blueberry one in his mouth, Momo finally stepped out of the freezer, as if they were merely taking a snack break. Still, the deed had been done and Nitori was more than eager to lock up the freezer behind them, then the kitchen door, then the cafeteria doors, and then go back to their dorm, safe and sound in their beds.

And everything would have been fine until the lights turned on.

There they were, mid-way to the cafeteria doors with Momo carrying stolen popsicles and Nitori just short of pissing himself, when the cafeteria manager flicked the light switch on and asked, “Who the hell are you?”

The jig was up. This was it. This was the end.

But Momo was not swayed. In his mind, there was still a chance. He looked at where they were standing, just a few feet from the cafeteria doors to the right of the cafeteria manager, and he looked out of shape enough for them to make a break for it if they tried. So, with the life-or-death situation presented in front of him, Momo took the popsicles in his hands and plunged them straight at the cafeteria manager’s face.

“What the hel—!”

“RUN,” Momo screamed, gripping onto Nitori’s wrist, before dashing towards the doors. His shoulder slammed into the door as his hip pressed against the bar to push it open and clumsily, he plowed through the exit with Nitori firmly in his grasp.

Not one to think things through, Momo did not consider what he should do once out in the alleyway again, especially when faced with a pair of confused cafeteria staff heading his way. He froze, thinking, oh no, what now, but Nitori had tugged Momo’s hand the other direction of the alley down where the wire fence stood by the dumpster. If they hopped the fence, they could escape around the corner of the classroom buildings and get away scot-free. Do or die.

“Are you—Hey!” shouted one cafeteria staff member. “Wait!”

Momo cupped his hands to help lift Nitori up the fence by the foot, looking up to make sure he reached the top. And just then, Momo relished at how determined his timid partner-in-crime looked as he gripped the wired squares and vaulted his body over, the grace of his legs shooting over the fence like a javelin—until he landed. Nitori’s feet stumbled forward and tripped him onto his hands and knees, which scraped against the asphalt, but still panicked, he turned his head around and yelled, “Hurry, Momo-kun!”

What a sight.

“What are you kids—” The cafeteria manager started running down the alley towards them. “Stop! You’re gonna hurt yourselves!”

Cue Momo’s leap to the top of the fence, swinging his legs over. He hit the ground with his hand outstretched to grab Nitori’s and yanked him back up to dart around the corner. His heart thumped against his chest as he ran, his throat rasped against the cool morning air as he panted, and his cheeks hurt from the sheer elation he felt as they escaped. Momo didn’t really have any particular direction of where he was going, just as long as it was away from the cafeteria and so, they kept running, sprinting past the gym pool, past the dorms, past the school buildings, until they reached the other side of campus just before the park.

Once they stopped in front of the park entrance, Nitori gasped for air and bent forward to inhale as much of it as he could into his lungs. This worried Momo because he thought maybe they had run too far for too long, but then suddenly, just as shocking as the night before, Nitori started… giggling, his voice hiccupping with each high pitch giggle blurting out of his mouth. He held his stomach as he threw himself into a fit and just laughed.

“Yeah.” And this kind of made Momo laugh as well. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”

“Are you kidding?” Nitori couldn’t stop himself, apparently a nervous laugher when he didn’t know what else to do. “We’re dead!”

The sun was half-risen and where they stood faced east, with golden rays highlighting Nitori’s cheeks as he laughed. It took Momo off guard for a moment, having been unused to seeing Nitori’s skin get honey-glazed by sunrise. He didn’t know what to say, just watched Nitori bring his hands up and rub his thumbs against his scraped palms. His giggles softened, and he showed Momo his hands as he said, “I hurt myself.”

“Yeah?”

He chuckled, “Yeah.”

Nitori’s lips tugged themselves into a carefree smirk, as if to say, oh well, which made his cheeks round out his face into a sweetheart shape. Every time Momo looked at him, he seemed to notice more things. Though his senpai was on the verge of breaking down just minutes before, even the shy duckling could experience an adrenaline rush. And a sense of relief glowed from those pretty eyes of his, a flicker of wonder and awe at what they had just done.

As Nitori kept giggling to himself, he kept looking out to the sunrise, but then he noticed Momo was staring. His smile didn’t fade and he didn’t grow confused, just cocked his head to the side a little and chirped, “Momo-kun?”

And Nitori looked, well, cute.

So Momo kissed him.

He didn’t think about it this time, just kind of did it. And this was crazy, because by the time Momo realized what he had done, adrenaline had already tricked him into taking their first kiss right there in front of the park entrance at sunrise. It was so fast; he didn’t even realize he was already pulling away, his lips ghosting over Nitori’s. They kind of tingled, and they twitched up into a smile.

“You stopped,” Nitori murmured.

When they both registered what was said, they took a step back, flustered, blushing. They couldn’t look each other in the eyes, just down at their toes. Iwashimizu was right: neither of them had ever kissed before, and there they were, resisting the urge to feel their own lips, as if they had changed. And in a way, they sort of did, but the kiss was so quick, so spontaneous, that they had already forgotten what it was like.

They looked up at each other, wondering, was it good?

“Sorry,” Momo said, a little embarrassed.

“It’s okay.”

It might have been, Momo figured, because if it wasn’t, then Nitori wouldn’t have wondered why he stopped, wouldn’t have said it was okay, wouldn’t have smiled. Maybe he liked it—kind of, who knows, Momo didn’t want to assume—but he kind of hoped so because when Nitori took a step forward, so did he. And he cupped Nitori’s face in his hands, which he didn’t mean to, but this was okay, right? He wasn’t the only one into this, right? At least, Momo liked it, so maybe…

What led Nitori to take a step forward? He didn’t know, but when he did and felt Momo grip his face to make another move, he compared the morning sun to Momo’s eyes, both determined to start something new. And that was okay, Nitori thought, even though he didn’t really know what it meant, just tilted his head up and let Momo’s lips press against his.

This time it felt real.

But to be honest, Momo didn’t really know what to do and it was pretty obvious to Nitori as they kissed that Momo knew step one—press lips together—but not so much step two. It was kind of endearing to Nitori, which let him muster up the courage to part his lips and take a daring suckle. He might not have ever kissed anyone either, but Nitori had read enough… material to give him a good idea.

Still, it was a shy kiss. Gently, their lips left tiny, tender kisses on each other, like butterflies nipping against flower petals—quick, soft, and numerous. One kiss, two kiss, a lingered three kiss, and more, as they felt each other breathe against their cheeks and listened to the muted clicks of their tongues with caress. A flurry of heartbeats rushed through them, made their cheeks tingle, made them smile.

Nitori was first to break away, embarrassed for having gotten caught up in the moment.

“Huh?” Momo opened his eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”

“N—No,” Nitori stuttered, looking away. “It felt nice.”

It felt amazing, Momo thought. No one ever told him that kissing would make his heart beat behind his ears or how the soft, slow graze of Nitori’s lips against his could shoot a sensation down to his groin; it was kind of sexy. His mind cleared and all he really thought when they kissed was how wonderful it felt, and maybe how nice it could be to hold him. As he looked at Nitori, who fumbled with his own thoughts, Momo realized the earnestness of his desire. Nitori-senpai was a game changer, a secret beauty right under his nose, a newfound crush.

“Hey, Nitori-senpai,” Momo chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I know I freaked out about it yesterday, but…”

He hesitated, watching Nitori’s curious glance meet his eyes, and wondered if maybe this was too soon, maybe he was still shot with adrenaline in his veins and everything just seemed like a good idea, but he shook his head. This wasn’t a figment of his imagination.

So he confessed, “I think I like you.”

And when he waited for a response, all he got from Nitori was, “Oh.”

Chapter Text

Well, this was supremely awkward.

Honestly, Momo wasn’t expecting much, but okay, maybe hefigured he’d get a little bit more than a simple oh. Like an embarrassed smile or something—ideally a me, too, but not a somewhat registered oh. Still, things like this happened all the time, right? Especially in shoujo manga, which Momo read occasionally whenever a chapter of some series popped up in a serial magazine—not on purpose, just it was there, you know? So, this was a scene he knew all too well. The confessor throws caution to the wind and lays it all out there, and sometimes the love interest doesn’t know what to say. A typical cliché. Nitori was the cautious type, after all. Technically an oh wasn’t a rejection.

And yet, despite the fact that Momo had seen this scene play out a thousand times before with happy endings and everything, despite the fact that he was literally kissing Nitori a couple seconds ago, despite the fact that it had justdawned on him that maybe he liked his senpai, maybe he had feelings, maybe this was something he wanted, but certainly not something he had been dwelling on for months or anything—despite the fact that this was a lighthearted confession, when Nitori said oh, it hurt. This was, perhaps, the first time Momotarou Mikoshiba had ever felt… foolish. Imagine that.

“If… if you don’t feel the same way…” So Momo tried to save face and said, “It’s okay.”

“Huh?” Nitori snapped back to reality. “No, no! That’s not what I meant!”

See, Nitori was merely trying to catch up with the events that had just played out before his eyes. Today was a day of many firsts, after all. First time he had ever broken into a building. First time he had hopped a fence, running away from authorities. First time he kissed someone, which served as a double whammy as it was also the first time he kissed a boy. In the spectrum of living a grand life, Nitori had accomplished more in the past forty minutes than all sixteen years he had ever lived.

It was, in short, a little overwhelming.

“I don’t know what to say… I’ve never been confessed to before,” Nitori said, his hands fiddling with each other behind his back. His word choice was poor, that he realized, but when Nitori said oh, it acted like a checkpoint in his head. All that comfort he felt around Momo that he had questioned, that he had wondered why he enjoyed it and missed it—well, it all seemed so obvious now, a literal dawning before their sunrise setting, an epiphany, an oh.

“You could say how…” Momo fidgeted in place, mumbling, “you feel.”

But what did Nitori feel? If he thought about it, then yeah, okay, maybe Nitori was oddly open-minded about doing, uh, stuff with Momo, considering it felt nice to kiss him, cuddle with him, sleep… with him, be… with him? This felt strange, the kind of strange that made him want to squeeze his heart out of existence so that he didn’t have to wonder what it would be like to have Momo call him Ai.When did the intimacy start to feel so normal?

He took a deep breath and said, “Okay.”

Momo didn’t quite catch that, and so he uttered an eager, “Huh?”

Nitori had to say it out loud, which made him fidget, his foot rubbing his ankle from behind as he deliberated how to go about responding. Did he like Momo? Well, yes, he liked him, but did he like him? Did having his heart flutter and skip mean he liked Momo? Probably. That seemed cliché enough. But sometimes his kouhai was too annoying, but in a silly way—not an infuriating way, like an endearing way, a charming way, a—wait. Was he making excuses to convince his own damn self that Momo wasn’t annoying? Because he was. He definitely was. Nitori was essentially on the verge of getting stomach ulcers over Momotarou’s madness, that’s how annoying he was.

And yet, as Nitori felt the piercing gaze of Momo go through him in hopes of an answer, he couldn’t help but think, but he means well, that he was sweet, that he was dorky, and crazy, and very loud, but fun and… oh.

His ears blushed as it settled in, and so he nodded and said, “I think I like you,” and looked straight down at the ground, “too.”

“Ye—yeah?” Momo blurted, his chest jutting forward, which he pulled back and cleared his throat before answering calmly, “Th—that’s cool.”

Still looking down at the ground, Nitori gave a flustered nod as he said, “Uh-huh.”

One would think after having mutual confessions that these two numbskulls would giddily embrace and proceed to enjoy a happy ending, but that would imply that they knew what they were doing, which they did not. Not even in the slightest. As they stood in front of each other, digesting the fact that they both kind of dug each other in that way, they tried to remember the basic things: how to breathe, the Japanese language, the laws of physics as to prevent themselves from falling to the ground, their own names. You know.

And when they looked at each other, they wondered, so, what now?

“Want,” Momo broke the silence, “to get breakfast?”

All this excitement did stir up Nitori’s appetite, but there was the harsh reality before them, and so he said, “We can’t. We… probably can’t ever return to the cafeteria, actually.”

“Oh, right.”

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other, smiles creeping onto their faces.

So this was what it was like being fugitive lovers, they thought.

It felt kind of nice.

-

“You think it’s too late in the school year to cancel our meal plan?” Momo said, as both he and Nitori stood in front of the chalkboard menu of a diner down the street from the school.

Nitori opened the door, sighing, “Probably.”

Now that they had royally fucked themselves over with essentially banning themselves from the cafeteria—at least, until the cafeteria staff forgot their entire existence—Momo and Nitori found themselves sitting at a booth across from each other at six-thirty in the morning on a Tuesday. They had to figure out their life now in terms of what they could eat, which at this rate amounted to just cereal and instant ramen. And rice. Nitori vaguely knew how to cook rice. But only in a rice cooker. Better than nothing, right?

They agreed to invest in a rice cooker this afternoon.

Not even an hour after mutual confessions, and the two were already thinking about buying kitchen appliances together.

“We’re going to be okay, Nitori-senpai,” Momo chimed as he observed the laminated menu in his hands. “I could keep dancing in the streets on the weekends for grocery money.”

“Oh my god,” Nitori groaned. “Don’t make it sound like you’re whoring yourself out.”

“I’m just saying, I can provide for the both of us.”

Gah, that was too sweet and too embarrassing, Nitori thought, trying not to smile or blush or give any sort of fuel to Momo’s whims as they looked over various types of breakfast omelets. Not that Nitori was actually reading the menu, rather he was just staring at it and trying not to think too much about kissing Momo and failing hardcore at trying not to think too much about kissing Momo and wondering holy shit, how could he have kissed Momo and liked it and like him and confess that and accept that? And more importantly, how could he sit across from Momo at the booth and still act cool and collected and capable of breathing? Was this real? Was this actual life? Was this some incredibly lucid dream, playing out an odd fantasy Nitori apparently had about ordering eggs at a diner after making out with his roommate? No, that would be far too specific. This was happening.

Oh god, this was happening.

What does one do now that they might potentially be in a relationship? Were they dating? Were they just kissing? Were they testing things out? It had never occurred to Nitori just how many levels of layers were involved in liking someone and how torturous it could be. Sure, they established mutual feelings, but what did “like” mean anyway? It wasn’t as strong as love. They weren’t in love. Well, it wasn’t as if they couldn’t fall in love, but not so soon. That’d be crazy. This whole thing was crazy.

Nitori looked over his menu at Momo, who smiled, his eyes beaming with his usual overconfidence and exuberant effervescence.

Oh god, there was a distinct possibility Nitori could fall in love with Momo and that shit was crazy.

“Know what you’re going to order?” Momo asked.

“Huh?” Nitori shook his head, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, sort of.”

But alas, Nitori was not the only one going through a fit of butterflies, as Momo reevaluated himself as a person. Considering his failed attempts at nabbing the heart of Gou Matsuoka, Momotarou was no stranger to rejection and he was all too aware of Nitori-senpai’s admiration towards Rin Matsuoka and, on some level, Sousuke Yamazaki. But he had one thing: Nitori’s reciprocation. Now was the time to solidify everything. He needed to build muscle. Establish dominance. Roar in the faces of his inferiors. Become a man.

Or maybe not, now that he thought about it. They had more of a comfort-lust going on apparently, what with their nightly cuddles-to-sleep gig as of late. Maybe all he needed to do was provide his senpai with safety. And he was reallygood at taking care of his beetles, so it was practically the same. Momo would be the best boyfriend, like mega boyfriend—wait, was it all right that he was calling himself a boyfriend?

“We need to go on a date,” blurted Momo, a little ahead of his thoughts as he set the menu down and confronted Nitori, who froze.

“Uh,” Nitori hesitated, “Shouldn’t we order breakfast first?”

“I’m serious, Nitori-senpai.”

“Okay, but,” Nitori pointed at his menu, “after breakfast.”

“Awesome, great. Are you free today?”

“Momo.”

“Oh, wait, no, we can’t. I still have to make cranes, okay,” Momo shook his head. “Are you free tomorrow?”

After a moment of thought, Nitori answered, “Oh… no, I’m not. I have to choose a cake with Hazuki Nagisa tomorrow for the party.”

“Okay, then what about Thursday?”

There wasn’t much of a rush to go on a date, Nitori figured, considering they saw each other every day, living together in the same dorm and all, but he supposed this seemed necessary to Momo if they were honestly taking things to the next level. But the fact of the matter was, he said, “Momo-kun, do we even have time for a date this week? What about the surprise party?”

And with no hesitation, not one bit of doubt in his tone, Momo answered, “We’ll make time.”

It was enough to make Nitori swoon so much that he shoved the menu over his face to hide his bashfulness. Ah, too dangerous, he thought. The distinct possibility of falling for Momo right there, right before his earnest charm, was too dangerous indeed.

-

Sousuke wasn’t sure if he explicitly asked to be texted after Momo and Nitori dropped the cranes off in the cafeteria, but when he went to check up on them in their dorm room around six-thirty before going on his jog with Rin, there was a small cause of concern when they weren’t there. It was supposed to take fifteen minutes. Where the hell could they be?

“You’ve been kind of tense this morning,” Rin said, breaking the silence as they jogged across the beach boardwalk. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

Maybe something did go wrong, Sousuke thought. Assuming they got caught, it should have still been fine. Listen, he knew the two were not the brightest buoys in the sea, so he figured he’d tip the cafeteria staff that he lent the keys to them so they could store the cranes in the freezer before their work shift. That way nobody had to freak out or anything. The staff was a little hectic in the morning, so the last thing they needed to care about was some kids trying to bring paper cranes to them in the morning. By doing it before their shift started, everything should have been fine. In retrospect, Sousuke probably should have mentioned that Momotarou and Nitori weren’t doing anything wrong in the first place.

Sousuke had issues with communication. He nodded to himself. Something to work on.

“Well, you’re thinking about something,” Rin insisted.

“Just worried about Ai and Momo.”

Rin furrowed his brows. Worried about Ai and Momo? What could that possibly mean? They were innocent dumplings, little balls of sunshine even; what could they even do that could worry—oh wait. Right, Rin realized. They started dating, doing that whole thing in bed, maybe, who knows, he didn’t like to think about it. Not his business. But wait, why? Did Sousuke see something?

“Yeah, I guess they’ve been getting close,” Rin said, trying to understand what the mystery that was his best friend meant.  

“No, I think they got caught.” Sousuke glanced over to Rin, realizing that this was something he shouldn’t have mentioned since it involved the surprise party, so he attempted to play it off by shrugging and said, “But you don’t need to worry about it.”

“Got caught? The hell you mean they got caught? You mean, caught-caught?”

Holy shit, Rin panicked. He had to focus on running before literally tripping over himself at the thought of Momo and Ai getting caught doing… oh god. How did they even… When? Where? Did they even know what the hell they were doing?

“Don’t worry about it,” Sousuke said, realizing that he might have sent off the wrong message, which he guessed from the flabbergasted shock and awe Rin had in his eyes as he fell in deep thought. Another communication issue. Truly, something he needed to work on.

This was not something to freak out over, Rin told himself. Their lives; their decisions. It’s not as if Aiichirou had become like a little brother to him, innocent and pure—because in truth, the little silver spoon knew things even Rin didn’t know. Like subcultures and shit; freaky stuff. Rin remembered those magazines he once found, which he didn’t ask Ai about—because frankly, that was just not a conversation he wanted to have. Bros don’t ask about other bros’ porn.

“I can see that you are getting the wrong idea,” Sousuke said, nudging Rin’s elbow as they jogged, “and I’m telling you to stop.”

“What?” Rin jerked his head up. “Oh, yeah, no—no, you’re right. None of my business.”

“It’s not even about—”

“If they want a future together, this is good. Good for them.” He took a deep breath. “In some ways, I’m proud.”

“Rin, that’s not—”

“If I’m going to be honest, I can’t help but think they’re doing it right now.” Rin stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m texting them.”

“What?”

Did Rin feel a little bit of shame, knowing he could potentially cock-block his kouhais?

The short answer was nope.

“I can’t believe you,” Sousuke said, shaking his head.

-

What was weird was that it wasn’t as if Momotarou had suddenly become more attractive to Nitori, but somehow, as the ginger boy wolfed down pickled vegetables with fried egg, he was. This was something to get used to, as Nitori observed Momo’s facial features, having realized that for the longest time, his kouhai had been just a whir of a vibrant memory as opposed to a distinct, handsome face.

Somewhere, Nitori read that if you stare at someone long enough, you can trick yourself into falling in love, but he never believed it—and he still didn’t—because frankly, it seemed stupid. If anything, it was less about the act of staring and more about the reason why you were doing it—that by staring at Momotarou’s face, Nitori took effort in observing it, remembering it, making it important. This was the face that looked as warm as it felt on his lips.

“Can I ask you something?” Momo asked, setting his fork down. His shoulders hunched forward as he tucked his hands back into his lap. “You didn’t just say you liked me because you felt bad, right?”

Momo’s face had natural highlights around his eyes and cheekbones, which were actually just parts of his face that didn’t tan from having worn his swimming goggles for too long. Clusters of freckles scattered like little shadows under his eyelashes, too faint to be noticed by his copper-tone skin on quick glance, and when he frowned, his lips pouted with a ruby patch peeking out. Momo was like a man born out of the sun, Nitori determined, whereas Nitori reflected the pale moon hidden in morning, peeking through clouds to watch the sun shine.

He might have been daydreaming.

“Nitori-senpai?”

“Huh?” Slowly coming out of his daze, Nitori repeated each word he vaguely heard in his head and responded, “What?”

“Uh, well.” But it was clear Momo regretted saying anything, and he muttered, “Never mind.”

Momo lacked the ability to think before speaking, which was the main reason for his brutal honesty and tendency to get right to the point. Maybe it was because nothing really felt different even after confessing and kissing and proposing a date, as if this was but a mere addition to their wacky routine. So, maybe it still felt unreal.

“This is going to sound stupid, but,” Nitori said, looking down at the table at their meals, “I’ve never actually looked at your face before.”

Momo didn’t know how to take this.

“Um.” So he paused for a moment, and then asked, “Do you… like my face?”

To which Nitori nodded casually as he ate some eggs and hummed, “Mm-hmm.”

“That’s cool,” said Momo, who grinned, scratching his cheek with his index finger as he grew bashful for a moment. “Actually, I think you’re kind of beautiful, Nitori-senpai.”

How many times could Nitori’s heart explode this morning, he wondered, frozen in his seat as he held his eggs with his chopsticks, mid-air. He didn’t really know what to do since no one had ever been this nice to him, or rather, this romantic towards him, and Nitori only knew about shoujo’s over-the-top reactions of throwing himself at Momo with open arms and poetic monologues, but that was too embarrassing and Nitori stumbled over his words too much. So he sat there, stunned, and murmured, “Momo-kun…”

And then his cell phone buzzed, scaring the shit out of him.

Now was not the time to have a surprise vibration set off next to his groin.

Fumbling inside his right pocket, Nitori pulled out his phone to read a text message from Rin that read, where are you, which concerned Nitori since it was only seven in the morning and classes didn’t start for another hour, so maybe something serious had happened. He wasn’t sure what, but you never know.

So in reply, Nitori very calmly wrote, NO WHERE. WHY?? DID SOMETHING HAPPEN, RIN-SENPAI??? IS EVERYTHING OKAY?? GOOD MORNING!!

Just to show he cared.

“Rin-senpai texted me,” he told Momo.

“Yeah?” Momo nodded. “Tell him I say hi.”

Rin texted Nitori, nothing’s wrong. Are you with Momo?

And Nitori wrote, OKAY, GOOD. MOMO SAYS GOOD MORNING TOO!!

It was no small secret that Nitori was a bit enthusiastic when it came to Rin, so Momo didn’t pay too much attention to the fact that the conversation had switched to what Rin was texting, which seemed like an interrogation with each passing question of where they were, what were they doing, why were they doing it, how long were they going to take, could they take a photo of their food to prove they were eating food—preferably with today’s newspaper?

“That’s kind of an odd request,” said Momo, who helped rearrange his food next to Nitori’s in a manner that seemed presentable, taking care to set the little vase of flowers just to the right of their plates as a nice touch.

“Rin-senpai is a bit interested in our breakfast…” Nitori said, standing up to position his phone’s camera at an eagle-eye view. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

And all seemed pretty normal until Sousuke texted Nitori, Did everything go well?

Ah.

“Um,” Nitori hesitated, looking up at his kouhai, “Yamazaki-senpai just asked about the cranes…”

And immediately, Momo said, “Don’t tell him.”

“We have to tell him!”

“Why mention the negative? He doesn’t have to know that we can’t ever go back to the cafeteria,” Momo said, shrugging.

The fact that Momotarou honestly believed they could hide the truth from Sousuke was pure and simple denial, mainly because the two had already made it a custom to eat with the guy every single day at the cafeteria, and it wouldn’t take long for the brooding shark to connect the dots. And while Momo tried to make it a lighthearted affair, twirling his chopsticks in his hand as he brushed off the fact that they were now criminals at large, Nitori knew the truth needed to be said.

He took one moment to think and then began typing his reply as he said, “I’m telling him.”

“Then, uh,” Momo stammered, trying to come up with a solution, “Tell him we’re dating first!”

“What? No,” said Nitori, who wasn’t trying to shoot the idea down, but he argued, “That won’t make any sense. It’ll come out of nowhere.” But with such a disappointed pout from his normally energetic kouhai, he gave in and said, “Fine…”

And so, he calmly wrote Sousuke, EVERYTHING WENT HORRIBLY WRONG. WE CAN NEVER GO BACK TO THE CAFETERIA. MOMO THREW POPSICLES AT THE MANAGER. BTW, MOMO AND I KISSED. SHOULD BE OKAY, THOUGH. WE’RE BUYING A RICE COOKER. GOOD MORNING!!

That should answer everything, right?

-

Sousuke stared down at his cell phone and sighed.

Goddamn it.

Chapter Text

“They broke into the cafeteria?” yelled Rin, storming down the hallway to Nitori and Momo’s room. “Why the hell would they do that? What is wrong with them?”

He stopped abruptly, turning towards Sousuke, and accused, “Did you know about this?”

And like a champ, Sousuke said, “Nope.”

There was a significant amount of information Sousuke had to take in from Nitori’s mission: failure text, from the fact that clearly Momo deliberately disobeyed the “no stealing food” rule to the more serious fact that Momo then decided it was a brilliant idea to throw the said stolen food at the cafeteria manager. Sousuke wasn’t even going to question why. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a surprise that things went horribly, horribly wrong, but he kind of hoped that maybe instead of the odds being 75% failure, it would be, oh say, 0.

The latter part of the text message, however, confused Sousuke. What did Momo and Nitori kissing have to do with buying a rice cooker? This was the question that stuck in Sousuke’s mind after telling his two kouhais to head back to the dorms for a severe scolding, a scolding which begrudgingly involved Rin since he too managed to interrogate the truth out of the timid one.

Was there something romantic about buying a rice cooker? Was this a traditional gift couples bought to celebrate their relationship? Seemed a little too old fashioned for the early stages. Although, now that Sousuke thought about it, he wasn’t exactly sure how long Nitori and Momo had been dating. Sure, these past few days, they had been displaying some signs here and there, but who knows how long this crazy thing had been going on. Maybe a rice cooker was a commitment thing. Rice was a symbol of marriage in some cultures.

Sousuke wondered what the chances of his underclassmen eloping today were.

Probably 50-50.

“Holy shit, what if they get suspended?” blurted Rin, bringing much more prevalent consequences back into Sousuke’s mind as he continued to pace down the hallway to Momo and Nitori’s room. He muttered to himself, “Oh, no way in hell.”

Rin was a goddamn captain. This wasn’t going to be the first year that freaking Samezuka Academy had not one, but two swim team members get suspended. Oh no. Not under his command. Seijuro would be scolding him for years. Ugh, he didn’t even want to think about it. How could you let my little bro get suspended? You’ve turned the Mikoshiba name into a Mi-catastrophe. We’re Mikoshibas, not Mikoshitboys.

There is nothing worse than being scolded with lousy puns.

He slammed their dorm room door open.

“YOU TWO NEED TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF RIGHT—”

But his voice hitched at the sight of a love scene about to be had.

Uhh…

Now, it wasn’t as if the sight of the two numbskulls stripped down to almost nothing but their underwear was actually shocking. Years of being on several swimming teams rendered Rin desensitized to male nudity, but by the proximity of their crotches as Nitori sat on his desk spread eagle while Momo clutched onto his senpai’s hips, you could say this was a little scandalous for his eyes.

Color Momo volcanic, though, because his torso blushed from his head to his groin, with a slight implication that blood was beginning to rush somewhere else. Frozen, Momo stared straight at his exhibitionist lover, refusing to break eye contact. A hint of determination seemed to calm Nitori as he nodded and grunted a quick un, just before the two of them smashed their lips together to seal the deal, an erotic tongue swap fiercer than a python battle.

But never mind that.

There was an explanation for all this.

-

Fifteen minutes earlier, both Nitori and Momotarou were appropriately clad and completely unaroused—they were so unaroused, they were, in fact, panicking.

“How could you tell Rin-senpai we broke into the cafeteria?!” exclaimed Momo, who was pacing back and forth inside their room, awaiting the inevitable arrival of both Sousuke and Rin.

“I didn’t mean to!” Nitori whined, “You know I can’t keep secrets from Rin-senpai—and he kept asking. What was I supposed to say?” He sighed. ““Sorry, Rin-senpai, Momo-kun and I are never going back to the cafeteria because we want to explore our palette?’ You only like junk food, Momo, so you’d make a terrible foodie!”

“Okay, first of all, how dare you,” Momo said, “I would be very open-minded to the junk foods of the world, Nitori-senpai. Second, you didn’t have to tell him anything!”

If they didn’t come up with an excuse in the next few minutes, then the jig was up, which would have been more tragic for Momo than Nitori, considering the boy had folded hundreds upon hundreds of paper cranes, risking some pretty severe carpal tunnel syndrome. Having potentially gotten himself suspended from the cafeteria, Momotarou Mikoshiba was in too deep, and at this point really, it was a matter of principle getting to Saturday’s surprise party more than anything else.

“We have to come up with something,” muttered Momo, pacing around the room as he dug his fingernails into his scalp to wrangle any ideas out of his brain. “What are reasons people go to cafeterias?”

“Generally the one,” Nitori answered, “to eat.”

See, but they couldn’t use hunger as an excuse for breaking into the cafeteria. For while they were at the diner, Rin was curious enough to ask why they even bothered to pay for food when there was free food in the cafeteria, to which Nitori straight up panicked and said, YES, THAT IS SO TRUE, BUT MOMO AND I CAN’T GO BACK TO THE CAFETERIA  OR WE’LL GET ARRESTED AND I’M SO SORRY. I HOPE WE CAN STILL BE FRIENDS.

Cryptic allusions to illegal activities? Cue the interrogation. Rin demanded to know what happened. What could they have possibly done in a cafeteria to get them banned for life? And how had he not learned about this before?

Being weak, Nitori confessed, WE BROKE IN, BUT WE DIDN’T STEAL FOOD!! EXCEPT POPSICLES, BUT NOT REALLY BECAUSE MOMO THREW THEM AT THE MANAGER GUY, SO THEY STILL HAVE THE POPSICLES.

And when Rin asked what they did instead of stealing food, Nitori—furthering the downward spiral—tried to play coy and texted, I CAN’T TELL YOU. GOODBYE!!

Some scolding and empty threats later, this is how Nitori and Momotarou found themselves trying to come up with another excuse for why they broke into a cafeteria. But gah, Momo was coming up with nothing and there was no time! And so, from a childhood of running to his onee-chan to come up with good alibis for all his crimes, Momo took out his cell phone to text his sister.

This was going to be the second day in a row he’d ask for Yuki’s help, which she’d probably use against him, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Yukiko was the kind of sibling who could get anyone out of trouble with a good enough lie—something about middle children being sneaky and cunning or whatever Freudian psychosis out there dictates, but such were the sibling dynamics. Momo got in trouble, Yuki lied her way out of trouble, which was good because if she didn’t, then they both were about to be in trouble with Seijuro. Older brother don’t play.

And so he texted her, hey yuki, so besides being really hungry, what’s a reason why someone would break into a cafeteria? just curious

And ever timely, she responded, bro it is 7 am wtf

“Who’re you texting?” asked Nitori, who lied himself on the bed, arms stretched out on his mattress crucifixion as he patiently waited for the beginning of the end. Maybe if he lied there still enough, he would just disappear.

“My sister,” Momo mumbled. He knew he had to be a little patient with Yuki’s answers, who liked to text in parts instead of all in one shot, for dramatic effect, to truly capture the apathy in her tone.

And as expected, she continued, uh idk sex?

This was not the kind of answer Momo was expecting.

She elaborated, one time two students got caught having sex in the cafeteria.

“What’d she say?” Nitori asked.

Momo hesitated, avoiding Nitori’s gaze as he digested their possible alibi. The elements were already set up perfectly for the idea to seem plausible. Rin found them trying to hide the fact that they “slept” together, multiple people already assumed they were dating after the shower incident, and even Sousuke caught them in a suggestive position at the beach. They could use the misinterpretations to their advantage, Momo thought, observing the way Nitori lied on the bed with his arms and legs stretched out like a starfish.

So he said, “We could say we tried to fuck in the cafeteria.”

Nothing was said for a moment.

“What.”

“Okay, hear me out—”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Call him self-conscious, but Nitori closed his legs, crossing his knees as if to secure the mental chastity belt locked on his crotch. What kind of crazy ideas was Momo’s sister giving him? That was not a solution. If anything, it was just going to get them into more trouble, and besides, he said, “We literally had our first kiss an hour ago.”

“And it was the most magical experience I’ve ever had, Nitori-senpai, but—”

“Oh my god.”

Momo knelt down on the ground, scooting closer to the edge of the bunk bed as he reached for Nitori’s hands to clasp in his own. Here it comes, Nitori thought, closing his eyes to dissuade him from falling for any peach boy charm, but he knew as he felt soft finger pads tease his palms and felt the weight of Momo’s elbow press down on the mattress as he leaned forward that his fate was sealed. He lied there, hand in hand with Momo, and wondered why he ever thought their relationship could develop at a normal rate.

“You and I would know the truth,” Momo said, squeezing Nitori’s hand, “so what does it matter?”

It mattered because Nitori didn’t even like taking off his towel when he changed in the locker room, let alone hypothetically risk getting caught doing the nasty by a poor, unsuspecting cafeteria manager. Even if he had the gonads to claim he was an exhibitionist daredevil in the sheets (or should he say, out of them?), the lie would only go so far until Nitori would eventually break down and fess up the truth. And Momo was no better of a liar anyway. What with him being a stuttering, manic mess under pressure, Momo would probably at some point compare his dick to the popsicles he stole and make some ungodly pun about blueberry popsicles, more like blue-balled… test…ti…cles?

They were bound for disaster.

Momo said, “Besides, everyone already thinks we’re banging anyway… You know, cause of…”

“I know,” said Nitori, opening his eyes as he sat up. The last thing he wanted to do was feed fuel to the fire, and spreading a rumor about them sneaking a sexy midnight snack in the cafeteria seemed like a particularly bad idea. But he couldn’t use logic with this kid. He had to go for the raw truth, and so Nitori said simply, “But we suck at lying.”

A fact Momo did not consider.

“Um…” He bit his lip, trying to come up with a solution.

“I mean, that’s why we’re in this mess,” continued Nitori. “The only reason we’ve gotten this far without anyone finding out the truth is because people keep assuming things based on whatever crazy thing they see us doing.”

Oh, but Nitori shouldn’t have said that.

Because it was that statement that had a solution click inside Momo’s brain. It was true. While the two numbskulls were terrible at lying, they excelled at shutting the hell up whenever someone had a better explanation for their shenanigans. Why bother confessing when someone already solved the crime, right? Momo realized the answer to their problem was not lying to Rin, but merely setting up a scene to distract him.

“Would you be against,” Momo attempted to word this delicately, “getting naked with me right now?”

Nitori jerked his hand away, his eyes widening.

So perhaps things backfired a little.

“Momo-kun! What—why?!” Nitori scolded, using his feet to nudge the looney ginger away from him.

“Okay, maybe not naked,” said Momo, his hands straining to keep Nitori’s feet from kicking him, “but like, down to our underwear. We wouldn’t be doing anything!”

“We’d be naked!”

“Mostly naked.” Momo held both of Nitori’s feet in his hands, spreading them to border around his face, and he said, “And posing like we’re about to get our freak on—”

“Momo!”

“—but we won’t get our freak on!”  

If you were to tell Aiichirou Nitori that within an hour after his first kiss with his potentially first boyfriend that he was going to strip down to his boxer briefs and pose like a porno star just so his senpai could catch him in the act, like some sort of sexy Three Stooges episode, he would have brushed it off as an oddly specific slapstick fantasy. But this involved Momotarou Mikoshiba, so Nitori was not entirely surprised at how his life spiraled out of control. He just wished he could have taken his time with certain things…

If he had to pinpoint it, this whole nonsense really began with that damned shower incident a few days ago. As much as Nitori wished Momo’s dick was nothing but a vague, censored memory in his mind, the fact was that one millisecond of a glimpse down at Momo’s surprise package left an imprint on him, a permanent knowledge of its exact length and… girth. Ha, not that it was weird or anything, Nitori thought to himself, as if defending the honor of Momo’s dick in front of a jury. It was just a dick. If had to rate it, it’d be a solid four-star dick. A respectable dick, potentially a familiar dick Nitori would come… to enjoy, maybe, who knows—not the point. Plenty of people have dicks. The point was that plenty of people have dicks and Momo was one of them. And that was o-kay.

Momo squeezed Nitori’s feet as he set them back down on the bed and encouraged, “Just pretend we’re in our swimsuits.”

“What if we,” Nitori hesitated, noticing his thoughts getting more scandalous by the second, “like in the shower when you…”

Ah, yes, the butt incident, Momo recalled. That did happen. But in his defense, Momo said, “Everything about you is beautiful, senpai.” He smiled. “But I’ll promise not to stare this time.”

Although this was lie because Momo was always a victim of beauty, forever hypnotized and reaching out to whatever delighted his eyes, even if he saw beauty in the strangest of things. That’s just who Momo was, honestly. A fan of hidden gems, like stag beetles in the wild, Momotarou Mikoshiba was the kind of guy who looked at the ground to find the real wonders of the world. Why look up at the sky when the earth held jewels beneath your feet?

The best part of stag beetle hunting, Momo felt, was never the capture. He was a human; it’s not as if it was ever that hard to pick up an unsuspecting bug with his fingers. No, there’s no fun in trapping prisoners. The best part of stag beetle hunting was finding a beauty hidden between shadows, watching it shimmer in the sunlight as he brushed the blades of grass away and lent out his palm before it. The beetle would hesitate and twitch its feelers toward his fingers, and for a moment, Momo would stare with the bug—a giant force of excitement and a tiny ounce of hope—and hold his breath as the stag took its first steps onto his hand. Ah, yes, the best part of stag beetle hunting was finding a new friend.

And here was his senpai, Aiichirou Nitori, a beauty between the shadows who shimmered when he smiled. His bangs tufted backwards as he lied on the bed with his back slightly arched and his hands resting by his head, palms upward. His stomach peeked from under his shirt, alluring Momo to drape himself over Nitori and take a daring position between his legs. But as he kneeled over his shy senpai, he noticed the way Nitori’s fingers fiddled into the center of his palms, like twitching feelers. A great force of excitement over a tiny ounce of hope. A jewel right beneath him.

And so Momo clasped onto Nitori’s left hand and murmured, “It’s okay.”

This was new territory for them, being so close, that their breathing hitched. Questions raced through their minds as their lips tantalized each other, an anticipating kiss just around the corner of their uncertainty. Their budded emotions blurred their thoughts. Was the gentle, teasing way Momo pulled down Nitori’s pants off his hips merely an act of pretend for their upcoming decoy? Were their deepened breaths an appropriate reaction? How was it that feeling his joggers slip off his toes onto the ground shot a rushing sensation up Nitori’s thighs? Truly, their acting was phenomenal.

The way Momo pulled his shirt from over his head ruffled his hair, and as he held his arms out with the sleeves still slinked on his wrists, he looked down to see Nitori’s stomach blush along the center of his torso, up until where his shirt rode up to his chest. He wore lilac boy-shorts, much like his swimming trunks, but with the band of his underwear cutting just below his pelvic lines, accentuating his hips. Ah, what a sight, Momo thought as his shirt fell from his hands and onto the ground. If he didn’t know any better, it was almost as if he was about to get laid.

Was he?

“I’ve never done this before, Nitori-senpai,” confessed Momo as he began to unbuckle his belt to take his pants off.

“M—Me neither,” stuttered Nitori, whose ears reddened like strawberries ripening for spring. He tried to pull his shirt down to cover his groin, buckling his knees into Momo as he did, and looked away towards the door as he said, “But you said this was pretend, right?”

Ooohhh boy, Momo thought, falling into a stupor over the fidgeting, nervous boy beneath him. This was turning out to be something much more than he could handle, he realized, but it was too late for that now. All he had to do was focus. As long as he didn’t actually get an erection, things would work out.

So he said, “Right.”

But now was the matter of posing.

In order for the scene to be set up appropriately, they had to look natural, sensual, err, sexual. Certain areas needed to align, which was easier said than done, as they stared at each other in the bottom bunk. As they were, they seemed to be preparing for the classic missionary style pose, which seemed good enough, except with Momo simply kneeling over Nitori, they were not touching.

They, uh, needed to start touching.

“Okay,” Momo said to himself, letting his pants slouch down to his knees. “Here I go…”

And with a plop went Momotarou’s pelvis, settling between Nitori’s legs with the grace of a dropped banana. Ooohhh boy, Momo thought as he planked his lower body, a bit too frozen as he registered all the sensations going on downtown in the peach village, and began his internal mantra, which was simply, don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard.

“This isn’t so bad, right?” Momo said, trying to comfort Nitori, whose hands covered his face as he tried not to acknowledge Momo on top of him. “Like we’re doing stretches!”

Don’t get hard.

“This isn’t really comfortable,” said Nitori, who shifted his hips under the weight of Momo’s pelvic bone. But really, nothing about this was comfortable, as he too was battling his own body, trying to keep his thoughts tamed and meditative, which was nearly impossible because, you know, dicks. Why were they doing this? This was a terrible plan. How did Nitori let himself get swept up into this? Was it really that easy to get into his pants? That was kind of alarming.

Any moment Rin and Sousuke were about to slam the door open and witness their underclassmen wax erotica—at best, assume they were practicing yoga, with Momo performing the cobra pose straight into Nitori’s core. They couldn’t look each other in the eyes, having realized that this plan might have been Momo’s worst idea yet—just a little out of their comfort zone. Like learning how to swim and then immediately jumping into the deep end, these two were mere seconds from drowning in embarrassment.

“I don’t know if I want Rin-senpai to see me like this.”

“You want to try another position?” asked Momotarou, who stared straight at the wall as he repeated internally still, don’t get hard, don’t get hard, don’t get hard. Honestly, he was relieved that he could suggest, “We can try a different position.”

This different position would be Nitori sitting on top of his desk with Momo’s face buried into his crotch.

This was not how Nitori’s mother raised him.

“This is too much,” Nitori whined, as he rested an anxious hand on the back of Momo’s head. It didn’t matter that the way Momo’s hands cupped his behind brought a warm comfort to Nitori—because they were also perking his hips up into Momo’s face. But despite the intimacy of this position, it wasn’t the position itself that made Nitori uncomfortable this time.

It was the fact that Momo would talk straight into his dick.

“This is beautiful, Nitori-senpai,” said Momo, trying to comfort his newfound lover.

“Oh my god, can you not—”

“We’re just displaying our love,” he continued, “and we’re going to do it with your thighs around my neck.”

Nitori’s eyes kept darting over towards the door. It felt like an eternity waiting for Rin and Sousuke to arrive, to the point that he wondered if they were even coming anymore. How long would he have to endure having his insane kouhai talk into his groin to pass the time? Never in his life did he think he would ever know what it would be like to have someone tell knock knock jokes to his downstairs audience or how oddly pleasant the vibrations of Momo singing Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” would feel.

But at last, for a moment, Momo didn’t say anything.

And both Nitori and his dick could rest.

Until, of course, he said, “Your thighs are warm, Nitori-senpai.”

“Momo-kun!” Nitori pushed him away, squeezing his legs together, as he shouted, “I can’t! I can’t do it! I can’t do this!”

This was too much for him to handle. He pulled his shirt down past his groin, feeling his insecurities build up again, and guiltily watched Momo rub his nose as he stood up. Nitori had accidentally shoved Momo’s face so far that he had toppled backwards onto the floor. But he couldn’t feel too guilty because no matter what his crazy kouhai said, no matter how charmingly ambitious he could be, Nitori had to be strong this time and put his foot down. They just confessed to one another and there… there were boundaries, okay?

But his silly kouhai did not stand before him, ready for another round at sexual twister. In fact, Momotarou looked quite stern, his arms dropping to his sides. His red hair tossed like fire and he looked ridiculous in his otter-and-clam boxers, but with his shoulders pulled back and his posture straightened, Momo bowed with as much serious intent as anyone else. And he said, firmly, “I’m sorry!”

An apology.

Ah, why were they so awkward, Nitori thought, feeling sort of bad for his sudden outburst. They were so awkward, and having spoken up, Nitori felt a bit of comfort that the world did not explode from his refusal. No one hated him, no one shunned him, and no one laughed. Momo just stood there and said, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not ready for this,” said Nitori, hunching his shoulders, “even if it’s just pretend.”

“Okay.” Momo nodded.

This was the first day—hell, the first morning—of their potential relationship and it was foolish for Momotarou to even try to rush anything for the sake of upholding a lie, but too late for regret. He held Nitori’s hands in his hand and pressed their foreheads together, looking down at Nitori’s feet dangle above the carpet floor as he sat on the desk, and said, “It was too much.”

“Yeah,” Nitori whispered.

“I’m sorry.”

Nitori nodded, squeezing Momo’s fingers between his. “It’s okay.”

And then Rin slammed opened the door, shouting, “YOU TWO NEED TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF RIGHT—”

They stood there, all four of them. Rin and Sousuke by the door, with Rin muted in his horror as Sousuke raised his eyebrows at this new development; Momo and Ai on the desk, with Momo nestled nicely and naturally between Nitori’s legs in the middle of their make-up nuzzles.

Momo turned towards Nitori, wondering if the plan could still go on after all. And what the hell, Nitori thought, having surrendered to the fact that the damage was already done, and at least it didn’t involve Rin seeing Momo have a private conversation with his own privates, so there was that. So with some gusto, Nitori grunted an affirmative, un!, bringing Momo’s lips to his to kiss away the fact that there they stood in their underwear, all in the hopes of keeping a surprise party a secret for a couple more days.

And Rin yelled, “WHAT THE FUCK.”

Chapter Text

So, Rin was pretty mad.

“LET GO OF ME, SOUSUKE.”

And based on the way Sousuke had to lock his arms around Rin’s shoulders to hold him back from pulverizing two specific underclassmen, one could say the decoy plan was proving successful.

“You need to calm down,” said Sousuke, who stood like an iron pillar cemented into the ground, despite Rin’s flailing.

Well, they did it. Their team captain officially assumed that they were trying to sneak in a quickie before being lectured, but despite achieving that goal, Momotarou Mikoshiba and Aiichirou Nitori were nothing short of terrified. Like two shivering Chihuahuas caught in heat, these two held onto each other as they faced their shark overlord brattle wildly under his friend’s restraint. Surely it was like facing death itself.

It wasn’t fair to say Rin Matsuoka was prone to violent rage, but Nitori had seen him punch a poor, unsuspecting vending machine after receiving the wrong drink one time. In Rin’s defense, that was also the day he denounced swimming forever and his anger might have been more about that than the orange soda he threw at the wall, but these details were fuzzy in Nitori’s memory of his golden senpai. So with the anxious fear that he might have severed the bond of their friendship, Nitori broke and wailed, “I’M SORRY, RIN-SEN—”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT, AI,” yelled Rin.

Getting defensive over his pouting senpai, Momo stood his ground and firmly asked, “Is what we’re doing so wrong?”

“WRONG?” This little shit was asking Rin if what they were doing was wrong, he couldn’t believe it. He honestly could not even comprehend the audacity weaved all over that question—like seriously? Just gonna stand in his otter boxers and try and talk to Rin like he’s crazy, like Rin’s some rude asshole disrupting their private time—oh no, oh hell no. Momo was not going to act like this was okay, like Rin didn’t text the both of them, like they didn’t just admit that they did something worthy of being banned from the damn cafeteria and—YOU KNOW WHAT, NAH, FUCK THIS SHIT, Rin thought, and shouted, “YOU KNEW WE WERE COMING AND YOU STILL TRIED TO DO IT. YOU ACTUALLY TRIED.”

“Rin.” Sousuke squeezed his arms tighter around Rin as he muttered just next to his ear, “Remember what the article said.”

The article Sousuke was referring to was “Controlling Your Anger Before It Controls You,” a how-to guide on anger management, which was sent as a joke by Gou to Rin after the time the deviled redhead threw a PlayStation controller at Haruka Nanase over a heated battle of Extreme Pro Fishing: Holy Mackerel! Edition. In Rin’s defense, the game did date back to 1999 and had difficult controls to follow, but it was the only game Haruka owned besides this game about French pastry baking (which was oddly even more frustrating and difficult to score well in), so he dealt with the “stupid ass game.” Still, the anger management article did not go unread, much to Sousuke’s pestering, and had even helped Rin begin to tame the beast within.

So Rin began the process.

Step 1: Identify the problem. Why are you upset?

“I AM UPSET BECAUSE THEY TRIED TO BANG,” Rin determined, taking note of his word choices, “AND BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON.” He growled. “AND I DON’T LIKE NOT KNOWING WHAT IS GOING ON.”

Step 2: Breathe. Let the negativity flow out of you.

Rin took deep breaths, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth, and looked down at the carpet floor, where his underclassmen’s clothes laid. Tension crept over him until he felt himself begin to swing side to side, a cradled rocking that let him relax in Sousuke’s hold and lean back onto his friend’s chest. Let the negativity flow out of you, Rin repeated to himself, timing his breaths with the rocking, like a metronome for his angry, beating heart.

“There we go,” Sousuke murmured, letting go of Rin. “Now let’s try this again.”

Step 3: Be a translator for “the beast” inside. Use “I” sentences to express your frustration in a calm, rational manner so people can understand where you’re coming from.

After a quick roll of his shoulders, Rin crossed his arms. This was the part he didn’t like because it was dumb, if he was honest, because it was other people’s fault for why he was angry, not him. Rin preferred living a simple, structured life. Routine morning jog, balanced meals, school, swim practice, homework, nightly weight-training, a brief period of relaxation, and then sleep. This kept him sane. Control your body; control your mind.

But then again, freaking Momo and Ai knew nothing about controlling their damn bodies, now did they?

“As your captain, I,” Rin said through gritted teeth, “feel disrespected.”

Oh no.

Momotarou and Nitori glanced at each other, cringing at what they had managed to accomplish, and bit their lips to restrain themselves from blowing their cover. Of all the things Rin could have said to them, they were not anticipating this. These boys idolized Rin Matsuoka—one more than the other—but they practically worshipped the man’s feet at the diving board, would swim across the Pacific for the damn guy if he asked, and probably fight off a bear for him if the situation arose for some reason or die trying. The extent to which these boys loved this man was borderline obsessive—perhaps something that would come up in couples’ therapy at some point—but at its core was pure and golden Kouhai Syndrome.

And so hearing that they disrespected their beloved Rin-senpai sent the two into tears.

“Wahhhh, noooooo, Rin-senpaiiii,” cried Nitori, immediately pushing Momo away from him with a force greater than the strong nuclear force, which was 100 times stronger than the electromagnetic force and 10 trillion times stronger than the weak nuclear force and 100 trillion-trillion-trillion times stronger than gravity, which wasn’t true, but Nitori had a physics exam today and both the Meaning of Force and the Annihilation of Friendship was 100 trillion-trillion-trillion times too strong for his frail, sensitive heart. And so he cried, “I would never disrespect yooouuuu!”

And Momo, having ricocheted off the desk chair he was slammed into, fell to his knees and inched towards Rin with clasped hands as he wailed, “Forgive us for our sins! We know not of what we do!”

A bit dramatic, Rin thought, sighing as he watched his weeping friends throw themselves all over the floor in agony.

“Look at them,” Sousuke said, nudging Rin’s shoulder. “Look at what you’ve done.”

Rin glared at Sousuke as he felt the pleading, guilty hands of his underclassmen grip onto his pants. They were full-out sobbing, shaking his hips back and forth while also wiping tears away, and they cried out several times over each other, “We’re sorry! We’re so sorry! We’re so sorry!”

Oh, for crying out loud. Massaging an aching vein in his temple, Rin recalled one of the final steps in the anger management article about forgiveness and avoiding blame and all that crap. He still had to focus on voicing his concerns without shattering Momo and Ai’s tiny egos, especially now as they both sobbed into his legs about being the worst kouhais to ever exist and for shame how they’ve given in to their own temptations and disgraced themselves in front of their great senpai, their beautiful senpai, their godly senpai—they are not worthy, senpai!

“Okay, stop!” Rin shouted, trying to shove their faces away. “It’s okay, alright! Just stop!”

“Forgive us!” they both cried, struggling to push their faces through Rin’s hands somehow.

“Fine, I forgive you!” Rin shouted more, giving one final shove and stepped back from the two. “It’s just,” he sighed, annoyed, “you two have been acting weird, you know.”

Ever since the rumors began about Momo and Ai dating, things got weird. They never really owned up to it, even though it became increasingly more obvious to the rest of the swim team, and here Rin found them trying to get frisky in the morning—because they were banned from the cafeteria? It wasn’t as if they needed to be vocal about their relationship, but well, Rin seemed to be under the impression that they almost never hid anything from him, so what was this all about?

“I don’t like that you’re hiding things from me,” Rin confessed, refusing to look them in the eyes because he felt silly telling these dorks that secrets bothered him. “It’s suspicious, okay?”

“Rin hates secrets,” Sousuke teased.

“No,” Rin defended. “I just don’t like that they’re getting in trouble lately.”

But as he observed Momo and Ai sniffle on the ground in their shameful sorrows, Rin figured whatever they were hiding was probably nerves. Maybe a relationship was new to them, he reasoned, knowing how awkward they were. He just didn’t want to see them Discovery Channel-style; that was unnecessary. They could have some decency, you know. Or learn how to lock their doors. That wasn’t too much to ask.

So he growled, “I’m not mad anymore, okay? But stop acting weird—you’re acting weird.” He turned around, frustrated that this had to happen at all. “So stop it!”

“Okay…” Nitori mewled, wiping his nose.

“Never again!” Momo promised, “We’ll never disrespect you like that ever again!”

Rin waved a dismissive hand as he headed out the doors and with a final scold, he said, “And lock your doors now, damn it!”

Once Rin officially left, Sousuke closed the door behind him, crossed his arms, and sternly looked down at the culprits as he said, “All right, you’ve done a good job distracting him, now spill.” He narrowed his eyes. “What did you two idiots do?”

Momo and Nitori nervously glanced at each other.

Oh boy.

-

Never in his life was Momotarou this relieved for classes to start.

Momo sat at his desk, unpacking his notebook and pens, and took a deep breath that the rollercoaster events finally settled to a seeming end. He pushed back the cafeteria fiasco out of his mind as well as the harsh tones from Rin (and later Sousuke) and instead twiddled his pencil as he lingered on the memory of how Nitori blushed underneath him—not that he could really daydream too much about that intimate moment, but maybe it was okay to remember the way Nitori’s lips parted or how his thighs felt in Momo’s caress…

From first kiss to—what would he call it? Halfway to stealing third base? It didn’t really matter because it still made Momo bite down on the inside of his cheeks to keep himself from smiling too wide. They didn’t even kiss as they posed, but that’s because Momo knew he wouldn’t be able to handle that on top of seeing his bashful senpai’s hips fidget and buck in their nervousness. The struggle was a little too real for his lower region, so adding a kiss—knowing that just the simple, soft graze of their lips against each other’s could shoot a tingle down Momo’s spine straight to his groin—would have been a one-way ticket to Bonersville, let’s be honest.

But still, you could say this was the best day in Momotarou Mikoshiba’s life.

“You look happy,” greeted the now infamous Toru Iwashimizu, who blurred the lines between being Momo’s arch nemesis and his ultimate guide down the romance road. He was the guy who pushed Momo into kissing Nitori, which was both the cause for the greatest embarrassment of his life and the catalyst to a beautiful world of possibilities.

“H—Hey,” said Momo, who continued to fiddle with his pens, but also wiped his nose just in case.

Iwashimizu took his seat, taking on his regular bored expression as he flung his school supplies onto his desk, brought his feet up to the edge of his seat, and slouched. As Momo watched Iwashimizu rest his neck over the edge of the backrest, he debated whether he should even mention any of the things that happened within the past twenty-four hours. After all, Momo still wasn’t sure where the both of them lied on the friendship spectrum. Assuming everything went fantastically well with Nitori-senpai and they really did fall in love and made a life together and did grown-up things—like getting a joint bank account or reluctantly going to coworkers’ engagement parties without being engaged themselves or reading internet articles together on how to… experiment in the bedroom—then this would all be thanks to Iwashimizu, which meant he would have to be the Best Man at their wedding (or at least one of the groomsmen since Seijuro would probably put up a fight and go on a drunken rampage about but we’re literally bros, bro!), which meant Momo needed to make Iwashimizu more than his swim mate, but a friend—a best friend, a friend he told things to.

There were two things Seijuro promised him were real in life: love and bros.  

“So,” Iwashimizu yawned, “how’s Nitori-senpai?”

And by god, Iwashimizu was about to become Momo’s bro.

“I…” He scratched his neck, but then admitted, “I took your advice.”

A sly smirk crept onto Iwashimizu’s face as he straightened his posture, and with a bemused tone, he said, “No kidding?”

“Yeah.”

“How was it?” Iwashimizu asked, reaching into his pocket.

This should have been a simple question, but considering this was the defining, make-or-break moment of their friendship, this was the trigger to a dangerous gossip exchange. Both of Momo’s siblings advised him on the politics of making friends in high school, polarized in their opinions. Seijuro, bright beacon of honor and patriotism that he was, believed in honesty and fairness when getting to know others, which worked for him because everyone loved Seijuro or at least thought he looked damn good in a speedo.

Yukiko, on the other hand, was an agile vixen in the world of adolescent espionage, who firmly lived by the philosophy of keep your friends close and your enemies closer. She knew all the tricks of the trade, and when her little brother—who meant well, but who also was a little dumb—announced he was going to Samezuka Academy to follow the footsteps of their eldest brother instead of her school, where she could be his Sherpa in a land of wild hormones and loose lips, Yuki told Momo one thing and one thing only: trust no one.

 So before Iwashimizu could become a proper bro, Momo first had to determine whether the nonchalant matchmaker was the natural wingman he was destined to be or, as Momo’s sister once put it, a “backstabbing hoe only in it for drama.” And while he wanted to give Iwashimizu the benefit of the doubt, the reality was that Momo noticed Iwashimizu’s phone get pulled out from his pocket, letting the air grow tense. It was as if the apathetic blond had slapped a loaded gun onto his desk, baring its threatening presence for Momo to see, as he casually asked further, “Did you like it?”

Were they two students having a little chat about first kisses or were they gangsters exchanging information? Could Momo trust him? Did it matter? Because honestly Iwashimizu was the kind of guy who looked like he didn’t give a shit—about anything, really—and Momotarou found some sort of comfort in this, but maybe that was the trap, an illusion of trust that could only be formed by an evil gossiping mastermind. It was crucial that Momotarou did not actually admit to anything.

Although, the fact was that most people already assumed Momo and Ai were dating, so what difference did it make revealing that they kissed?

Did Toru Iwashimizu really have the upper hand in this whole shibacle just because he knew the deets before they hit the streets?

Was Toru Iwashimizu a bro or a foe?

Momo looked straight into Iwashimizu’s dead, black eyes.

“Yes, so much,” Momo confessed, slamming his head onto his desk. “It was amazing, Iwa-saaaan.”

Why did he break so easily? Well, the thing was, Momo really wanted to talk about it.

And Iwashimizu knew this, knew from the moment he walked into the classroom and saw the ginger boy smiling to himself at his desk that things were about the get juicy. Nothing exciting ever happened at Samezuka Academy, which was a bit of a let-down to Iwashimizu’s Degrassi-esque fantasies of what could have been his private school life. One time he told his roommate, the one he barely talked to, that he was actually in love with him—just to see what would happen—and all he got were heart-shaped waffles with strawberries and a lecture about academic priorities over love distractions, which technically wasn’t a rejection, so Iwashimizu decided to pretend they were dating. And for every time Iwashimizu would whisper a teasing, seductive daisuki to his roommate, the only reaction he ever got was, yet again, more waffles. How dull.

So, sue him if he wanted to find some joy in watching Momotarou Mikoshiba discover his first love via the nervous train wreck that was Aiichirou Nitori.

“Told you,” he said. “Would I steer you wrong?”

It was about as much excitement as he was going to get.

“The first time I tried to kiss him, he pulled away and I basically died,” Momo said, his cheeks tugging at the corners as he slid his face on the desktop towards Iwashimizu. “I hated you for that.”

“Bummer,” Iwashimizu said, looking through his phone. “But you kissed him, right?”

“Yeah, this morning, and…” Momo sat up, pulling down on his cheeks as he felt his grin grow wide. “It was like—well, I’m not really good with words and describing stuff, but…”

This was it, Momo thought. He had to be vulnerable in expressing his feelings and whatever reaction he was going to get from Iwashimizu was the defining moment of where they stood with each other.

“Yeah?” pressed the blond, looking up from his phone.

But this was hard and this was scary because the last thing Momotarou wanted to hear after the first time he told anyone about what he felt when he kissed Nitori-senpai for the first time was that he was being dumb or rushing things or getting carried away or anything like that—because he knew beginnings of anything were exciting and that he himself was very prone to getting too excited for just about everything, but Momo just really wanted to share. This boy, who loved showing off his beetles or his latest record times for swim laps or all the things he felt proud of himself for, liked sharing good things.

And if Iwashimizu was really going to be his best bro, he had to know if the guy could understand all the little things that made Momo happy. So with some hesitation, he said, “Okay, don’t laugh, but…”

“Mmhmm,” Iwashimizu hummed, giving his attention to the nervous peach boy.

And after one big inhale, Momo described, “You know how when you introduce yourself to someone, you don’t really know if you’re going to be friends? But you kind of hope you do—and there’s like this weird feeling in your chest for a long, long time as you get to know them, but then one day you realize that, yeah, you’re friends! You did it! You made this new connection with someone! And it’s good; it feels really good. And when you hug them, you think, this is real. You know, like, you found someone who thinks the exact same things about… you.”

Iwashimizu set his phone down and watched Momotarou settle his hands into his lap.

“I mean, maybe it’s because I’ve never kissed anyone before, but when I kissed Nitori-senpai, it wasn’t like seeing fireworks or whatever other people say—it didn’t feel like the start of something new or anything like that,” Momo said, his voice getting softer. “I get this weird feeling in my chest when I look at him,” then he chuckled, “but I kind of like it.”

“Well, shit.”

It seemed that Iwashimizu had started something much more than some light entertainment.

“I didn’t know you had it that hard for Nitori-senpai,” Iwashimizu teased. “You gotta tell me when you bang him.”

“H—Hey!”

Admittedly, there was a part of Iwashimizu that had initially set up the whole scenario as a joke, as something he could gossip about with the rest of the Samezuka swim team if he wanted or keep to himself if it wasn’t as interesting, but shit, he thought. He watched Momo smile to himself and saw how the boy eased his shoulders at what was obviously the thought of his dorky roommate. Who would’ve thought, Iwashimizu wondered, that he would have legitimately sparked something oddly extraordinary?

“Thanks for the advice, Iwa-san,” Momo said.

Maybe there was something more to Mikoshiba than being the goofball who consistently rammed his head against the pool walls.

“No problem,” said Iwashimizu, putting his phone back in his pocket.

Maybe they could be friends.

-

The thing about trying to keep your love life low-key is that is it very hard when you yourself are bad at being low-key anything and it is even more impossible when you hear your name being called to the principal’s office.

“I repeat,” spoke the principal’s assistant over the speaker system. “Nitori Aiichirou, please report to the principal’s office at once.”

Everyone—absolutely every student in the classroom and the teacher—turned in their seat to face formerly innocent, unsuspecting Nitori and wondered the what the hell could this kid have done to be called up to the principal’s office in a stern matter first thing in the morning? Aiichirou Nitori wasn’t exactly known for causing waves, except literally in the pool because people knew he was one of the insane lunatics who decided to join the Samezuka swim team out of his own free will and devote 80%—if  not all—of his free time to club. He was the kind of student most people didn’t normally pay attention towards until he would wear his swim jersey, and then they would think, oh yeah…

So there were two possibilities for why the goody two-shoes would be called up to the office:

1)      Someone died. (Poor thing.)

2)      Aiichirou Nitori actually did something bad; and holy shit, it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it?

But regardless of what everyone else was thinking, the real issue was that Kazuki Minami and Shouta Nakagawa, who knew all too well about Nitori’s life, now had actual evidence that something was going on with the silver darling and there was only one reason they could think of.

“Please tell me it’s about Mikoshiba-san,” teased Minami, who reached out for Nitori’s wrist as he stood up. “It would make my day.”

“What? No!—well, yes, but—” said Nitori, his tone growing desperate as he pulled his hand away from Minami’s clutch. “—but not in the way that you think!”

Nakagawa lifted his head and simply uttered, “Spill it, Tori-san.”

“I—I have to go.”

Nitori knew this wasn’t the end of his misery, for as he walked past all of the curious eyes and bowed for excusal to leave the classroom for the office, he heard the playful death sentence coo out of Minami’s lips, “We’ll talk about it in swim practice, Nitori-saaan~”

But the joke was on Minami because considering why Nitori was being sent to the principal’s office, it could only mean that this was it, the end of his academic career, the day he would be expelled from Samezuka Academy and have to pack his bags and board a train back to his hometown, where he would face his mother and all his younger siblings and tell them that he had officially dishonored the family and destroyed his future all for a simple surprise party, which had initially started off as a prank, but he might have found love or something; so by the way, meet his boyfriend: Momotarou Mikoshiba, the man responsible for everything.

Oh god, what had Nitori done?

He stood in front of the administrative office door with his hand over the doorknob and could feel his throat shrink as he was just about to cry.

“Nitori-senpai!”

It’s funny because normally the addition of Momo’s presence would only make Nitori more anxious, but as he looked up from the doorknob and turned to his left to see the shining glory that was the peach boy wonder, Nitori did not feel nervous or dread the sight of him at all. And Momo, who jogged the rest of the way to catch up to Nitori, did not waver when he saw the beaded tears building up in his senpai’s eyes.

“Momo-kun,” Nitori whispered, still worried about facing his fate, “I—”

But he was stopped short by a kiss from Momo’s lips.

It was brief, no more than a simple greeting kiss, but with the way Momo lingered his lips against Nitori’s as they pressed foreheads, it was enough to smooth the trembles away. Still, the reality was set, and even though it was kind of nice for him to grip on Momo’s uniform and pull him close, they still had to face the principal. With a forlorn whisper, he told Momo, “We’re really in trouble this time, Momo-kun.”

To which Momo pressed his forehead ever harder against Nitori’s and said, “Mmm, yeah, but I think we’ll be okay.”

And with that, they opened the door to meet their fate.

-

They did not expect to see Sousuke Yamazaki, though.

They weren’t really sure what to think of that, honestly.

Before them sat Principal Oshiro, who sat with his hands folded on his desk and with his glasses resting on Momo and Ai’s student files. By the creasing wrinkles on his forehead to his receding hairline, he looked annoyed, but not livid. Standing to his left was the cafeteria manager, whose nametag read “YOSHIDA” and whose arms were crossed as he tapped his foot on the floor, matching its beat to his twitching eyebrow. He huffed at the sight of Momotarou, remembering the cold smack of seven blueberry popsicles and one coconut popsicle hitting against his body like oblong bullets, and said, “Sit down.”

There were two chairs to the right of Sousuke.

They sat down.

Now, earlier that morning when Rin left their dorm room with only Sousuke left to scold them further, the looming whale shark had given Momo and Nitori only one set of instructions: leave everything to me.

“Um,” Nitori spoke up, “We’d like to say we’re sor—”

“There’s no need for any of that, Nitori-san,” Principal Oshiro declared. “Yamazaki-san already explained everything and your duties have already been decided.”

Duties?

Upon this cue, Yoshida-sensei stopped tapping his feet and stepped closer to the desk. His arms were still crossed, but his fingers neatened the cuffs of his navy bomber jacket sleeves, which were rolled up at the elbow. He leaned forward. Nitori noticed a few strands that banged forward from his slicked-back hair. Momo noticed that Yoshida-sensei was looking directly at him, and by the looks of his mustache emphasizing the frown on his face, he was not exactly willing to hear sob stories.

“You threw popsicles at me,” he said to Momo, his voice deep, but scratched from tobacco.

“I know,” Momo blurted.

Nitori elbowed him.

“I mean, I’m sorry,” Momo corrected.

“You boys will be assigned cafeteria duty in the morning before school for the remainder of the week to pay your respects to Yoshida-sensei,” said Principal Oshiro. “Both of you will have to report to the cafeteria at 6AM every day until Saturday. Tardiness will not be tolerated.”

With a synchronized yes, sir, both Momo and Ai looked at Sousuke, who cocked his head as he shrugged. They couldn’t avoid punishment, but whatever Sousuke had negotiated before their arrival had resulted in the ultimate solution to their problems. If they had cafeteria duty, they didn’t have to sneak the paper cranes into the freezer anymore. It was instant access.

Just what kind of power did Sousuke Yamazaki have over this school anyway?

Consider these kouhais impressed.

Chapter Text

It was still Tuesday.

But worse yet, it was time for him to face the swim team.

And to be honest, if you asked Nitori, that was kind of bullshit.

There he stood, observing the pool of sharks in the distance just waiting for him to make a move. A whole lot of damage had been done in the past eight hours since Rin shouted a profound WHAT THE FUCK at Nitori and Momo’s dorm doorway, which immediately stirred up a banana telephone game of epic proportions throughout Samezuka Academy. Pair that with the fact that both of the dimwits were publicly announced to head to the principal’s office together and that something amiss had happened in the cafeteria last night—and boy, oh boy, were the rumors trending the social sphere like something straight out of Nitori’s nightmares. They had gone viral, top of the chart gossip among their peers, who were all too ready to roast the couple into infamy.

It all started with a tweet.

Some rando on the basketball team had overheard Rin catching Nitori and Momotarou getting caught in an explicit position at their dorm, and what with the rumors of Samezuka’s swim team having more tea than a J-drama now stirring, this caught the attention of several bored teenage boys before classes had even started.

The sports news network was simple. Basketball passed the rumors around to get some details. One teammate asked who found out about this and were replied to with the captain caught them. Another asked, which one’s the captain?? And another replied, the guy who cries all the time.

Once the rumors spread over to other sports teams at the academy, the Samezuka Swim Team Thot Conspiracy began. It was the volleyball team who mentioned that both Nitori and Mikoshiba were sent to the principal’s office that same day, as sourced by a classmate in Nitori’s homeroom. A peculiar detail because how did the school find out about what the couple was doing in their bedroom? Did someone rat them out?

Then someone on the tennis team who was also in the culinary club mentioned, I heard they got caught doing shit in the cafeteria.

Cue the controversy.

This made folks on the baseball team wonder just how many times the two had done it and bets were being taken about when the relationship started. Someone on the bicycle team hashtagged the gossip thread as #bombezuka, which set off a flurry of well-intentioned, damage control tweets from students who didn’t want the reputations of Aiichirou Nitori and Momotarou Mikoshiba to get tarnished.

Things like who cares if they’re banging and let them live in PEACE to they’re not gay and who are we even talking about flooded social media circles as the rumor spread outside of Samezuka’s sports clubs and into the general student body. Did things get out of control? Naturally. Details were being made up, people weren’t entirely sure who was involved in the cafeteria fucking, and lavish erotic assumptions about who had the biggest dick energy on the Samezuka swim team were battling it out for all of this side of Japan’s internet to see.

One person assumed the captain (Rin) was angry because he was in a secret love affair with “the silver twink” or something. Another person insisted, Mikoshiba-san has been bragging about being with Nitori-san since last weekend. Another student saw them nuzzling faces on the metro train, claimed they were on a date. Oh, definitely, said another, saw them on the beach making out.

Eventually someone had the nerve to try to confirm some things with the swim team by messaging Toru Iwashimizu, who only responded:

But because Iwashimizu had responded, the #bombezuka thread had popped up on the rest of the swimming team’s Twitter feeds, who righteously had mixed reactions of freaking out to defend their teammates’ honor and freaking out because their suspicions had finally been confirmed.

To no one’s surprise, Nagisa Hazuki caught wind of the frenzy, despite being from another school entirely.

And with Rin Matsuoka’s name mixed in with the rumors, it did not take long before six degrees reached his younger sister Gou, who could not believe what had unfurled throughout the day without any comment by her brother. In a desperate attempt to get him to notice the Twitter storm, she tweeted:

The only silver lining of the tweetastrophe was that at least no one was being inherently meanspirited about the potential lust blossoming between Nitori and Momotarou, which was partially due to the swimming team’s notoriety. On paper, sure, the swim team was the pride and joy of the Samezuka Academy, but that’s not why they were famous among their peers. They were famous because the rest of the school viewed the swim team as a group of guys obsessed with swimming. They did nothing but swim. The whole point of the indoor swimming pool was for the team to practice even during the winter—when they didn’t even have to swim—or whenever it rained.

Barely anyone knew anything about the students in the swim team, so many folks figured they had the stock personalities of a school of fish. All going for the same goal to be a professional athlete and not much else. They were untouchable; their schedules surrounding practices, training camps, and swim meets, with not much room for dating in between. The only other thing people knew about them was their annual tradition of hosting a maid café at their school’s cultural festival, which no one could reasonably explain.

That was it. Listen, people figured if there was ever going to be a scandal coming from the swim team, it was probably going to be about some guy shooting up steroids in the locker room or wearing unapproved swimsuits for better aerodynamics in competitions or maybe even something crazy like the students were all brainwashed and manufactured into disciples of Poseidon himself to carry on the legend of Samezuka forever. They weren’t known for actual drama, not even while people heard about Rin Matsuoka swimming for some other school’s team halfway through a competition for some reason last year (that was weird, but okay) or even this year when some folks whispered about Sousuke Yamazaki having a hurt shoulder and, like, that was sad, but he still swam in the championship, so other students figured it wasn’t so bad. Hell, if you even heardabout those two so-called incidents, you had to be real close to the swim team—and the fact of the matter was, what happened in Samezuka’s swim team generally stayed with the swim team.

So, when rumors spread about last year’s swim team captain’s little brother possibly dating this year’s captain’s ex-roommate, who some said might be next year’s captain, too, things got a little bit juicy.

To the student body of the Samezuka Academy, this was like finding out the royals were having incestuous affairs behind the castle doors, which got people thinking: maybe the reason no one had ever heard of the Samezuka swim team dating anyone outside of school was because maybe the swim team was dating… each other.

Yet, while folks were reveling in the swim team’s supposed love triangle plot twists, it was all at the expense of Aiichirou Nitori’s dignity. People were quick to forget that. It was one thing to be teased by his teammates about possibly dating Momotarou, but to witness his reputation get warped into being the promiscuous sexpot darling of the swim team was a level of humiliation Nitori had never known. He read tweet after tweet, seeing his name become the butt of a thousand jokes by students who he had never heard of, let alone spoken to.

It was a wild exchange. There were positive messages at first that called him cute, saying no surprise he’s dating someone, remembering him as the second-year breaststroke swimmer, saying how quiet in school he was, saying how smallhe was, saying well, if he’s still on the swim team, he must be good, right? They said he must be flexible, then mentioned Momo and Rin and Sousuke and Seijuro and damn near any teammate people saw him with at some point during the school year. They got more invasive, calling him relay boy, and assumed he was experienced, assumed he was bottom, assumed he was easy.

He cried about this, locked his dorm room and wept at his desk as he used his laptop to delete his Twitter and turn all his other social media accounts private before the gossip switched platforms. And once it was done and he could finally use his phone again without notifications stalling the system, Nitori stared at his last text message, one from Sousuke that read, emergency meeting at the pool now.

There stood Aiichirou Nitori at the entrance of the indoor swimming pool, with eyes puffed red and swollen, just like his ego.

“I hate this,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

No one wore their swimsuits, which was good because like hell was Nitori going to do some goddamn laps after all the bullshit he went through today. As he sauntered down the gym in his hoodie and sweatpants, he looked down at the tile floor and listed the day’s events in his head. He woke up at 5:30 in the morning, broke into the cafeteria to smuggle in paper cranes, got caught, kissed Momo, had a nice breakfast, kissed Momo again but in his underwear so Rin could catch them—and thus the downward spiral set off. Today was the first day he started his first relationship. He should have been happy. It should have been a good day, really. But all Nitori felt was tired.

He was so, so tired.

“Honestly, fuck ‘em,” said Toru Iwashimizu, who sat at the edge of the pool with his feet dipped in the water. “Summer break is coming up anyway. They’re going to forget all about this.”

Most of the swim team sat down on the floor as a huddled group, with a few teammates just off to the side by the pool edge or by the wall. Nitori couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with anyone, knowing what had been rumored, but he saw someone approaching him and stepped back.

“Nitori-senpai?” whispered Momotarou, still in his school uniform. Not because he couldn’t get into their dorm room to change clothes, but because he chose not to.

“Where were you?” asked Nitori. He looked up at Momo then, pointing an incredulous glance at his manic kouhai, and didn’t care if anyone noticed their confrontation.

There was no question that Nitori-senpai looked like a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose and lips cracked at the irritated dry patches he must have wiped too many times, and his skin dulled from exhaustion. Once he found out about all the rumors, Momo’s first reaction was to go straight to his dorm room and talk with Nitori, but when he heard his senpai’s sobbing and how obviously hurt he was, his next impulse was to stop the madness. For the past twenty minutes, Momotarou went to several sports teams and people whose names he recognized in the tweeting threads and made a small statement to each of them in person. He needed to come up with a better solution, he knew that, but it was all he could think of for now.

He told them, you have hurt someone I care about.

“I was trying to fix this,” he told Nitori, even though he also knew the concept of fixing their shattered reputations might have been impossible by now.

“How could you possibly fix this?”

“Oy, Ai,” interjected Rin, who like the rest of the swim team had been taking note of Nitori’s dejected state. “That’s what we’re all trying to do now. Come up with a way to fix this mess.”

Fix messes, huh, Nitori thought. It seemed like he was always caught in some mess that needed to be fixed, at least for the past four days. Eventually the escalation must stop and crash, that’s what he was learning. He just never thought it would crash on him.

Nitori looked up to evaluate the rest of the team, taking note of their worried yet puzzled expressions as they looked back at him. He saw Minami and Uozumi sitting up against the wall, their lips pursed as if holding back their own commentary until they felt safe to do so. Off to the side, where most of the team sat, lied Nakagawa on his back and yet he averted his attention up at Nitori, then began to sit up when he noticed Nitori staring down at him. Iwashimizu took his feet out of the water and turned toward Nitori, sitting cross-legged and cross-armed. They looked guilty, or maybe Nitori just wanted them to feel that way. He wanted to blame them for their casual teasing as some sort of fuel for the rumor fire, even if he couldn’t prove it as the catalyst to the day’s events.

There was a moment when he wanted to blame Rin for shouting so loud that morning, for getting involved, for being so known at school. It didn’t last long, though, because even with everything that had happened, Nitori couldn’t muster up the nerve to blame his senpai for caring about him and his reckless behavior. As he looked Rin directly in the eyes, Nitori noticed the accountability Rin felt for his part of the scandal, how much of a captain he looked during this crisis—if you could call it that, Nitori wondered, feeling dumb. God, he felt so dumb, standing dead center at an emergency swim team meeting—a meeting—over rumors about him fucking—fucking—Momo.

Over fucking Momo.

When it came to Momo, his anger was complicated. It wasn’t the rage of someone who felt betrayed or even the kind of frustration someone felt because of how stupid their friend was. His fury was much more personal, a fury that made him obsess over every bad mistake he made in the past few days because of Momo’s whims and how any sane person would have said no, would have said the line was being crossed, would have realized they were setting themselves up for a messy catastrophe, but not him. Truth was, as Nitori realized it after sobbing at his desk, that he was, in a way, having fun. And the reason he was mad was because it had been spoiled.

He looked back at Momo and weakly raised his hand with his fingers twitching in frustration, pulling the air as he pulled his thoughts together.

“Nitori-senpai,” said Momo, who stepped closer ready to accept any punishment he was about to be given. “I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.”

Yeah, he got anxious. Yeah, what they were doing was stupid.

But it was fun.

Nitori got mad because he hated how everyone wanted to rewrite his memories. They weren’t there watching the sunset at the beach with Momo while eating ice cream after a day of dancing and shooting water guns. They weren’t there going into downtown to shop for origami paper and eating lunch while binge-watching anime in their dorm room, just hanging out together and enjoying each other’s company for like twelve hours straight. They weren’t there eating breakfast in a little kitchen shop, planning dates and dodging bashful glances on the morning of their first kiss. They had no idea how much of a big deal it was, how it felt, that first time. All they had was this idea of who they were—just a couple of zany kids, off to the side, doing nothing important, just messing around. Who were they to try to tell Nitori the story of (maybe) the first time he fell in love?

Momo and his big mouth, his stupid ideas, his dumb heart.

Nitori dropped his hand. He took one step forward and plopped his head onto Momo’s chest, letting out a deep sigh. First day of a relationship and he was mad. God, he felt so dumb.

“Is it worth all this?” he said to Momo. “How long are we going to hide this secret?”

This secret, of course, referred to the surprise party they were planning, which had clearly become the bane of their existence. What started out as a prank turned sentimental gesture had wildly spun out of a control as the basis of their public outing for all to jest—and there was still another half of the week to go through before it was even supposed to happen.

Yet, given the rumor situation, when the swim team heard “secret,” a slight misunderstanding prompted folks to speak up.

“Oh, well, you don’t have to hide anymore, Nitori-san,” said Minami from the back, a little preemptively. “We’re totally cool with it.”

“Uh,” Momo stuttered, looking down at Nitori, who merely closed his eyes and sighed further. “That’s not—”

“That’s right, Ai,” said Rin. “We’ll make sure this doesn’t get out of control.”

Sousuke also chimed in with a supportive, “You’re not alone.”

And while it was sweet how quickly the Samezuka Swim Team turned into the Momo-Ai Defense Squad, hearing the phrase you’re not alone had channeled the exact reason Nitori was furious in the first place. He wasn’t alone, was quite prophetically forced to not be alone—when that’s what he wanted. He gripped Momo’s shirt, tugged down at the neckline as his silent call for freedom, and whispered into Momo’s ear, “Fix this.”

As more teammates spoke up to lend their support, it dawned on Momotarou that despite the fact that there was no real plan on how to come out as a couple since they were originally just rolling with the team’s own suspicions, this was probably not it. This was not how anything was supposed to go. He wrapped his arms around Nitori, feeling his senpai give in the embrace and start to choke up. Things had gone too far over nothing and no amount of white lies could change the fact that Momo, frankly, messed up.

“Stop,” he announced, then groaned as he gave in to surrender. “We were justtrying to plan a party.”

Huh?

Even Sousuke, who was helping plan the party, wondered why the flustered ginger had snapped out and revealed the party plans. Collectively, no one on the team could tie the connection between Momo and Ai’s relationship outing and a… party? Unless, maybe it was a coming out party? Were they gonna be that elaborate about announcing their relationship? Wouldn’t that be a little much? Was that even a thing?

“What are you talking about?” asked Rin.

But the truth had to come out, and so with Nitori still in his arms, Momo exasperatedly confessed, “It started with the bread, but then you saw the bread, so then we couldn’t use it anymore, but I didn’t want to give up on—well, see, I was trying to plan a surprise because, come on, look at this pool, it’s so big! Like, how am I supposed to be at this school and not put stuff in it, so then why not origami cranes? No one can get mad at origami cranes—because they’re beautiful—and it’s barely a prank if there’s 5000 origami cranes—I mean, that’s practically art—like, honestly, I think it’d even be a good idea for the summer festival, just putting it out there because I’ve been working really hard on making them, you can ask Yamazaki-senpai, who—actually—is the reason we started planning a party. Yeah, ugh, because it was just a really good idea and we couldn’t explain why we are on the beach on top of each other—but nothing happened! We weren’t even thinking about that yet! We were just having a good time and then Yamazaki-senpai was like oh, what are you doing, give me my radio back, you’re planning a party, right? And we were like, yeah, that’s a great idea because it was, so then we had to go through with it, which is why we were always together, but then everyone kept thinking we were together togetherbecause we took a shower together and like, yeah, okay, so I checked Nitori-senpai out, but who wouldn’t? Look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn’t—no, you can’t, because Nitori-senpai is an amazing person who deserves to be checked out and, you know what? I’d do it again, honestly.”

Momo took a moment to breathe.

“Ugh, not that it matters,” Momo continued, his confession getting louder, “because then everybody was getting suspicious because of how much we hung out and Yamazaki-senpai couldn’t take the cranes to the cafeteria, so we had to, and the freaking cafeteria manager came in too early, so we had to run and runand it was sunrise and Nitori-senpai looked beautiful and, like, that was the moment—I couldn’t just not kiss him, especially after last night’s failure, so I did and it was great and today was supposed to be a great day because today—TODAY—was the first time I’ve ever kissed someone and today was supposed to be special because I asked Nitori-senpai out on a date and he said sure and I was,” Momo panted before he calmed down and finished, “I was really happy about that.”

Nitori looked up at Momo, then softly uttered, “Momo-kun…”

“I’m angry, too,” said Momo, meeting Nitori’s gaze. “I ruined our first day.”

The team stood there, stunned.

It was a lot to digest, particularly since Momo gave no context to anything he said, just spouted out a stream of consciousness that only select people could put together in a coherent timeline. But while some team members were trying to figure out the missing details, Rin—who felt he understood most of the Momo speak—hesitantly spoke up and said, “So, you two were planning a party here in the gym?”

Momo and Nitori nodded.

“And you knew about this?” Rin asked, turning around to Sousuke.

“Yup,” he said.

“But you two,” Rin turned back to the frazzled couple, “weren’t dating until… today?”

“Right,” confirmed Momo.

“But I saw… you both… this morning,” said Rin, trying to make sense of the lewd scene he walked in on earlier in the day. Who hooks up on the first morning they’re together?

“We were trying to distract you,” explained Nitori, who stood straight while still in Momo’s embrace and motioned his hands toward their intimate hug. “And it worked really well because we ended up distracting the whole school.”

“I can’t believe this.” Rin threw his head back, trying to be respectful toward his kouhais’ newfound relationship, but also absolutely using every fiber of his being to contain his frustration over the day’s events. “You guys literally test me every goddamn day.”

Sousuke chuckled, covering his mouth with his hand.

“What are you laughing at?” snapped Rin. “This is a disaster!”

“Yeah.”

Still waiting for an answer or a punchline, Rin bucked his shoulders for Sousuke to continue.

To which he shrugged and said, “Oh, nothing. I just think they’re funny.”

“Oh my god,” groaned Rin.

A sense of freedom washed over the two kouhais, who both took in a relieved breath about not having to keep up the lies anymore. They looked at each other then and sort of smirked at each other. Nothing was fixed by confessing about the party and, now that they confirmed they were interested in each other, the dating jokes were probably only just beginning, but it was their truth and they just wanted to live in it. For a moment, neither of them wanted to feel anxious about what was going on around them, even as the team shouted more questions about why were they throwing a party in the first place or why were they showering together if they didn’t like each other then or why would they go to these extremes, dear god, and why weren’t they answering?!

Toru Iwashimizu, who knew very well that today was the first day of their relationship, called out to the team, “Let them have a day, guys. We’ll rag on them later.”

All Momo and Ai wanted was a simple moment together.

-

They lied on Nitori’s bed together on top of the sheets, facing each other with a quiet acceptance. So much chaos in one day, but for a moment, it didn’t matter. They could just enjoy being near each other. Give them a chance to get used to each other. Be with each other.

“I’m sorry I ruined today,” said Momotarou.

Nitori reached his hand out to Momo, twiddling their fingers.

“You didn’t really,” he said, accepting that fact. “You didn’t start those rumors.”

They scooted closer to each other, enough to press their chests together and nuzzle their necks like swans. Let them feel each other’s heartbeats, that’s all they wanted. Just enough to hear that they were still excited about each other even with clothes on, that their breathing was still deep for each other because they were comfortable in each other’s arms, that when it got quiet it was intimate, not awkward. Maybe they couldn’t have a first day, but they could have a first night.

“Can we kiss again?” asked Momo, who gently tucked some fallen bangs away from Nitori’s face in case he said yes and who noticed the faint blush creeping up his senpai’s ears.

“Sure.”

Their noses bumped, as they realized they weren’t sure how to tilt their heads for a kiss in bed. A soft giggle slipped out as Nitori pointed his finger to the right, and they both adjusted their heads for a second try. A sweet kiss for an evening, involving parted lips and heated cheeks.

Just a moment to relive that morning, that’s all they wanted.

Another kiss.