Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Weesa has always hated school.

That hatred ran deep, down pass his skin to his very bones, firey hot. He hated it since he stepped into elementary and frowned in his class photo. hated it in middle school and started missing class with a variety of excuses such as his dog eating it even though he didn't have a dog (he can to chew up his own algebra homework to make it look realistic).

And he really, truly, hates it now, with skipping becoming an addiction of his.

Festivals never took away from that. no matter how fun then were. Nevertheless the cultural festival, the arguably most boring one of them all since their basketball team did nothing anyways. What were they supposed to do? A three point contest? A half time show? A basketball musical?

That'd be so fucking cringe, he'd rather die.
Genuinely. At school, he'd always prefer that. Just being seven foot in the dirt. Shoot a gun right through his head. Stab him with a goddamn Katana Shogun style for all he cares. Just not school. It's gotten to the point where his distaste for it has garnered him a status as being a delinquent. a fucking delinquent ─ the word makes him sound like a criminal. Sure, he messes around with the freshman and younger students from time to time, but that?

Nah.

Spring has brought new sunshine that casts a warm glow over the school’s cultural festival, staining the normally bleak academy with laughter, chatter, and food aromas. Him and Jimmy drift through, hands stuffed causally into the pockets of their club jackets ─ silver with navy trim, white tiger emblem on the back. Attention grabbing and loud in nature, just his style.

As they wandered near the auditorium, a hush fell over the crowd. Weesa squints. The faint strains of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake floated out from the open doors, soft and haunting, like a secret whispered that nearly gets whisked away by the breeze. Intrigued, Weesa slowed, then stopped in his tracks, Jimmy bumping into him before throwing a kick at his shins, annoyed.

But Weesa's normal grin, sharp and always amused and slightly intimidating, had slowly slipped from his face. This was new.

Inside, on the dimly lit stage, a boy had moved with a grace so mesmerizing it seemed almost unreal. His long, slender arms curved like waves, feet barely skimming the floor, every motion fluid and precise.

And he was fucking beautiful.
Like the beautiful that makes you forget to breath, or how to, and Weesa's never described a man like that. And it's not like he doesn't compliment guys, no, he slings nice words around casually, throwing the word cool to describe every guy he hung around or jokingly using cute to the younger students to annoy them. But beautiful? He barely even calls girls that, just calls girls pretty most of the time.

His eyes widened, glassy with fascination and awe. “Holy shit… I didn’t know ballet could be so beautiful. Bro…”

Starting to cackle, Jimmy slaps his shoulder before pointing at his expression while . "No shit, " He shoves him, continues to laugh and eventually wheezes, clutching at his gut to subside the pain caused by Weesa sounding this stupid. "You dumbass, that's what it's known for. "

"Who, "
Words get lodged in his throat as he pauses, unable to look away, unable to speak, almost unable to breathe. In moments, the beautiful boy's gaze ── deep and heavy ── moves from his own body and the intricate details of stage to meet Weesa's widen ones. For a second. For a fleeting moment that Weesa can't hold onto. The intensity of his gaze made Weesa feel exposed, as if the façade surrounding him ── built by rumours, his own reckless classroom behavior and his stardom within athletics ── had crumbled. Just seeing those eyes through the strands that fell in front of the boy's face, wet with sweat as his chest heaved up and down, was enough. And the beautiful boy didn’t do anything more, instead, he turned his head, focusing back on the performance with serene detachment.

Blinking a couple of times, be knocks himself out of the trance, tapping at Jimmy's shoulder over and over until his friend yanks his hand away. "Who is he? "

"Why do you need to know? "

"I just need-, ' Weesa sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I just want to. Okay? "

"Ko-, Kokoro I think? Kohatsu Kokoro? Bro, I dunno, man. "

Kokoro.
okay.
Kokoro with the pretty eyes and ice cold stare and clean, freshly cut middle parted hair and shiny lips and silver ear piercings.
Kohatsu Kokoro.

Kokoro.

"Some girls said he transfered end of last year. Just know he's like fuckin’ barbie; student president, debate coach in under five months and who knows the fuck else. "

Weesa's eyes twinkle, a dumb smile unfolding on his lips as he begins to speak broken english. "...Mafia boss.. type shit? "

"Fuckin’ dumbass, " Jimmy rolls his eyes, grinning before ruffling Weesa's head roughly. "Just shut up and go, I'm hungry. You use english slang like a ten year old on cod. "

Quickly outside the auditorium, mostly by Jimmy dragging him by his hair, the festival buzzed with life. Their walk stirs towards the pastels of the cooking club’s booth, where the smell of grilled yakitori mingled with sweet custard and earthy red bean.

There, Ryushin ─ a lively, spirited boy with big, shining eyes that Jimmy and him had in a few of their classes ─ stood nervously in front of the stall with a oversized moo-deng plushie to his right. Ren, the sharp-witted nephew of their assistant coach, was on his left with eyes glued to the girl working behind the stall's front. Jimmy's eyes track Ryushin's little fidgets with his beaded bracelets like he was analyzing a former game tap. It's kinda freaky to be honest, at least in Weesa's opinion, Jimmy's watching him like a freaky hawk. For absolutely no reason.

He doesn't focus on it much though, he can't really, his observations are interrupted by a rowdy group of baseball players flocking in, loud and quite frankly annoying. In a matter of moments, they started throwing out words for no other reason than to see a bothered look wash over Ryushin's features.

"Baking still? Ryushin, are you sure you're a guy down there? "

"Are you saying that baking eliminates that fact that I got a dick? Or do you just want to see my dick? " Ryushin rambles, stopping to look at them with pure disgust as he squints.

"What? " One of the baseball boys panics. "What the hell? "

"Shut up, Jesus, stop being a pussy. " Another baseball player says to his teammate before looking down at Ryushin. "You really are slow, huh? Slow and soft, shit man, pick a struggle. "

The next few moments, Ryushin's face scrunches up, as he ruffles his own milky brown dyed hair before sighing and pushing the swarm of baseball players out his way. Puffing up his cheeks like a determined chipmunk ready to fight for a pile of acorns, Ryushin suddenly snaps, “You wanna call me soft, fine! But you won't dare to call a varsity basketball player soft, right? Right! "

Slowly turning red from how loud his voice was and how people surrounding other stalls, he latches onto Ren’s arm for moral support, dragging him towards the wooden pole which had a tryout blank list.

“Cute. " Jimmy murmurs, almost unaware of what he was saying and how Weesa's gaze in his direction turned jokingly suspicious. "He's tryna act tough. "

"Shit, didn't expect it. ”

"Yeah. Don't think he did either. Heat of the moment, no? "

Watching pen go to paper, Ryushin's then Ren's, Weesa cackles at Ren's expression ─ dejected as if his life had been stolen away from him.

“Oi, Ren! Good on you, bro! Maybe you’ll finally answer your uncle’s prayers! "

All that Weesa gets in return to his positive and encouraging words is a middle finger from Ren, who's eyes were relentless in finding and watching Sayaka from the cooking club. She was dressed in a delicate floral babydol dress, her smile shy but genuine.

How fuckin’ cute, huh?
Weesa wants to gag.
love at his high school, get rid of it right now.

Whatever. Their jobs as bystanders were done. Fun. For once, this was fun. fuck, is this the year were he matures and starts to like school?

Nah.

That's insane.

Just as Weesa was about to ponder it deeper, something hits his right lower torso, hard, as he turns to find want it was, he discovers he'd collided with someone seconds before Someone that was noticeably inches shorter.

“Watch it,” A cold voice says, stepping back but not without a flicker of something in his eyes. Weesa looks down and his eyes dart across that face.

Kokoro. Kohatsu Kokoro. Beautiful boy.

Kokoro icing him out reminds him of the foreign models he'd walked along side with during his little runway stint during his Osaka holiday. Just.. a lot shorter. Almost pocket sized. Adorable really.

wait.

Can he even call another boy adorable? is that weird? Is that like, bullying?

Caught off guard, Weesa just blinked. His mouth opens say something, maybe a compliment, but the words tangled and froze inside. So instead, they just stared at each other for a heartbeat.

Kokoro’s cheeks flushed faintly, a rare break in his cold exterior, before he quickly glanced away and kept walking away.

He’s beautiful, Weesa thought again, heart pounding against his ribcage, as he watches him leave. His seed of curiosity was planted deep somewhere in his warm chest.

Yet Jimmy's commentary swiftly breaks his short daydreaming and forces him back into reality. "Jeez, cold, isn't he? Gotten himself into a fuckin' ice prince status even though he's only even around for.. four or five months? Shit's crazy. Girls are crazy. "

"Whatever, man. He probably has a good reason for being all quiet and freaky. like a scary minion. "

"It is what it is, he could be one of those lizard people, bro. Like Zuckerberg and ‘em. "

".. Dude, did chemistry mind-fuck you? "

The rest of the day continues as usual; they pick up some baked goods from Ryushin's stalk and Jimmy's voice goes a little softer when he talks to the baking club member. They play on and on during lunch, and he swore he could see Ryushin's, who seemed to drag along Ren, spying on him and Jimmy, poking their milk brown and blond dyed hair out in the gym door. Weird. They look at Jimmy mostly.

And like always, he ends up skipping some classes by the end of the day.

After school, he strolled into detention late, with the usual casualness from his familiarity with this place and it's four walls. The worn-out mop and bucket were his familiar companions in this after-school purgatory. But today, his cunning, canine spotlighted smile falters.

There, sitting perfectly composed in the far corner, was Kokoro. Kohatsu Kokoro

He was even more striking up close. Pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and eyes that were cold and unreadable lined with thick, long lashes. He sat silently, reviewing over a math textbook, exuding a quiet confidence that both intrigued and unnerved Weesa.

Settling down beside him, far too close for an empty classroom, Weesa grin stretches across his face. Cheshire Cat like. “Must’ve gotten detention by mistake, huh? Prince lost his slipper and ended up stuck in the wrong place.”

Kokoro glanges up, voice clipped and dry. “You like fairytales? Grow up. ”

He chuckles, as if the other boy had told him an excellent joke and had been a natural comedian. “Weesa. Saiki Weesa. "

"Weesa?"

"Not Japanese enough for ya? " Kokoro scoffs at the allegation thrown as Weesa carries on. "The three things I actually like are basketball, women, and pretty things. You? Besides ballet, y'know. ”

Kokoro’s shiny but hollow eyes flicked away briefly before returning. “I might go overseas for further study soon, I like to dance, I like to sing. ” he said, voice carefully neutral. “That’s all.”

Sensing there was more beneath the surface but respecting the walls Kokoro had built, he just nods.

Their punishment was to mop the hallways and lockers, a mundane task that left them to get on each other's nerves. Even the perfect student president seems to be annoyed over the squeaky mopping sounds.

“You’re way too uptight for this,” Weesa teased, swiping the mop lazily. "Chill man, your posture's so weird, a full fuckin’ ninety degrees angle. "

Kokoro’s reply was short, but with a hint of amusement. “And you’re reckless enough for both of us. You'll trip over the puddles you're making. "

"Why.. You care about me? "

"Nah. " Kokoro laughs softly ─ it's a beautiful sound. "I'm counting on it happening. I want it to. "

"Eh? " Weesa laughs through a smile. "You're more fucked up than I thought. Just hide it behind a pretty boy facade. I see though it though. "

"Mhm."

Despite the clash, he found himself oddly drawn to Kokoro’s calm, steady presence. He’d never met anyone like him before.  Kinda like the stars up above, so beautiful yet so unreachable.

Because just has soon as it's started, it's over, Kokoro's disappeared just like a goddamn vampire and he's stuck third wheeling a weird pairing of Jimmy and Ryushin as their forced into a trio since Ren's sick.

“I... I’m new to sports,” Ryushin had confessed to them, holding the ball awkwardly, “but I want to try basketball.”

Jimmy barely hid his grin. Why's he being so soft with Ryushin as if he didn't make Weesa run suicides and dunked on him when they recruited him. This sudden softness earns a judgemental look as Jimmy gave Ryushin a half-smile and a few pointers, as if be was secretly hoping that he might stick around.

what the hell, Weesa glares at them, get it out of my face right now. Let me go home, please, I'm begging. I'm gonna kill myseeeelf.

Tolerating his accelerated younger classmate Saiki Weesa is far harder than he ever thought.

More difficult than national debate competitions.
More difficult than the damn shibuya dance circuit.

It's almost like Weesa's more interested in talking and dunking the ball then actually participating in the drills their physical education teacher had given.

"So what's your highest score? "

Confused, he squints at Weesa's question. "..Huh? "

"How many shots have you got in a row? " Weesa repeats, juggling the ball before twisting his feet in a way that he spins as the ball flicks from his hands and swishes into the hoop.

"We're not supposed to be doing one on one matches right now. Can you stop for once? "

"Boring. You probably can't even get past ten. Not even five, bro, with your shortness. " Weesa teases beneath his breath, so quiet that Kokoro would have thought he'd imagine it except that mocking smile appears.

And as well mannered as Kokoro was molded to be, he has always too competitive for his own good. Even for stupid things like this, he despises when people underestimate him, especially like this.

His eyebrows raise, "Come again? Just ten? And I'm not short! "

"I mean, c'mon, you got the height of a minion. " Weesa grins, "Prove me wrong. "

Kokoro  does just that.
One, two, three,
Numbers begin becoming meaningless when he passed the 30's and he can see defeat settling in on the younger boy's face. He can hear Weesa scoff beside him. To just add salt in the wound, Kokoro decides to end with a bang so when Weesa zones out, chewing gum and nodding to the beat of the music in his earbuds, He punts the ball into him, hitting him near his backside.

"Aye, what the fuck, man! " He can hear Weesa shout from a distance, before the both of them are running. Weesa's chasing after him instantly that his phone slips out his pocket, and Kokoro can't help but snicker and laugh as he runs.

For as slow as everyone is compared to him, Weesa surprisingly keeps up with his pace. Enough to shove him slightly. Probably since he's an student on an athlete scholarship, he's heard the popular girls talk about it when they were ranting about how hot Weesa was. However his legs gave out, probably from exhaustion, tangling with Weesa's as he brought the other down to meet the ground with him.
They're a tumble of bodies when they hit the floor, Weesa's hand is loosely clutch at his waist and Weesa's lips come to close to his neck.

One full minute went by without a single word.

Weesa looked up, then down, then up towards the prideful look on Kokoro face again, an almost smile ghosting his lips. It looks like he's about to immediately start boasting again but Kokoro can't deny that being this close to this new classmate of his makes his stomach flips.

"You have anything else to show me, prince? " Weesa teases, grin just sharp enough to be mocking but in a strange way, Kokoro doesn't mind it.

Even if it's a joke, Kokoro doesn't kind being called a prince by that guy. That has to account for something.

Grinning, he nods. "Got a whole list."

"So, Kokoro and Weesa. You know something, Jimmy? "

Big doe eyes flash from the scene of the two mentioned boys rolling around on the ground then to Jimmy for an explanation. What Jimmy gives isn't exactly helpful.

The basketball player squints. "You think that I have a fucking clue? "

Ryushin's gaze darts to his best friend. "Ren, you know? "

Ren just shrugs.
Confusion leave the three boys in silence for a moment. Then again, Jimmy knows Weesa had done various things just to prove that he could do them. His competitiveness was intense.

"Hey, what are you guys gossiping about like little girls? " Weesa calls out, before no explanation is given, leaving him oblivious as usual. "Fuck you guys then! "

But he had long decided he didn’t like-like Kokoro, though, when feelings like these had arisen last time. Kokoro is attractive, sure, but why does his eyes look at him like that? Like he's unable to look away?
Weesa's never been good at answering questions like that due his heart seemingly having a mind of his own. He doesn't even like Kokoro in a friend way, he's too uptight and cold for that to happen.
Just was admiring the other man in a perfectly normal, friendly (as friendly he can be) kind of way. That was all. Nothing stange and weird. Nothing like this.

Now, looking at those eyes, it feels like he's in the dark towards his own emotions. It doesn't matter much. They end up beating them by a literal landslide.

"Good game, golden boy. "

The words aren't bad blooded when they leave Kokoro's lips, one's glistening with a watery shine from sipping on a glass water bottle, but when those lips curl into a cunning smile, it is.

..Golden boy?
Couped with a playfulness in his eyes, Kokoro has to be trying to dig at his status of being the most popular guy at school.
Sure, he might be the golden boy at Shibuya Tensei but that was his club, his team ever since he was recruited by an upperclassmen that had saved him from a bullying incident.
So what if the club might pay more attention to him? At least he deserved it.

"Yeah."
He stiffly replies.
There's a slight downturn of Kokoro's lips after his words and an expression washes over his features alike to dejection.
However, he can't marinate in the sight of that cocky gaze being knocked off when Jimmy's arm wraps around him and celebratory yelling blasts in his left ear. Because that has to be it, he enjoys having Kokoru's teasing look in his eyes vanish, right? The senior's hubris to dissipate into the humid air.

Yet, somewhere in the pits of his guts, a soft echo of concern makes a little dent in his thinking.

No.
This is good. This is really good.
Ice prince Kohatsu Kokoro is finally knocked down to their level.

Great.. 

Chapter Text

Today, Weesa felt like a zombie.

It wasn't unusual to feel that way dragging himself to school each week, but today especially. Pain had still lingered in his body, his lungs stung with exhaustion and his chest aching with hurt from sprinting away from his parent's lone sharks after school last night. It's crazy really ─ how lone sharks want to tear apart families and are so robotic to all of it, to foreigners like his parents especially.

Being half Morrocan and Korean taught him a lot of things ─ that his cultures' food was really good, that his height will be way over the average of people here, that shop keepers always think he's stealing and old people stuck in their ways always think he's bringing around trouble.

Well, what can he do about it? He's just one boy, he knows that, he can't change a whole culture or way of thinking. So he eats his shakshuka, adds three eggs for protein, with flaky flat bread his mom made, making sure to leave some for Malik, before shoving a basketball and mma gloves into his bag and tying his shoelaces. He runs down the apartment stairs before reaching his bike, unlocking the lock and jetting off. There's a fifteen minute distance between his cramped apartment and school, which he can cover in ten if he's really running late.

Luckily enough, he's not, and chooses to plug in some American hip hop into his airpods before turning onto his second street. And then he sees it, sees him more accurately.

Beautiful boy.
Kohatsu Kokoro.
Swan Lake.

He's just walking, and he's beautiful. That's all it takes. Golden rays of sunshine wrap around his head like a halo, as if he was an angel, his pale skin almost looking luminous in the glow of light. Beautiful. Really, truly, Beautiful. That was the only word Weesa could think of, the only word in his vocabulary really, as he nearly crashed his bike into a bin due to staring at the other boy.

Kokoro just keeps walking ahead, humming a rnb song, one he had wrote himself, as he sniffles at the pollen Spring had brought with it. He continues doing that, eyes squinting from the sunshine until his gaze lands upon a familiar student. He nearly drops his bag straight onto the concrete pathway.

A student from his former school.
It's her. who had stalked him all throughout ninth grade until the accident happened.

Shit.

He contemplates sprinting away, or just charging into traffic and letting a truck get the best of him. Unfortunately, all that contemplating leads to time being wasted, as she draws near enough to clutch Kokoro's wrist, forcing him to take out his airpods.

"Kokoro, why didn't you tell me you...were going to leave? "

"I don't owe that to you─"

"Yes you fucking do! You.. " Her voice hitches as she takes in a frantic breath. "You do, and you should be sure it. After the incident, you do. We both─"

"I didn't kill him and you know that! "

"What does it matter? " She almost cackles, enough to get Weesa's eyes to snap back in their direction. "Everyone thinks you did anyways! "

Their interaction escalating swiftly, Kokoro successfully yanks the girl off of his wrist, before pushing her softly away. He may hate the girl with all the fibers in his body, but he won't ever hurt a girl. His mother taught him that.

"Shut the fuck up!─"

"Don't say that to me! " She scream back, her fist clenching as if she's about to swing at Kokoro's face. Flinching, Kokoro makes a weak attempt to protect himself, blocking his face poorly with his hands balled up in fists. "Or you'll fucking regret it, kokoro!─"

She's just about to, and Weesa can't stand to watch this happen.

"Oi, stop! " He shouts from afar, hopping off of his bike and throwing it to the pavement. He sprints until his lungs burn, before intercepting the two's argument. "Fuckin’ stop it right now! "

"My mother taught me to never hit a girl but, " He firmly shoves the pestering girl a few steps back, before taking his place in front of Kokoro, letting the shorter boy clutch at the bottom of his hoodie. "If you keep being a nuisance to the public, I will call it self defense as my ears can't take it any longer. Alright? "

"... Fine. " She mumbles, shooting enough sharp look at Kokoro before leaving in the opposite direction.

"Are you.. okay? " Weesa's voice almost breaks with concern, patting the other boy down in case of any injured he had missed with his eyes.

But this close, Kokoro can really look at Weesa ─ handsome, that was established by how many girls run after him at school, but littered with old knicks and scars like the one right above his eyebrow. Or this bruise stretching across his cheek bone, ugly shades of purple and yellow staining his golden skin from under his eye to the left side of his face.

Was golden boy.. being beaten up after school?

abused, bullied, assaulted ?
Huh? What was going on?

"I'm not a damsel in distress. " Kokoro mumbles, pushing away Weesa's prying hands, his ears flushed pink. He then watches the younger boy pick up his previously discarded bike and shoot him a smile ─ one of those familiar boyish, puppy like grins.

"I know, " Weesa's eyes twinkle with a spark of amusement, ruffling the other boy's perfectly styled hair before slipping an arm around his shoulder. "Swan."

"You're so annoying. "

"Very original. Tell me something I don't know already."

"I could've totally kicked her ass if i needed to. "

Cackling, Weesa just shakes his head at Kokoro's words. "For how graceful you are on stage and all the protein you eat, you block a punch like you're a new-born with two left hands. "

"Shut the hell up or I'm throwing you into a truck─"

"Like you could. " The younger boy retorts, grinning. Following after, he ruffles through his pocket, eventually pulling out a crumpled up card and shoving it into Kokoro's hand. "If you join my mma gym, that might change..? "

Unimpressed, Kokoro states at him, expression blank, for a passing moment.
"Is this just your plot to become friends with me and make me the team manager. "

"... Maybe. "

"Not interested. "

"Just take it! Jeez, man, think on it for a second, you fuckin' hothead. " Weesa groans, childishly shoving Kokoro away. "If you don't want to, just throw it away later.

Surprisingly, Kokoro doesn't throw away the small card, and hides it in the pockets of the inner layer of his dance team, school varsity jacket. Even more surprisingly, they make it to their first period, Ryoga's Japanese literature class, early.

Their classroom's golden by the moment they walk in, with Spring coming in full swing. Ryushin and Ren are already there, Ryushin blabbering on about New Jeans with his fellow baking club member; Sayaka, as Ren just admires her (or stares like a complete weirdo, in Weesa's opinion).

Pollen came with Spring too, with Kokoro being it's first victim as soon as he sits down into his designated seat.

"Eh? Kokoro sneezes like a girl! " Ryushin laughs in the chair front.

"Wh-, what did you just say? " Kokoro splitters, before yanking a pink strand of hair in Ryushin's bleached blond head, Ryushin letting out a yelp of pain. "Say that again, and I'll kill you! "

Weesa cackles into Ren, before pointing towards Kokoro. "Yo! Ryu chan's right, you do sneeze like a girl─"

"And what? You wanna see my dick to prove I'm a man? " Kokoro snaps.

Weesa instantly pauses, flustered. "Huh? "

"Huh? " Kokoro echoes, his pale skin flushing intensely into a warm peach shade.

Their silence and the eye contact between them is so awkward Ren and Ryushin nearly pass away from second hand embarrassment.

It's only interrupted by the opening of the door, and a shocked voice. "What the fuck did I walk into? "

As soon as his eyes land on the other boy, Ryushin's face lights up in a bright, wide smile before he yells, "Jimmy! Good morning! ".

Getting to his feet, he drags Jimmy by the hand over to his desk, where a tub of cupcakes had been placed. He rushes to open it up, before holding a cup cake; a little familiar face drawn on with braids, tooth gems and a basketball.

He showcases it proudly to the other boy, before excitedly pointing out.  "Look, look, it's you! "

"That's bullshit! " Weesa slams his hands against his desk, suddenly standing up before pointing an accusatory finger towards the two boys and that stupid cute cupcake. "How come Jimmy gets a cupcake and the rest of us don't? "

Ryushin glares, Jimmy just snickers, ruffling the shorter boy's soft hair until it fell in front of his eyes.

"Calm down, fat ass. " He mutters, shoving the tub of other cupcakes into Weesa's hands.. "Here."

"Hey, " Ren pouts. "Why don't ours have faces like Jimmy's does? "

"Beggars can't be choosers. " Ryushin retorts, rolling his eyes. "Anyways, you're practically stalking Sayaka with your eyes, it's weird. "

"Shut up, you're so annoying! " Ren tells, unexpectedly loud as the room goes silent, only breaking with the light sound of Sayaka's laugh. It's disgusting to the rest of the boys how quickly their friend Ren seems to melt.

"And Weesa's getting...choked to death by a minion, " Ryushin continues, watching Kokoro get Weesa back for the sneezing comment the younger boy had made minutes ago. "You guys wouldn't even appreciate the cupcakes like Jimmy does. "

"Right." Jimmy echoes, nodding as he pulls Ryushin closet with the arm slings an arm over his shoulder, the bleached blond boy's face bursting into a reddish hue.

Catching the sight, Kokoro doesn't miss a chance to make fun of how warm and flushed his friend's face looks, halting his death head lock on Weesa to point a finger at Ryushin's face. "Why the hell does your face look like that, Ryushin? Are you about to explode? "

"Shut up, dumbass! "

"Wrong actually. " Kokoro corrects, grinning. "Did you forget that ranked in the country's top ten? "

"Well, you aren't number one, are you asshole! "

"Not yet. "

"Shove your ranking up your ass for all I care! "

"Okay, okay, " Ryoga intervenes, finally stepping in as their Japanese literature teacher and not just watching the entertaining argument between friends unfold. "Boys, calm down. "

"It's Ryushin's fault─"

"You saw right? Kokoro was being a dumbass with me─"

"I truly don't care. " Ryoga groans. "Get your books out. "

"Ah, shit, "

"Weesa.."

"I forgot the book. "

"You.. Whatever.. " Their teacher sighs, before waving a dismissive hand. "Share with Kokoro. "

"Eh? What? Why me...? "

Grinning, as if he was relishing in Kokoro's pain, Weesa drags a chair over before leaning his head on the short boy's shoulder. "Fate, right? "

"Shove fate up your ass. " Kokoro grumbles, pushing Weesa's head away roughly.

"Feisty.. Insult me more. " Weesa spits back, grasping at Kokoro's hand. "It kinda turns me on. "

"Just... " Kokoro stammers, yanking his hand away and opening the book. "Just shut up. "

"Yes sir. " Weesa nods obediently, leaning closer to be able to read the same page.

partners, huh?
Sharing the same book.
Romantic right?

Or it looks that way when out of the corner of his eye, Weesa can see Jimmy and Ryushin do it, without even needing to be forced together by Ryoga. Grinning, a little stupidly, Ryushin opens Jimmy's hand before shoving a folded up paper into his palm.

ew. pda at school should be banned,
Weesa thinks, before scoffing.

Jimmy squints, confused. "Huh? What's this? "

"Poster. " Ryushin answers. "We're hosting a bake stall during lunch! You have to come, look! I even have you a hundred yen off. So, you have to come. "

"Who says I have to? "

"I say! Or I'll beat you up. " Ryushin retorts, flexing his unexpectedly defined biceps.

"Holy shit."  Jimmy pokes at the muscle, before his hand trails down to poke at Ryushin's stomach as the boy laughs, pushing away his hands.

"No more! No more! "

"You can take it! " Jimmy laughs into the crook of Ryushin's neck, continuing to tickle the other boy until the point of tears. "Buff Baby! "

"Buff... baby? " Weesa squints his eyes, repeating Jimmy's words in disgust. "What are we watching bro? "

"I usually skip this part. " Ren comments, shaking his head.

"Skip what part? "

"I'm alluding to this being a porno, Kokoro, are you dumb or what? Y'know, ow people like skip the shitty porn acting in the beginning of the video? "

Ren's ramblings only get cut off when an angel in human form, Sayaka turns her head due to their conversation, before tilting it.

"...Porn acting? " She murmurs, confused.

"No, no, no! " Ren rushes to say, as his friends cackle in the background. "We were talking about... corn! Yes, the vegetable! Corn actors... like people who cosplay corn! Yup, just that. Nothing else. "

"Oh." She nods, smiling. "I see. "

"Yeah.. "

"Enough of the corn talk boys! ...And Sayaka!" Ryoga interrupts, shouting, as if he was a military instructor. "Open your damn books for once! "

And it seems like finally,
finally their lesson would start.

Seemed like at least.

"Ryoga! Oi! " The door opens slightly and a cowboy boy hat pokes through. "Come here! "

"Tsurugi? " Ryoga sighs, jogging to the door. "Whhat did I tell you about doing this at school... "

"Mr Tsurugi and Mr Ryoga sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i ─"

"Sayaka, I swear if you finish that sentence, I will drag you personally to the office. "

".. Sorry, Mr Ryoga. Won't do it again. "

"You seriously forgot lunch again? I knew it. You're too forgetful.. " Weesa can hear Ryoga murmur, sounding like an annoyed housewife. It's kinda odd really ─ seeing his Japanese literature teacher, Ryoga, and his Physical Education teacher, Tsurugi, like this. Looking like a fuckin’ married couple exchanging lunches as Ryoga shoves a bento in the other teacher's hands. "Here. Take it. Don't.. give me that look and stare at me.. Idiot.. just take it. "

"Awh, do you like me? " Tsurugi jokes, his voice going ten octaves higher as he sings out the words.

"No, I hate hate hate you! " Ryoga grumbles, shoving the other man out of his classroom  "Now get out! "

"Got it! "

"Damn, is that how Mr Ryoga flirts? " Weesa mumbles, the words falling out of his mouth before he can even register them. "With his anger issues? "

Ren nods in aggrement. "It seems so. Total tsundere, right? "

"Mhm." Kokoro also hums, but seizing his moment and getting progressively more concerned over Weesa's ugly cheek bruise, he glances Weesa's way and pulls at his hand. "But cmon, kid, we need to go. "

"Eh? You wanna hold hands? "

"I want you to just get up so you don't die from a wound infection. " He spits back, grumbling. "Idiot. "

"Ah! " Sayaka taps at her friend's shoulder before pointing at the two boys, Weesa eventually being tugged up and off of his chair by Kokoro. "Wouldn't they be a cute couple? "

"Couple? " Kokoro picks up, his ears blasting heat as they instantly turn read. He shakes his head, over and over, almost as if he wanted to scramble his brain. "No No No! "

"No? " Weesa smirks, swinging his arm over the shorter boy's shoulder.

Skin flushed to the point he had been so red, it looked as if he had a fever, Kokoro rips his arm away, before shouting in English. "Girls, girls, girls, I like girls! Girls, girls! "

"Uh huh. " Ryushin nods, unimpressed. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself? "

"I like girls for fuck sake! "

"Keep telling yourself that, okay? "

"I'm gonna kill you!─"

"Over Sayaka being fujoshi? Just chill, it's nine in the morning, dude. "

"Don't worry, Kokoro reads BL too. "

"Eh? Ehhhh? What? " Sayaka stands up suddenly, her eyes widened as they snap in Kokoro's direction. "Really? "

Meanwhile, Kokoro seems to attempt to actually kill Weesa, punching at his gut. Weesa just cackles, ruffling the shorter boy's perfect hair until it turns into the black, thick locks turn into a messy bird's nest.

"Yeah." Weesa grins at Sayaka. "Fundashi means men that read boy's love, right? That's him. Caught him reading cherry magic. The one with Keita in the live action. "

"Amazing, I loved that one! " She squeals. "You shoulda told me Kokoro! "

"Shit, this is too funny! " Jimmy laughs into Ryushin's shoulder, who was giggling equally as loud. Beside them, Ren was strangely silent, eyes locked on Sayaka, almost admiring her.

"We have to go! " Kokoro suddenly announces, before proceeding to yank Weesa's wrist and drag the six foot basketball player to the door. "Cmon you stupid fuckin’ giraffe, move! "

"Okay, okay, I understand. Got it, moving now! "

And so, Weesa lets the little minion drag him to the med bay, before getting pushed into a bed. Small sounds are made when Kokoro scrambles through cabinets, attempting to find anything useful.

Antiseptic and a fat, wide bandaid is what Kokoro comes back with, a small smile playing on his lips as he pours the pink liquid onto a cotton bud.

"This is gonna hurt, y’know? " Kokoro warns, as Weesa grins, softly nodding and clutching the shorter boy's thigh as if it was a stress toy. Yet when he finds himself doing the stitches, he's so close that he can feel the other boy's exhales against the sensitive skin of his neck.

"You're too close, Koko. "

Weesa's voice in that moment takes Kokoro aback ─ it's deep, low, raspy even and a little desperate.

"Huh? I have to be this close to help, dunbasss. "

"... Kokoro is dangerous.. dangerous. "

"Oi! " He lightly slaps Weesa's head as soon as he hears the informality in the younger boy's word choice. "What did I say about referring to me like that, you stupid kid! "

"Kid? " He yanks Kokoro wrist suddenly, forcing the younger boy to collapse into his body, chest against chest. "Would a kid do this? "

"What? Get-, get off me! "

Weesa cackles, clapping with his hands as Kokoro scrambles onto his feet. "Did your heart flutter? " The lanky, tall basketballer asks jokingly, before his shin gets kicked hard by the other boy.

"Shut up─"

"Make me. "

"You're-, you're so annoying, man. Just, keep quiet or I'll leave. "

"Okay, okay. Got it, koko. "

And the treatment does end up stinging, but the sensation isn't anything new or unfamiliar, just hurts enough that his fingers dig into Kokoro's thigh. The procedure is done pretty quickly after that, with the wide bandaid being covered up by two cuter, dog decorated bandaids.

"..Pochako? " Weesa murmurs, watching Kokoro beam back at him.

"Cute, right? "

"Yeah." Weesa's eyes linger on Kokoro's fingers, the thin, soft ones that had been touching his face mere moments ago, before nodding. "Cute."

cute.
like Koko.

Trying to kiss each other had become a joke between the boys started by Ryushin ─ always touchy and playful enough for it to make sense.

But also, somehow, Jimmy?

What the fuck?

Weesa's known Jimmy for years.
Since they were eight when he had stumbled into his nine year old boy neighbor's apartment instead of his own, and ended up playing basketball all day until the sun went down. Known him so long that he's aware that this whole cool, cold persona girls know him for is fake.

But this fake?

Fake enough for him to soften into play dough around Ryushin and let the bleached blond boy jokingly lean in to peck his cheek, or let him hold his hand, or let him hug his back. That fake?

Ah.

Weesa doesn't know anymore.

It's insane.
Maybe the BLs Kokoro and Sayaka read are more accurate than he thought.

Like right now ─
Jimmy's clutching Ryushin's shins and calves to help steady the shorter boy during his sit-ups, but not really. They're giggling like crazy people. Because they are crazy people, at least, in Weesa's opinion. Each sit up leads to them jokingly leaning in with their lips puckered up like fish, just nearly missing each other's mouths, practically sharing the same air.

That's until the tenth one, where Ryushin pokes his lips out and wraps his arms tightly around Jimmy's shoulders. Cackling as his arms snake around Ryushin's waist, Jimmy lets both their bodies slam against the polished floor of the basketball court. Weesa can't quite tell if they kiss then and there but he can see Jimmy's lips pecking Ryushin's neck as Ryushin's legs tighten around the taller boy's lower torso.

A few stray giggles escape Ryushin's mouth as he takes on an obnoxiously high pitched voice and yells, 'I can't take it anymore! I like it so much, Jimmy! '. That annoying voice that Ryushin using now is drowned out when Jimmy tightly hugs him. After five or so minutes, Jimmy finally stops strangling the other boy as he just stares down, Ryushin panting beneath him and sunlight slips into those warm, doe eyes, beginning to sparkle.

"You know, I had a dream last night. " He murmurs, brushing the light coloured, stray strands of hair out of Ryushin's face before lingering on the streak of pink hair he had. "You were in it. "

Ryushin's toothy smile only grows wider, his voice turning breathy with shock. "I was? "

"Yeah. I was all old and wrinkly and you were still cute, " Jimmy smiles, swirling the pink streak of hair with his finger. ", and pink. "

Then, within a second passing, Ryushin sits up, his face flushed as if he played multiple matches after hearing Jimmy's words. "You-," He splutters. "You think I'm cute? "

Shrugging, Jimmy looks down to his hands before back to Ryushin's shocked face. "Doesn't everyone? "

"Oh." Embarrassed, Ryushin nods, smiling again. "I see.. "

"Are you.. disappointed─"

"Stop doing that PDA bullshitting or I'll kick you both out myself, assholes! " Weesa interrupts from across the court, cutting Jimmy off with his shouting. A ball is thrown at their intertwined bodies, causing them to hug each other tighter if they were dating or some other couple-ly bullshit.

because it was bullshit,
who the hell allowed them to be so lovey dovey at school?
In front of his eyes?

Fuck his life.

At least he had his new phone ringtone ─ a small recording he got in gym class where Kokoro was singing in the bathroom, completely unaware of anyone else there.

It became his little secret. Every time his phone rang in class, that clear, unexpected voice drifting from his pocket, he'd smirk. Sometimes even glance at Kokoro just to watch the boy stiffen in suspicion, not knowing why the sound made Weesa grin so wide.

But it wasn't all just teasing.

Weesa was also on a mission, the most important mission of his seventeen years of living so far ─ getting the basketball team a student representative.

And he knew who he wanted.
Not because Kokoro was the most obvious choice, but because Kokoro was the choice.

He tracked him down during lunch ─ post-class, in the hallway outside the chemistry lab. Kokoro leaned against the lockers, uniform perfectly done up to the top with tie and all, one hand buried in his bag while the other held his phone like a shield.

"Kokoro." Weesa approaches casually, or attempts to anyways

The boy didn't even glance up. "Don't."

"You haven't even heard what I'm asking."

Kokoro looked at him then ─ cool, expressionless, eyes like polished steel. "I'm not managing your team."

"Why not?"

"I don't have the time. Or the interest."

"Ouch. "Wincing, Weesa places a dramatic hand over his heart. "That was cold, even for you."

Sighing, Kokoro slid his phone away and turned toward the stairs. Weesa follows.

"I'm serious," he pushes. "You'd be good at it. You're organized, you don't take shit, and no one says no to your scary little death glare."

"I just did."

"Okay, besides you." Kokoro halts, exasperation leaking into his voice. "I have debate practice. And exams. And, you know, a life."

Glancing, Weesa sips at his neon blue coloured sports drink. "Debatable."

Kokoro's eyes narrows. "You're not funny."

"You're still listening," Weesa points out, lips curled in that signature cocky grin.

Kokoro stormed offs. And that's it for the ice prince, he doesn't see him, doesn't even catch a glimpse of that figure with the insanely piercing eyes.

But the next day, Weesa made good on his promise to ‘attend’ aka crash debate practice.

Ten minutes.

He showed up ten minutes early, wearing a perfectly pressed suit ─ an uncharacteristic outfit he had to beg Ryoga and Tsurugi to help him find. Ryoga had barked at him like a scolding mother, fussing with his tie. Tsurugi hadn't said much, but his smirk said enough: You're dressing up? For a guy?

Currently, Weesa was lounging in the back row of the lecture hall, clapping far too loudly whenever Kokoro made a good point. Which, frankly, was every other sentence.

Kokoro didn't look at him directly. But his face was bright pink the entire time, like a little strawberry.

Cute.
He sinks back into his chair.

Actually, he does fall asleep, taking a quick nap, as the opposition team and the second and third speaker of Kokoro's team debate. Boring shit, it mostly gets tuned out by the American rnb playing in his earbuds.

Harsh shoves are the only think that snap him out over his sleepy trace, getting him to take his earbuds and stare back with blurry vision.

"Oi! Weesa! Are you here to torment me? " Kokoro snaps. "Did I do something for you to hate me? Is that it? "

"Hate you? " Weesa scoffs, shaking his head. "I think it's impossible for someone to do that. "

"Oh, so are you here to sweet talk me into taking up that role then? "

"Yup, " Getting up from his seat, his fingers snap in Kokoro's direction. "You're right on the money, Koko. "

"Well, it won't work. Now piss off. " Kokoro grumbles. "And stop calling me that!

Instead of letting the other boy go, he just latches onto Kokoro's soft hand, beginning to run as Kokoro screams in shock. "Bad luck. You're stuck with me tonight. Hang on! "

Smoke is practically wafting off of the tiny minion's, beside Weesa, head, as he continues fuming. They end up catching a bus to the city somehow. Meeting the others was the plan, at some run down but most importantly, cheap, bubble tea store.

By the time they actually got there, Weesa had caught up to Ren and Ryushin who were both mid-argument over whether Kokoro could actually ‘smile like a normal person’ and not just glare at anyone he didn't know for like, a thousand years.

"I've seen it," Weesa comments, casually.

Ren raised a brow. "Bull."

"He smiled. Once. I caught it on camera. Some insta real about chiitan getting beat up by an mma fighter. The little guy's a complete weirdo. "

"Chitan? Really? " Ryushin laughs, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. "Are you stalking him?"

"Let's just call it 'documenting rare phenomena', alright? You all happy? "

They ordered drinks ─Kokoro's was Thai milk tea, pearls, and rainbow jelly ─ what a  complete weirdo. Anyways, Weesa filed it away like it mattered.

"So," he asks again, casually, sipping at his own drink ─ mango green tea with lychee jelly. "Team manager?"

"No."

"Still?"

"I said no."

"You're really stubborn for someone who is the height of an average middle schooler. "

Kokoro scoffs. "You're still using that, aren't you? I'm quite aware of my height, man, been this height for two whole years. "

Weesa just grinned.

By next morning ─ Wednesday ─ in which Shibuya Tensei international Academy  actually cares about their student and usually give them an hour late start, Weesa gets a multi paragraph sentence from his math teacher ─ Ms. Igarashi.

Did he also mention that his twelve year old little brother managed to convince him  to accelerate in his worst subject, math?

Did he also mention he's failing math currently?

Did he also also mention that he has to go to school at regular time since his math teacher wants to be a complete bitch and call him into the front office when the sun is barely awake?

No? Well, it's known now.
And Weesa couldn't hate school more, but honestly, his mom would probably kill him if he didn't show up to this meeting.

So he does the usual; puts on some clothes to not walk around naked, goes into Malik's room to mess with him like the annoying older brother he is, eats leftovers for breakfast, then heads down to his bike.

By the time he enters the staff lounge; He's met by the sight of Kokoro, but also Mr Ryoga (aka Ren's uncle) and Mr Tsurugi (aka his gym teacher)?

Weirdest of all, his eyes catch Mr Tsurugi drops a smoothie on Ryoga's desk with a wink.

"You shouldn't-" Ryoga murmurs with a smile, before, just then at that moment, another teacher walks in ─ Weesa's math teacher.

Weesa can practically see how much Ryoga stiffens, voice going cold.

"I owed him for winning the betting parlay when watching baseball last week." Tsurugi quickly covers, moving away from Ryoga 's desk with haste.

Ryoga watches him leave, and even more weirdly, it looks like there's guilt in his stare.

What the actual hell was going on between Ren's uncle and his gym teacher?

Whatever.
Weesa scrambles to get ahold of his thoughts.
There are more important things.

Like this ─ his failing math grades.

"Saiki Weesa. " Ms. Igarashi ─ his math teacher ─ announces, far too serious, as if she's going to send him to prison or some other weird shit.

"Yeah, here. "

"Kohatsu Kokoro. "

Kokoro gets up almost immediately. "Yes ma'am. "

Weesa physically recoils at the action, wanting to gag at how goody goody the shorter boy seemed to be.

"Weesa here needs at least a pass to maintain his place on the basketball team, "

"Wait, wait a second, " Weesa's eyes shoot wide, his mouth hanging open. "Who the hell said that? "

"Language." Ms. Igarashi corrects sternly. "After much contemplating, the other teachers and I have come to the conclusion that the best option is to have Kokoro tutor you. His grades are the best in our school, but especially in your year. Plus, his leadership as shown in his student president role is exceptional. "

Brows furrowed, Kokoro's eyes squint, puzzled. "Huh? Tutor? "

"They are the best, are they not? " Their teacher repeats, with Kokoro nodding. "Good. Weesa’s been assigned to you for academic tutoring. Tuesdays and Thursdays. I expect your signature on his worksheet by the end of each week. Questions?”

Kokoro didn’t answer immediately. He looked at her, then back to the disaster in the beanbag, and finally to the slowly emptying chip bag.

“I-, what? I didn’t agree to this.”

Ms. Igarashi raised one brow. “You’re ranked top five in your year, and you signed up for academic credit in community mentorship. This counts.”

“But—”

“You’re welcome.” She turned and vanished before he could object again.

Immediately, Weesa is way too enthusiastic about this, calling him “Koko-senpai” immediately, while he could only stare as if he’s been assigned a grand punishment from the gods.

It feels that way at least.

Weesa grinned up at him, shameless, as if his mental anguish was entertaining. “You’re my tutor? This’ll be fun.”

His eye twitched. “No. It won’t.”

Just silent.

Which is why, when he turned the corner into the study nook and saw a pair of long legs sprawled over his chair — his chair — he stopped.

Weesa looked up from where he was lounging in a beanbag, half a bag of
potato chips in one hand and his phone in the other. One earbud dangled from his collar like it had gotten bored of trying to stay in.

“Yo,” he said, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. “Took you long enough, Koko. ”

Kokoro blinked once, or more accurately, his eyes twitched once. Then twice.

“Why are you here.”

Weesa shrugs and pops another chip into his mouth. “Got sent, remember? ”

“You don’t even like the library.”

“That’s a stereotype. I love books. I love being quiet.” He pauses dramatically, chewing loudly. “And respectful.”

A forehead vein nearly popping out, Kokoro clenches his jaw. "Did someone send you to just make my life a living hell? "

Weesa coos at the threat, as if it was a love confession. "Awh, you think I'm that important? That's cute. "

Somehow, they both made it to sit at a table without Kokoro stabbing a pen through the laminated tutoring contract. Barely.

Weesa had opened his algebra workbook upside down and was now drumming the table with his pencil like it owed him money.

“Stop that,” Kokoro warns sharply.

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

“Can’t help it. The rhythm’s in my soul.”

Kokoro didn’t dignify that with a response. He pointed to the first problem. “Here. Start with this one. Factor the expression.”

Blankly, Weesa blinks at the page. “Cool. So what’s a factor again?”

Kokoro inhales through his nose. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was. I got distracted when we covered this. Teacher kept saying ‘prime’ and I kept thinking of giant robots.”

“…Are you serious?”

“Very.”

Kokoro pinched the bridge of his nose. “A factor is a number you can multiply to get another number. Factoring expressions means breaking them down into simpler pieces. Like-, like pulling apart a puzzle.”

“Ooh, I’m good at puzzles. Okay, okay, gimme a sec.”

He stared at the paper. Then he began writing — very slowly — something that looked like a phone number and a grocery list got into a fight and lost.

“Is this it?” he asked brightly, turning the notebook toward Kokoro.

Kokoro stared at the page. “That’s not math. That’s a crime scene.”

Weesa pouts. “I’m trying, dude.”

“No, you’re talking. There’s a difference.”

“Harsh.”

"Do you just want to throw your whole fuckin’ life away? " Kokoro finally snaps.

And there's a rare moment of Weesa going quiet, looking more like a kid, just a little misguided and struggling. Nothing more and nothing less.

Kokoro softens just a bit. “If you fail, you lose your scholarship. I’m not doing this for fun.”

“...Yeah.” Weesa’s expression flickered — just for a second. The grin faded like a light flicking off. Then, he smiles softly, eyes shining dimly in the faint light of the library's lamps. “Thanks, Koko. I didn’t think you cared.”

Silence stretches between them, thick as fog and as large as the ocean.

Kokoro felt something twist in his chest. It wasn’t guilt. Not exactly. But something close. Like remembering too late that a joke hit a nerve you didn’t know existed.

He glanced up.

Weesa had stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the page. He twirled the pencil absently, biting his lower lip as he stared at the problem again. For once, he wasn’t joking. He wasn’t deflecting.

He was trying. and succeeding.
Weesa had gotten a question right, a bright toothy smile slipping onto the younger boy's face and Kokoro can't surpress a smile from reaching his own lips.

He looks away before Weesa could catch him watching.

Maybe out of guilt, or perhaps some other emotion, He actually does stick around Weesa to accompany the younger boy on the way to his basketball practice and to buy him one of those funky energy drinks he always has.

Yet another thing he finds when he gets to the gym is Ryushin? Awkwardly, he's in a borrowed jersey three times his size and worn out sneakers, looking absolutely, obviously out of place.

Jimmy just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. "This isn't cooking club. Or the dance club at that. "

"I can do all three."

"You so sure? "

"I know for sure. "

Looking away from them, Kokoro returns his gaze back to Weesa, pausing, before he points out, flatly. “Your laces are untied. If you sprain an ankle on my floor, I’m leaving you there.”

Weesa, predictably, just winked in return.

The group laughed ─ he can hear Jimmy and Ren's weird cackles echo in his ear like a siren. He just scoffa, taking a seat in one of the court side benches and observing everything on the court.

There, in the center of it all, was Weesa. Not lounging. Not grinning. Just… focused.

He weaved between defenders like they weren’t there, pivoted on one foot, and launched himself upward — body arcing, clean as a blade — and dunked so hard the backboard rattled.

Kokoro blinks.

The laughter, the chaos — all of it was gone. Weesa’s face was taut with control. His mouth was a firm line. Not joking. Not posturing.

Just driven.

Kokoro's eyes lingers longer than he meant to.

Something about that version of Weesa —the one who didn’t need attention to shine — felt suddenly dangerous in a way he wasn’t prepared for.

That's when he realizes it,
Saiki Weesa is a really dangerous man to look out for.

He's the type to make people fall for him with just a glance, a glimpse, a brief look and touch. And Kokoro doesn't plan to be one of them ─ a poor, pathetic person trapped in Weesa's web. Hell, he doesn't even like guys, well. More accurately, He can't like guys, his dad would never let him. Nevertheless some one as brash and bold as Weesa.

And very, very dangerous.

This Saiki Weesa trance is quickly knocked out by Ryushin's annoying-ness, shoving a cookie into his face without hesitating or asking before tugging at Kokoro's cheek.

The hand is slapped away swiftly, leading Ryushin to furrow his brows. "You okay? You've been staring off into nothing. "

"Uh, " Kokoro blinks, ruffling his own hair. "Just zoned out. "

"In Weesa's direction? "

"No, man. " Kokoro scoffs. "Just go back to feeding Jimmy and the others onigri. "

"Whatever you say, pal. "

Today's practice ends with that; Ryushin handing out cling wrapped onigiris as if he was paid to ─ but Ryushin's always been like that since Kokoro met him months ago.

Lingering behind, he scouts out the area to see if it's empty, he needs any dance practice he could get for the Shibuya circuit.
Yet he catches glimpses of Mr Tsuguri and Mr Ryoga cleaning up alone. No wonder they're coaches for the basketball team, they practically glue to each other.

"I'm tired of pretending we're just, I don't know." Tsurugi sighs. "Just coworkers. "

Ryoga pats his shoulder, yet his touch lingers. "It's not about you... it's everyone else."

Huh?

Kokoro's eyes widen.

Oh?

"I want to not hide it." Tsurugi confesses, his lips brushing the other man's neck, before muttering. "I want to marry you, really. Can't need to be in Japan, but I don't care. "

OH?
what!
What the fuck!

Kokoro's jaw nearly falls to the floor.

Silenced, Ryoga stares at the floor, before tears start to shed. "...I want that too. " he admits in a broken voice, hitching as he sobs. "Maybe in a future, the law.. will change here. "

Tsuguri nods.

Comfortable silence.
For the couple of course, Kokoro is dying over here, practically suffocating on his shock. And he tries to leave quietly, until Ryoga's spiderman senses seem to start tingling and his gaze snaps in his student's direction.

"Uh, I'm gonna.. head out. " Kokoro laughs awkwardly. "Have a nice day! Get home safe! "

This school experience truly can't get any more wild, huh?

Stockholm Syndrome.

That's what this has got to be, because as quickly as Weesa's clung to him, he's disappeared in moments for the rest of the day. It's crazy how he had gotten used to Weesa's shitty flirting and constant pestering in only an hour. And now he was gone. vanished into thin air.

Even Jimmy didn't know where he went, which is the most surprising thing since they're practically non-blood brothers.

Whatever, what does it matter to him?
He's not Weesa's girlfriend or lover. 

Honestly, Kokoro should’ve gone home by now. His bag was already slung over his shoulder, his phone buzzed with a message from his older sister reminding him about dinner. He ignored it. Home was a trash place to be anyways with their father there. Stared at the sky like it had answers.

Lingering outside the gym, He kicks gravel with the tip of his sneaker. Wind carries the scent of sweat and floor polish from the open doors. There's a faint echo of a basketball thudding against the hardwood floor pulsed through his chest like a second heartbeat.

Inside,
someone is inside.

And it's Weesa.
Still shooting free throws.

He was doing it seriously. Not like earlier, when he’d been laughing with Ryushin and Ren and getting yelled at by Jimmy to stop slacking. This was harder. Faster. Almost meditative. His jacket was tied around his waist now, hair damp and curling at his temples. He looked… calm. The most calm Kokoro had ever seen him.

He knew he should walk away. Go home. Forget the way Weesa had smiled at him, all teeth and heat and certainty and sunlight. Forget the feeling that had crept under his skin when he saw Weesa running plays ─ sweaty and glowing and alive.

Instead, he stepped back inside.

The door creaked. Weesa turned, not startled — never that — just mildly surprised.

“You came,” he says, but it comes out more as a question.

Kokoro shrugs. “You still had drills? ”

Weesa let the ball roll to a stop, spinning gently on the floor like it didn’t want to stop moving either. “They left over an hour ago.”

Kokoro glances away. “I know.”

Silence stretched between them like elastic ─ taut and humming. Weesa didn’t move. Kokoro didn't either.

Finally, Weesa sighs, walking to the bleachers and sat down, arms resting on his knees before looking up at him.

“You didn’t want to go home?”

Kokoro hesitates. “Not really.” He answers in a small voice.

Weesa nodded like that made perfect sense.

For a minute, they just sat there — Kokoro standing, Weesa perched beneath him like some war god at rest ─ like the Greek God Ares or the Roman God Mars ─ golden and too much. Kokoro has to squint when he steals glances of the other boy. 

“You know,” Weesa finally speaks up, his voice softer now, “when I told Coach you were helping… I wasn’t lying.”

“You were lying.”

“No,” Weesa denies, tilting his head. “I said you’d be great at organizing drills. That’s true. You’ve got the best spatial memory in debate club. You’re a freak about timing. You literally fix Ren’s sets in practice with nothing but a look.”

Kokoro opens his mouth, but no protest came. No words either.

Weesa leans forward slightly. “Also, I think you care more than you pretend to.”

“About you?” Kokoro asks dryly.

“Yes,” Weesa answers, with a cunning grin that could split mountains with his canine teeth. “Obviously.”

Kokoro rolls his eyes, but his heart beats against his ribcage, almost threatening to break free.

“Do you always drag people into your orbit like this?” he mutters, almost bitter sounding.

“Only the ones who pretend not to care.”

Kokoro sat down on the lowest bleacher, still two feet above him. Close enough to see the scar on Weesa’s eyebrow  — old, faint, like a childhood accident — and the smudge of sweat on his collarbone. He smells like mint gum and gym dust.

“You’re ridiculous,” Kokoro scoffs.

“You already said that,” Weesa replies, amused.

“It needs repeating.”

They were quiet again. Not awkward, just charged. Kokoro could feel it pressing against the air between them ─ this heavy, humming thing they never named.

“Why me?” Kokoro's voice almost sounds close to shaky. “You’ve got fangirls. You’ve got a team. You don’t need me. ”

Weesa looked at him then — really looked. Not the usual cocky glance, not a smirk or a wink. Something steadier. Something that made Kokoro want to look away.

"So do you. " Weesa points out, before admitting. “I want you,”

Kokoro stares. “That’s not an answer.”

Weesa just smiles, looking down to his lap. “It’s the only one I’ve got.”

Kokoro hated how warm his ears felt.
Restless all of a sudden, He stood and walked to the edge of the court, arms crossed. He could feel Weesa’s gaze on his back like sunlight on bare skin. Burning. He didn’t know what he was doing. Didn’t know what he wanted.

Except..
He did want something. That was the problem.

He wanted this stupid team drama to stop. He wanted Weesa to stop inserting himself into his life like it was his right. He wanted to stop thinking about him when he was trying to sleep.

He wanted Weesa to keep doing it.

“Kokoro,” came the voice behind him.

He turned.

Weesa was standing now, close. Too close.

Kokoro’s breath caught. “Don’t─”

Weesa didn’t touch him. Just looked.

“I’m not trying to play around with you,” he laughs quietly. “I joke. I push. I know. But I’m serious about being friends with you, y’know? "

Kokoro hated how much he wanted to believe that.

He swallows. “Then stop ambushing me in hallways.”

“No,” Weesa firmly states. “I like when you get like that, all blushed and mushy.”

Kokoro glares. “I’m not mushy.”

“You’re pink.”

This time, Kokoro full on shoves him.

Weesa stumbles back with a laugh, catching himself easily. “You’re strong for a debate and dance kid.”

“I’m not a kid, You're the kid. ” Kokoro snaps, frustrated. Embarrassed. Wanting something impossible.

Weesa sobered up. “I know.”

There was a pause.
Heavy. Long.

Then, gently, too gently, Weesa asks, “Can I show you something?”

Kokoro hesitates. “…Fine.”

Weesa walked to the supply closet at the edge of the gym. Pulled out a stack of folded shirts, a clipboard, a whistle.

“Manager kit,” he holds it out.

Kokoro raises a brow. “You’re assuming a lot.”

“I’m offering,” Weesa corrects. “You can throw it back at me or burn it if you want.”

Kokoro stares at the kit.
At Weesa.
At the space between them.

Then, quietly, he mumbles. “Why do you keep pushing?”

“Because when you look at me, it feels like it means something. Like I should do something, y’know? ”

Kokoro didn’t say anything.

He didn’t take the kit.

But he didn’t leave, either.

Instead, he stepped forward ─ one, two paces ─ until they were inches apart.
Then, very carefully, he reaches up, took the clipboard, and turned away. Weesa watchea his back as he walked back toward the bleachers, eyes bright.

“…Don’t make me regret this.” He warns.

Weesa smiles. "Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And the moment Kokoro looks back,
it's as if the sun's beaming at him.