Chapter Text
Mikoto made it a habit to promise things to himself before the start of each school year— an academic resolution, one could say. Past years, he’s always written something along the lines of I’ll never push deadlines! or I’ll study until my fingernails bleed! This year, he simply decides, I want to be popular, but not to the point of everyone knowing me. Although he’d made quite a lot of friends throughout high school, it finally dawned on him that summer that perhaps giving everyone nicknames wasn’t actually enough for someone to consider him more than an acquaintance, so he set the due date for a new strategy. Socializing! It came pretty easy to him, and he happened to pick the perfect strand in relation to his mission.
Humanities and Social Sciences.
The difference between senior and junior high school was that his classmates wouldn’t be randomized, and instead he’d be sectioned with people who have the same track as him, so that was already something everyone had in common. Though as the quarters went on, he quickly realized the second thing everyone shared was that they could not keep their mouths shut.
Not in the talkative sense, he could handle that any day. In the sense that intrapersonal drama arose basically any day he wasn’t expecting it. There was never a dull morning in this class, there was always something to talk about. A research group fighting, a new group of friends breaking up, an old couple breaking up, and everyone would just know. For a group of people who study experiences, their own lives were something to write a full paper on. Mikoto tried his best not to overshare or get himself involved but…
With a resounding sigh, he shuts the door to the office of student affairs, before glancing at the massive digital clock placed overhead. His eyes widen suddenly, realizing it was already 12:20PM, and he hurriedly scurries his little legs over to the cafeteria before he wastes any more minutes of their one and only, oh so fleeting lunch period.
As if a direct jab at his pitiful wish, Mikoto found himself becoming popular enough to be the one who had to deal with a massive chunk of it. Interrogations with school administration (who were obligated to investigate any sort of harmful threat or insult that concerned any of their students, as long as someone complained) became so common he was almost certain they all knew his name by now, along with phrases such as “I don’t know!”, “I don’t remember!”, “I don’t even know who that is!”, and “Who are we talking about again?” (he was genuinely confused, but nobody ever believed him).
In actuality, he never did anything. He was a good kid, but he was part of way too many deleted group chats that succumbed to high school drama, and shamefully stuck his nose too deep into way too many trashy rumors that he was often called in to be asked what happened. He could deny it all he wanted, but he was definitely The Popular Kid. He attests, with confidence, that it’s 100% not as cool as it sounded to him a few months ago.
"It's so cold in there....!" he complains to no one in particular.
"Poor Mikoto-kun." Mahiru laughs.
"Really, I'm not even that close with her! Why not interrogate the guys who were actually involved instead of little ol’ me...?!"
Kotoko looks up from her lunch. "School can't ask them anything unless someone is backing up the claims. Everyone knows the rumors, but you're always at the scene of the crime."
“Koto-chan, I think you should keep eating your barbecue."
"Just stating the facts. You'd be called to the office a lot less if you weren't so hellbent on being social with everyone."
People would like you a lot more if you weren't such a...! Mikoto doesn’t even finish that thought.
"Ooh, can I try your protein shake?" Mahiru asks the other girl. Kotoko reluctantly hands it to her, not even bothering to watch how much she’s actually drinking after a few bad run-ins with Muu and Yuno. Mahiru reacts about the same as them, her face bearing a regretful grimace as she pulls away from the straw like she hadn’t just practically drained Kotoko’s flask dry.
"I wish the rumors were more interesting, though…” Mikoto watches her go in for another sip, thinking she must be possessed by the godawful thing. “Imagine if people started saying I was a manipulative and abusive girlfriend! I'd be cast out for life!" The girl is Shiina Mahiru, perhaps more enthusiastic about love than even Cupid himself. She’s possibly the exact opposite of Mikoto— her selfless desire to help others with affection often sweeping her in the way of another person’s problem hurricane… and she didn’t mind. She’s younger, but he definitely admires her for finding joy in that sort of hobby— where she’s made to listen to people complain and drama she has no part in. Why does she give such great relationship advice anyway? Of course, it’s because she’s already hitched herself. Everyone knew, and such a healthy pair they were. Yoru, if Mikoto recalls his name. If word suddenly got out that she was — he almost chuckles to himself at the mere thought — making her boyfriend live in caves or something? He’d say it’s ridiculous. He imagines some kind of fairytale storyline where the girl is a princess in a cage poised like a tower, forcibly betrothed to a rich man, so she and her lover flee to the forest to start anew.
Obviously, when she suggests something like that, he wants to double down with something even more ridiculous.
"And! Haru-kun is secretly twenty-three years old!" It earns a laugh from the blonde and a clearly annoyed roll of Kotoko’s eyes. It only spurs him on further. “Not in a predator way… hopefully? I don’t really know where I was going with that one… er... Mappi, more ideas!”
"Ooh! What if people started saying that Kirisaki-sensei dissected people..." Now she was moving on to teachers, it seemed. He could get behind that. At least he probably wouldn’t be involved in their drama.
“Like an organ harvester?” Kotoko asks.
“Yeah!”
“You’re still salty about failing that practical exam, huh?”
“Gh! I still see frogs in my dreams sometimes! Why couldn’t we have dissected rats instead?!” Mahiru pulls lightly at her own hair. He never quite understood that girl’s deal with rats. Of course, she might simply think they're cute, but it didn’t explain how she talked about them like she ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner… Not that Mikoto thinks that she’s ever done that, anywho.
"How many victims would he have?"
"Three..." Mahiru trails off, Mikoto continuing after her. "Hundred…” There is a long pause until she shouts suddenly, a figurative lightbulb seemingly appearing above her head, "And one! Three-hundred and one!” Then, another one goes off. She gasps, “Mikoto, abusive boyfriend rumors would really suit you too!"
"You think so?" he chuckles.
"Yeah, it’s got star potential! Kayano Mikoto, obsessive and possessive!"
"Eww-uh!”
Kotoko chimes in. "He’s an abusive yandere too.”
"Oh my god- hahahaHA..!!" Tears prick her eyes as she promptly loses it.
The thought of a dark, evil, fucked up Mikoto (that he’s sure could never exist) is apparently enough to send the whole table cackling hysterically. Even Kotoko, who hadn’t said much until then, momentarily forgot about her lunch and choked a bit on her shake, spilling tiny droplets of the horrid concoction onto her lap. They all probably don’t notice, too caught up in their own Roblox myths.
"Yeah! And- and..!" Mikoto can barely speak, his stomach beginning to seriously hurt. "... I'm dating Fuuta!"
The idle sound of chatter from the surrounding tables are lost to them beneath laughter and Mikoto repeatedly smacking his fist into his chair, until a voice way too close and way too familiar brings itself near the three, and perhaps their blood all runs cold at the same time.
"I heard my name.”
They pause, looking up at who just came next to them.
Speak of Kajiyama Fuuta and he doth appear, with another hand clutched tightly in his own, belonging to his boyfriend. Kirikabu Suzu is his name, otherwise known as Rumerie, although Fuuta is the only one who calls him that. Certainly not the best person Mikoto’s ever met, but he was the worst person he could have seen at this moment. Shoot. How much of that did he hear?
"Ah, Fuuta! Uh... Zu-kun. You know, I think it's so nice that you two are finding time to get lunch together when you both are so busy!" (... so busy not talking when your boyfriend does something that makes you mad!) he doesn’t say that last part. He sweats, the other two nodding silently beside him. He knows it would be selfish of him to expect the girls to chime in here, but the way they avoided eye contact with him made it seem like they wanted to make everyone think they didn’t even know Mikoto at all.
"What were you guys talking about?" Suzu asks, raising his eyebrow.
"Why, nothing, nothing! Just joking around! Heh. Heh..."
Fuuta frowns, squeezing his partner’s hand a little tighter. He notices where Mikoto's eyes look, right beside him, and he seems to get the sense why he couldn't just answer that question.
"You got money for Pop Tarts? I forgot my wallet in the classroom."
Mikoto haphazardly throws some spare change from his pocket onto the table, glad that Fuuta understood a social cue for once. "Here you go."
“Thanks. We’ll talk later.”
He nods, watching the pair walk away while Fuuta shoves the loose coins into his pocket. He almost feels guilty making a joke like that, knowing Fuuta had a boyfriend, but would he actually take offense to it? It’s not like they were complete strangers, after all. That kind of thing was normal to do with your friends— telling people you were dating, getting way too close to each other, smacking each other’s asses... all were fair game as far as friendship went, although he’s only ever touched Fuuta’s butt in his dreams. Still, that was insensitive of him. He should probably apologize once they meet again. Yeah, he’ll say sorry, and forget this ever happened—
“Well. Not only is your boyfriend getting abused, he’s also broke.” Kotoko mumbles under her breath, and all the laughter they were stifling instantly goes to waste.
“Shut up! He can probably still hear us…!” Mahiru whispers, ironically louder than Kotoko despite being the one telling her to be quiet.
And just as ironic— a single offhanded comment began the journey of someone who supposedly hates gossip and rumors spreading rumors about himself. On accident and on purpose.
“Fuuta! Wait up!”
The redhead stops in his tracks to see Mikoto running and calling after him. As he quickly catches up, Fuuta sighs and begins digging in his pocket, presenting a few hundred yen. The older boy tilts his head in confusion.
“The money I owe you.” he says, very matter-of-factly, then Mikoto’s eyes grow slightly wider at the realization that his friend actually wasn’t planning on cutting all ties with him after he made the mistake of blurting out whatever that was the other day.
“Oh, no, no! Keep it, that’s not what I was chasing you for.” He pushes the spare change closer to Fuuta, as if the redhead wasn’t worlds richer than him. “You see, remember that thing I said… that one time… during lunch?”
“Oh, that?”
“Yesss! So, I just wanted to clarify that I was talking about Zu-kun there, and I’m sorry if you might have thought I meant something else-”
“Dude, I heard the whole thing.”
A loud BANG! resounds throughout the courtyard. An unripe mango rolls off of the roof and next to their feet. Fuuta kicks the fruit lightly as he’s reminded that summer is finally within their sights, while Mikoto imagines the sound is a MAC-10 shooting five-thousand, six-hundred and fifty-nine bullets into his head simultaneously.
“You… did?”
“Yeah?” Fuuta looks even more confused, as if he couldn’t understand why Mikoto was distressed in the first place. He just clicks his tongue, watches another mango roll down the school roof, and puts the coins back in his jacket pocket. “Look, we’re guys, dude. We make up stupid shit about people we know all the time. Like, oh, ‘what if Mukuhara-sensei is actually gay?’ or ‘what if that brat Amane has the same disorder as you?’ it’s just that kind of thing no one really takes seriously. Trust me, I couldn’t care less.”
Although he has no clue what Fuuta means by that second one, a wave of relief washes over him through his still present guilt. “You promise?”
“... Yeah?”
Fuuta blinks up at him, waiting for him to do anything else but stand there in apprehension. They finally start to walk towards the school entrance, filing through the many other students passing by. —I should have known something was up when Fuuta was able to read a social cue…
“... Did you… at least think it was funny?” It’s shameless, but he needed to know.
“Why would I think a scenario where I’m getting abused by you is funny?” He guesses that’s what he gets for asking, but it’s still embarrassing. Almost as embarrassing as Hazel-E rapping in front of a framed picture of Dorothy Dandridge.
“... Did you at least like the other ones I said?”
“Your ones didn’t make any sense. Plus, you had to clarify that you didn’t mean the Haruka one in a predator way, that’s the kind of shit you’re supposed to say at the start of the year, Mikoto.”
“But it’s just that right amount of believable, right? It’s so ridiculous that you can’t help but want to see if it’s true or not because it’s so crazy, right?” Mikoto captures both of Fuuta’s hands, stopping him in the middle of the hallway. The younger groans, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed to let this go.
“Well, Haruka is a junior so I don’t think anyone would care too much. He’s a little too pitiful that spreading rumors about him would just feel mean in my opinion-”
“No, I mean about the me abusing you thing!”
Sometimes, it felt like Mikoto was someone beyond shame, while Fuuta couldn’t relate less. The latter tries not to pay any mind to the people walking by who were now staring at them, wondering why someone would loudly proclaim the abuse they commit at six-thirty in the morning on a random Tuesday.
“......... Sure, dude. I mean, it’s way too serious of a topic to hardly ever be talked about in public, but I could see at least a few people getting nosy.” he whispers, soft enough for only Mikoto to hear against his neck. Mikoto almost makes a subtle, off-handed comment about taking him out to dinner first before he decides to get that close to his face, but he bites his tongue. “If you hate this type of stuff so much, you should be quiet. You wouldn’t get interrogated all the damn time if you just acted normal.”
“You too? Koto-chan said the exact same thing.”
“Well, it’s probably a sign that it’s true.”
They continue to talk about petty gossip involving their friends and teachers, both none the wiser to the presence of a certain schoolmate of theirs with a head of strawberry blonde, who moves across from the pillar she was hidden behind and makes a quick escape up the stairs, her cellphone in hand.
“... And then they kicked me out for not wearing Greggy Green. They all called me Bluey Ooey Gooey Berry Fat Boy.”
“You two wanna know something crazy?” Muu grins, watching as her two friends, Haruka and Rei, curiously and cautiously look up from their respective meals.
“‘Something crazy’ from you just doesn’t sound right.”, comes Rei’s sarcastic reply, but then spoke Haruka, who practically listened to everything that came out of Muu’s mouth. Not in the sense that she bossed him around. He just listens to everything she says because whenever she’s not pointing out obvious things that are happening, the silence gets to him, and she quite enjoyed running her mouth, so when it came to enabling each other’s antics, they were inseparable. Much to the purple-haired girl’s dismay.
“Uhm… What is it?” he sheepishly states. Rei doesn’t know how she even considered this situation could turn out any different, the other girl’s eyes lighting up, and her posture fixed in the cafeteria chair like she’s about to deliver a villainous speech. Which actually isn’t too far off from what she does.
“You talk with Fuuta-san once in a while, yes?” Haruka responds in a nod. “So… don’t tell anyone, but Muu overheard him and Kayano Mikoto talking about how he's abusing him.”
The other two dropped their jaws, uncomfortable silence taking over their side of the table. It wasn’t unusual for Muu to talk trash and somehow have as many social connections in school as the aforementioned Fuuta did on the Internet, but this was downright concerning. What did she mean, abuse?
“What??? Who abused who???”
Muu chuckles lightly at the alarmed Rei, adding even more to their confusion. “Mikoto. Abusing Fuuta.”
“Muu, they’re both- seniors. How do you even know about this??”
“Rei-chan, you’re not using your listening ears…!” she gestures on both sides of her head for emphasis. “Muu just said that she overheard it. Many other people were around that could attest to her.”
“But… if that’s true… is Fuuta-san gonna be okay? What if he gets hurt from all the abuse…?”
“Don’t worry, Haruka-kun! Muu thinks the ‘abuse’ they’re talking about isn’t actually serious, but rather something they agreed on, because look at this-” she scrambles to pull out her phone, opening her camera roll on its most recent entry. “They started kissing.” she proudly states, feeling even more prideful as she watches her friends obviously lean in closer to get a better look at her supposed ‘evidence’. “Muu took a picture because she knew you doubting Thomas’ wouldn’t believe her.”
In fact, they didn’t want to believe her, but even if the picture was taken from an angle (which it was), the figures were unmistakably Fuuta and Mikoto, and it certainly did look like they were kissing. The part about abuse was definitely odd, but it was just that right amount of believable. I guess Mikoto-san always did seem a bit weird, Rei and Haruka thought amongst themselves. The possibility of this whole narrative being the work of their friend blowing things out of proportion still loomed, but internally, they couldn’t help but want to see whether or not it was true. It was just so unfathomable. Too crazy for anyone to make up that accepting Mikoto as an abusive boyfriend felt akin to accepting the sky as blue.
Although, there is one gigantic elephant in the room.
“Doesn’t… Fuuta-san… already have a boyfriend?”
They both look expectantly at Muu.
“If he’s cheating, honestly good for him. Suzu is like…” she scoffs. “Muu doesn’t know! He asked Fuuta out in the middle of the school courtyard when they were in like, first quarter grade seven. It’s just kinda gross, yeah?”
“And what’s wrong with that?” Rei asks.
“Grade seven is when they first met.”
“Ah…”
To everyone the young couple knew, no one saw it as a matter of who was right and wrong whenever they had problems (which was never, haha). It was more so the fact they simply didn’t belong together, and while apparently their mutual unwillingness to put in an effort wasn’t sending the message clear enough—
“Fuuta-san always complains about h-him too… especially on Twitter. Then they ignore each other instead of talking.”
—for sweet Haruka, to actually seem somewhat frustrated (?) by the constant drama, is a clearer message even possible?
“Wow. Haruka-kun’s… talking about someone behind their back. He’s so bad.” Muu teases, the boy’s expression instantly reverting back to worry. “O-Oh, I didn’t mean-”
“It’s not an insult.” Rei lets out a long sigh. She’s never properly spoken with either Kajiyama nor Kirikabu, so she wasn’t trying to needlessly get herself involved in this mess. If only a certain pudding head shared her sentiments.
Haruka pouts. “... But I still really hope they at least spend some more time away from each other.”
“So you’d prefer if poor Fuuta was getting abused?!!”
“I-I didn’t say thaaat…”
“Just kidding!” Muu worries that if she hadn’t spoken quickly enough, the poor boy would have already collapsed on the ground due to a heart attack. “Anyway, Muu’s good at keeping secrets, so what’s important is that Haruka-kun doesn’t tell anyone either!”
Haruka swears profusely that his lips are sealed, while Rei sort of goes back to eating her lunch as she wonders what has become of their school. But no matter the precautions one could take, a rumor is a particle of dust that slowly collects in the crook of a closed space. It’s dirty and unsightly, but left alone when it’s still small. The only moment it cannot be ignored is when it has already morphed into a cloud, and once it has mingled with the wind, it finds itself everywhere.
Weeks pass, and Mikoto has practically forgotten about the jokes he made about himself. Needless to say, Fuuta’s ‘abusive’ relationship was going great, while his actual relationship was tumbling further and further downhill. It came to a point where they had blocked each other (blocked each other!) while still refusing to break up. Suzu had started to reach out to Mikoto whenever he wanted to talk to his own boyfriend. —Why should I have to be his carrier pigeon? He felt himself slowly developing Stockholm Syndrome for the shiver of the administration’s office.
Mikoto’s phone buzzes with a new text from Suzu. He takes a deep breath, not wanting to waste any more painfully fake polite words dealing with a relationship that should have ended ages ago.
Received Message: Is fuuta mentioning any problems he has to you guys
That are about me
Sent Message: He's not being too clear honestly
Just clear that he's angry
Received Message: He isnt communicating with me
He isnt discussing with me
Received Message: Youve seen them right?? His twitter and his chats in your gc
He doesnt talk about those things with me
Those problems probably would have been settled a lot sooner if they just tried unblocking each other, but that’s just Mikoto’s opinion. It was twelve o’ clock on a Saturday. The people-pleasing overachiever hasn't eaten or even left his bed yet. After he was done with Suzu, he was even thinking about going back to sleep for a few extra hours, but then another string of messages appear on his screen, and all tiredness he had felt previously suddenly melts away with the dreadful realization of what he’s reading.
Received Message: Kayano-san
You are one of the only people i will tell that i might end my relationship with fuuta
Dont tell anyone that
Twelve o’ clock on a Saturday, and he was completely sober.
What is he even supposed to say in response? That’s great? Hope it goes well?? He’s spent the last four years of his high school life without interacting with this guy more than five times. How was he supposed to react when the very same guy starts trusting him with information he apparently hadn’t told to many others about his boyfriend that he’s been arguing with on and off for months? Obviously, he saw it coming from miles away, but for it to turn out like this...? Over text?
His thumbs hesitate over his keyboard, eventually typing out,
Sent Message: Oh dear
As nonchalant as it may look, he probably would have turned on caps lock if it wasn’t for Suzu being dead serious.
Received Message: Let me be the one to end it
You see why right?
Sent Message: Of course I understand
You two have a lot of problems neither of you are willing to discuss
Emotionally impulsive, doesnt help himself
I think he has some kind of social anxiety
Thank you for being a person who understands
Just clearly speak your mind about why you think it’s not working out
Mikoto stares at his phone a few seconds longer, before turning on his side and closing his eyes again in total resignation. That was enough of that.
Bzzt!
Notification Center
🌳 : Did he really say that im the one starting the problems????
Luckily for him, he would soon be freed from his messenger days.
“Was it ever even love?” Mikoto reads aloud. “Jeez, Fuuta.” Mahiru had told him the things he was posting on Twitter recently were bad, but this was unimaginably lame. For someone who spent all day on the Internet, he sure didn’t know how uncool posting about his gay breakup made him look, especially when his hundreds of followers were commenting, asking him what happened, and he just ignored every single one.
“He changed his Discord status too.” Kotoko gestures towards her phone, where it displays Fuuta’s profile, and next to it, a graphic that represents a grey thought bubble simply says, ‘Rumerie sucks’. Mikoto would personally grade that an A Plus. Brevity is the soul of wit. Mahiru brings out her own phone as well to open the Messenger app, “And look-!”
“Can you guys not make fun of me while I’m sitting right here?”
They all turn to Fuuta on the other side of the table, crossing his arms and looking scornfully as they slowly put down their phones. Mahiru had felt bad about what happened a few days prior, so she invited the newly-single to sit with them during lunch. Apparently, none of them could help themselves. “Sorry.” Mikoto mumbles sheepishly, before trying for a different approach. “Well, are you okay?”
He still seems sour from the earlier teasing, but he decides he doesn't want to blame two guys for his anger this week. “Every day since it ended, I’ve just been seeing reasons why we should have never started.” He groans, his head folded deep in his arms and his voice muffled by the sleeve of his jacket. “Like, when we were still questioning our feelings and stuff, I kept seeing how he wasn’t my type at all. Like, not in the slightest, but I never said anything. I actually remember him asking about my type, and I had to change it almost completely so it could fit him.”
Someday, I want to be able to look from my home here in the city and see the sky without pollution. This tiny hope Mikoto holds in his heart was the sight of Fuuta’s vulnerability. Unreal when he had already forgotten the taste of clean air or the sound of a kind word from his foul mouth, yet so possible that he wants it to happen anyway because it could come true on any day he still lived and remember the world has no end. He wants to hope that the sooner he understands his polluted sky, the sooner he could understand Fuuta— his unusual solemnity; his fear of being weak.
“I didn’t want to rant like this. Just #LetItBeKnown that I knew it was a mistake, but I also knew it would be awkward to end it for obvious reasons, which is an insight he could never have.”
Mahiru’s right hand is placed over her heart, while the other reaches to hover over Fuuta’s. “It’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all…”
“Stay strong, Fuuta.” Mikoto smiles.
“I’m glad you’re over.”
The other two glare at Kotoko for her remark, but Fuuta surprisingly laughs in return, thankful. “Same. There was a #healing.”
Fuuta exists because he knows he is being seen, and that understanding held more comfort than anything else. Mikoto catches himself in the middle of wanting to give him a hug or a pat on the shoulder, but instead he slowly narrows his eyes to whisper beneath his breath, relishing how fire swirls in the scape of his clear eyes.
“... Can we see the break-up texts?”
He wants to instill in Fuuta actual motivation to ‘stay strong’ while they were still young, their chances for romance were bleak, and the sky still appeared somewhat blue. It was petty, and did he hate petty, but if laughing over a boy the same age as them saying something as amateurish as “I wanted to make you happy, but you made me unhappy” in an attempt to sound dramatic was all it took to make Fuuta smile a little and momentarily forget about all the angry things he’s said, then it's worth it.
Bzzt! Mikoto’s phone buzzes late at night with a new text from… Fuuta.
Thankfully.
Received Message: You know that party Mahiru's having for VDay?
Sent Message: Mhm!!
Sent Message: Are you able to make it? :0
Received Message: Yeah I'll go
Sent Message: Huzzah!!!
Sent Message: No niche meme community left behind!!!
Received Message: Wanna come as my abusive boyfriend?
He nearly chokes. What was this?? It’s already been more than just a few months since the break up, why should he feel the need to…
Received Message: I'm 100% over R*merie dw
I just thought it’d be kinda funny since Yuno’s coming and this’ll be your first time properly meeting her
She hasn’t seen me in a while and she’s not in on the joke if ykwim
She knows he and I are over but that's about it
Sent Message: You want me to gaslight her into thinking we’re dating???
Sent Message: She seems sweet!!! You should know that first impressions matter the most, Fuuta!
Sorry
Despite his words, he seems vastly unapologetic.
Sent Message: Fine… I’ll go along with it lol
Received Message: It’s not like I was trying to force you
“It’s not like I was trying to force you or anything, baka!” Mikoto laughs at his own joke like a loser. Maybe they should add tsundere Fuuta to the Roblox myth lore, it would surely complement the one about him being a yandere, since he’s intending on making that one a reality.
Sent Message: Sureeee hahaha
We should match
Received Message: Match?
But you don't play video games
No, I mean match outfits
Couple’s costume（‾◡◝ ）
://
How will we epic do that my closet is boring as shart
Don't worry
I’ll help ♡
That outfit you had on last week looked pretty cute anyway ˆᗜˆ
://
That jacket might’ve been my only cool thing
Hmm
We could match colors?
#TwinksAboutIt 🤔🤔🤔
Perchance
Wait let’s talk some other time
Papa want me to go go sleep
#CantEvenGoGoSquirt ://
Okayy
Ttyl ヾ(＾∇＾)
Fuuta finally shuts off his phone for what feels like the first time in hours. The room falls quiet as he collapses onto his pillow. On his screen buzzes two more notifications, a text Mikoto sends to him privately as a note for their plans, then another one signifying he’s pinned it to ensure Fuuta doesn’t forget. “All I wanted was to prank Yuno…” That unconvincing denial is what leads him back to his true intentions, the blood rushing to his face as he continues talking to himself like a personal battle against his own ulterior motives. “It’s too early for me to fall in love again.”
From his phone that he cast aside on his bedside table, the screen doesn’t stop lighting up.
“This is #abuse.”