" - and don't start any fights, okay? You're not a kid anymore, colleges take that sort of thing seriously."

Chuuya winces, wishing his father wasn't so loud. He really doesn’t want to be known as the 'kid who started fights', especially when he doesn’t know anyone at Keio University yet. He doesn’t want to start with a bad reputation.

But, given that his father is on speaker phone (because Chuuya only has two hands, and they're currently very busy holding one of his moving boxes), and there are two other people in the hallway, now staring at him oddly - it might be too little too late.

Chuuya pushes the stairwell door open with his hip, rolling his eyes. "I won't, Dad."

For the record - Chuuya didn't start fights. He finished them. Everyone who ever got in a fight with him deserved it or provoked him in some way.

His footsteps echo loudly in the stairwell, partially drowning out his father's voice as he continues. "Make sure to study hard and often! Studies show that cramming never works, you know. And do your assignments as soon as you get them, because it always seems like you have all this time but before you know it, you've missed a few assignments and then they're piling up - ."

Sensing that Rimbaud is working himself into a tirade, Chuuya cuts in. "I will, Dad. I know how to manage my time."

There's a long silence that says exactly what Rimbaud thinks of that statement, but thankfully he lets it go.

Well, let's go in favor of a different lecture, at least. Chuuya is grateful that Rimbaud had important meetings at work that he couldn't miss, and couldn't come with Chuuya on move-in day. If he had, he'd probably be making a giant fuss and embarrassing him in front of everyone. He'd forever be known as the guy whose dad had a tearful emotional breakdown in front of the school, and Chuuya does not want that. He’d rather be known as the kid who got into fights.

Not that he doesn't appreciate how much his Dad loves him and shows him so every day. It's just...overbearing.

Mostly because he doesn't treat his older sisters with the same amount of hovering protectiveness. Chuuya gets it - he's the baby, the only boy, and his childhood wasn't easy - but it's still a bit annoying, and a little unfair.

"When you get to your dorm, make sure you unpack before your first day! And make friends with your roommate, otherwise the year is going to suck - ."

Chuuya interrupts him again, managing to open the door to his floor with both of his hands occupied. His train had been delayed, so it's later in the afternoon than most of the other students arrived. The stairwell is empty other than him. "I know, Dad. I can take care of myself, you know?"

There's a muffled sound over the phone, and then his dad says in a very small, very thick voice, "I know, Chuuya."

Damn, now he feels bad.

He sighs, checking the room numbers as he goes. He's in room A5158 this year, and he's been lucky enough that his scholarship was enough to pay for a two-person dorm. Way better than being in the three-person ones. "Stop worrying so much. I'll be fine, I promise. Kouyou and Kyouka are fine, and you weren't so fussy with them."

Rimbaud huffs. "Kyouka went to Tsubaka so she's still home for the weekends, and Kouyou doesn't let me hover."

That's true. Kouyou is a force of nature all her own, and if she thinks even for a second that Dad is trying to boss her around or make her do something that she doesn’t want to, then she will deliberately go out of her way to do whatever the hell she wants.

It's caused quite a few issues growing up. She's settled down since, now that she has a career, but there's quite a few stories in their hometown that start with "that red headed girl - "

Which made it really awkward for Chuuya growing up, to be associated with those kinds of stories. (Not that he proved them wrong with his own behavior, but semantics. Now, there’s a few stories that start with ‘that red headed boy - .’)

Besides, Chuuya is the last child to leave the nest, so it's understandable that his dad is experiencing some parental mourning and hovering to compensate.

It's just a little annoying.

He sighs, finally finding his assigned dorm. It's in the middle of the hall, and based on the light streaming from underneath the door, someone is already inside. "I have to go now, Dad. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"...Okay. Be good and promise you'll call if you need to? Whenever you need to. Even if you just miss me."

He stifles another sigh. Even if he's not a kid anymore, this is the first time he'll be away from his family for any length of time, so he appreciates the reassurance, a little. "I will, Dad, promise. Bye, love you."

Then he pins the box between him and the wall, freeing up a hand so he can end the call before his dad can find anything else to prolong the conversation with. That man can talk. It’s a wonder Chuuya learned to speak at all, with how much his family likes to hear themselves talk.

He takes a deep breath, preparing himself to meet his new roommate. He's never been shy or anxious, but there's quite a few people that don't like his loud, boisterous nature, and he doesn't want to sour his relationship with his roommate right off the bat. Besides, he doesn't know what kind of person he'll be meeting, so it's better to be prepared for anything.

He opens the door -

And promptly realizes that his 'loud, boisterous' nature is not going to be a problem, because half of the dorm room looks like a damn clown threw up all over it. Literally. Red, blues, greens, all colors of the rainbow smashed together on bed sheets, on book bags and knick-knacks, literally everything his dorm mate owns is brightly colored. There's no sense of rhyme or reason, only an abundance of color, like Chuuya is moving in with the circus. To his horror, there's even the faint sound of what might be circus music, playing tinnily from his roommate’s phone.

Just who is he going to be living with??

Said roommate is standing near the window on his tiptoes, pinning what looks to be a music poster of some Russian band. His braid, long and white, sways behind him as he moves, muttering to himself.

Chuuya clears his throat, shifting awkwardly in the doorway. "Uh, hi? I think I'm your dorm mate."

The guy yelps, sounding a bit too surprised than Chuuya thinks is necessary for his quiet greeting. He whips around, blue-grey eyes wide with shock. There's a vertical scar over his left one, still noticeable even though it's faded enough to be an old injury.

There's a tense moment as they size each other up, both of them unsure and shocked to see the other.

Wary, almost.

Then the guy's face splits into a slightly-manic grin as he bounces up on his toes, like an excited child. "Hi! I'm Nikolai Gogol!"

Chuuya lets out a breath, unaware that he'd been holding it. He moves further into the room, heading for the unoccupied bed. A few things have crossed the line into 'his' side of the room, but he's not that worried about it for now. He's left a lot of his stuff at home, anyways. "Hey, I'm Nakahara Chuuya. Just call me Chuuya."

"Okay! Did you need any help moving your stuff in? Do you have more boxes?"

That makes Chuuya feel a bit insecure, like he's some weirdo that doesn't own anything, but he manages to shrug it off. "Nope, this is it."

One medium sized box, and a big backpack stuffed with most of his clothes. That's all he brought with him, to live hours away from home. It’s all he had room to bring, because he was taking the train by himself because his dad couldn’t drive him. Another reason he regrets not learning to drive already.

Chuuya has never been quiet, but Nikolai seems to take on most of the conversation by himself anyways, chattering loudly as Chuuya unpacks most of his stuff.

He plugs in his laptop, letting it charge so he can finish registering for his classes later this afternoon. An email he received earlier told him he had to log into his university network sometime before classes started.

"So, are you from here, or are you new to Yokohama?"

Chuuya shoves his clothes into the dresser on his side of the dorm, promising himself to hang them up in the tiny closet later. "My parents live in Tsubaka. It's my first time living in Yokohama."

Well, that's not strictly true, but he's only been here before with his father on business trips or sightseeing, which doesn't come with knowledge that living here would bring. In a very real sense, he knows almost nothing about Yokohama, besides the stories he's been told. He’s basically a tourist.

"Oh! I've been here for a few weeks now. I got to move in early, since I came from Russia. I could show you around, if you'd like!" Nikolai sounds excited by the prospect, grin widening.

A foreign international student offering to show him around the city. It feels a little demeaning, and part of Chuuya's pride wants to say no, he'll figure it out himself -

Then he remembers that he's almost a foreign student himself, right now, and while his eccentric roommate probably wouldn't have been his first choice in friends, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to alienate him either and well -

Chuuya does need friends, because he doesn't have any here in Yokohama. All his friends from high school either went to Tsubaka University, because it was closer, or they went to Tokyo because it was more exciting. Some went to international colleges overseas.

He was the only one to choose Keio, and since his dad is so overprotective -

He doesn't know anyone in Yokohama. He's starting off a big piece of his life, something his future will build off of and that he's been looking forward to and working toward for years, and he's all alone.

It's exciting... and scary. Even Chuuya, who prides himself on being brave to the point of recklessness, is having a bit of anxiety.

Only a little bit though.

He nods, taking out a picture frame and placing it on his new dresser. He doesn't look at it for too long, because it makes him depressed but...

He likes seeing his mother, sometimes, as a reminder.

"Yeah, that would be cool, actually. I can read train maps, but it'd be easier if I knew where I was going." Not that Chuuya really needs to go many places other than campus, but it'd be nice. He hates getting lost.

Nikolai finally gets his poster tacked up with a triumphant noise. "Yeah! I'm actually going to meet up with some friends for dinner. You can come with, if you’d like."

What, now? After a long day of saying goodbye to his father, being on a cramped train and then lugging his bags all the way to campus? He's tired, dirty -

His stomach growls loudly at that exact moment, making Nikolai's lips twitch with amusement.

- and hungry. He hasn't eaten since breakfast this morning, and even that was a rushed affair.

Registration for classes can wait. He'll just finish that up once he gets back, and maybe get a head start on his readings for class. For now, dinner sounds perfect. "Great. Do I have time to wash up first?"

Because he does feel dirty from the train, and if he's going to meet new people, he wants to change into something better than a loose pair of jeans and his rattiest sneakers. First impressions matter.

Nikolai nods. He doesn't even look at his watch or phone though, so either he's really confident or he's not worried about showing up late.

Either way, Chuuya cleans up as quickly as he can. Luckily, there's signs which lead the way to the showers shared by the entire floor. Gross, and he already misses the shower at home, but it's better than some of the other dorms, which apparently share a shower among the whole building.

He does make a note to purchase some shower shoes, though. You never know what kind of nasty people he'll be sharing a shower with, and he’d rather not find out.

Leaving his hair to dry wild and curly, he pulls on dark jeans and a grey t-shirt. It's a little plainer than he'd normally choose, but his father convinced him to leave most of his "eccentric" clothes at home, because 'he wants to make a good impression, right?'.

The red jacket, though, is exactly on brand for him, bomber style with more than a few unnecessary zippers and dangling chains. Subtle enough to look over, if you weren't looking closely, but enough to make a statement.

By the time he arrives back at his room, Nikolai has changed into something brighter, his shirt a rainbow splash of colors. Now, Chuuya might otherwise take this as a hint or some other form of gay-communication, but combined with the balloon pants, one side striped and the other side a blank white -

He's pretty sure Nikolai is just channeling "Russian clown" energy.

"Ready?" Nikolai bounces up when he sees him, an excited grin on his face.

Chuuya blinks in surprise, because he honestly wasn't expecting such enthusiasm, especially from someone he just met. Usually he's the one with 'too much energy', so it's strange to be on the receiving end of that, for once.

It’s nice, though, to be so immediately welcomed. It soothes some part of him that he didn’t even realize was worried. “Yeah, I’m ready. Where are we going?”

Nikolai leads the way out of the door, barely giving Chuuya enough time to shove his wallet into his pockets. Nikolai locks the door behind them, making a noise as he does. “Oh, here’s your key.”

Chuuya takes the offered key from his fingertips, frowning. “I thought I had to see the office to get my copy?”

Nikolai grins at him, proud. “Usually, yes, but I know the office aide, so he let me take the extra, as long as I promised to give it to you later.”

Chuuya has no idea why he’d do that, but sure. At least he doesn’t have to make another trip to the office, then. He pockets the key, following a step behind Nikolai as he strides down the stairwell, completely skipping over the elevator.

They pass a pair of students on their way up, who Nikolai waves to enthusiastically, calling out a greeting.

Chuuya isn't shy or easily intimidated by any means, but he's starting to think his dorm mate knows everyone. He was semi-popular in high school himself, but not on this level.

Outside, the campus is rather empty, with only a handful of students making their way around the grounds. Most of them are carrying books or heavy-looking backpacks, clearly ready for classes to start.

He makes a mental note to purchase his books later.

Nikolai leads him to Tamachi train station, chattering the whole time. He barely lets Chuuya get a word in, which is fine because he's a bit busy memorizing the path to the station to make good conversation.

"I hope you like seafood, because that's what we'll be eating. I'd say we could change if you didn't like it, but Shuuji and Yuan have wanted seafood for ages and if they don't get it today, they'll be grumpy,” Nikolai says, trotting down the stairs into the station.

"No worries, I love seafood."

Nikolai beams, swiping his train card in the terminal. "Great! I already told them you were coming, so they'll be expecting us. They said they'll get us a table."

Just how many people will he be meeting today? He said ‘friends’ plural, but no other information, so he has no idea if he’s meeting two people or ten. Is it going to be a party?

The train is surprisingly crowded for this time of day, squishing them together near one of the doors. Chuuya wedges himself near the wall, finding himself a space away from the crowd. Nikolai, sticking out like a sore thumb at over 180cm, looks mildly uncomfortable from his spot in the crowd. There's a much shorter girl hanging onto his elbow instead of the too-tall handles above.

Chuuya gives a huffed breath, trying not to snicker. The benefits of being small are not many, but sometimes, not that Chuuya will ever admit it out loud, it works out in his favor.

Nikolai motions for him to get off at the second stop, mouthing something that is too low for Chuuya to hear past the bustle and roar of the train station.

The restaurant they're going to is only a few blocks away, and Chuuya spends that time growing increasingly nervous.

Most of the people he's met so far in life have had something in common with him. Schooling, through his Dad's friends, neighbors, friends of friends. There was always a common thread, something to relate to and tie them together.

But the only thing he has in common with the people he’s about to meet, is Nikolai, who he met a grand total of an hour ago. That’s the only thing he knows of, at least.

What if they don’t have anything in common? What if it’s awkward and he’s just the weird third-wheel that Nikolai dragged along with him?

What if it’s weird?

“There it is!” Nikolai says excitedly, pointing to a medium-sized building with a neon sign handing over declaring it as ‘HARU’s SEAFOOD AND SUSHI’.

Simple, straight to the point, cute.

There’s only a few people waiting outside, so thankfully they don’t get too many glares as Nikolai skips the line and marches into the restaurant with Chuuya on his heels.

Inside, it’s warm and smells delicious. It’s packed enough that some people have been left standing as they wait for their orders, talking with each other idly. The noise of a bustling restaurant fills the space entirely.

Chuuya stumbles when Nikolai grabs him by the arm, dragging him to the far side of the restaurant, to one of the tables near the back.

Three people are already seated: two boys and a girl. The girl is facing away from them, pink hair bobbing as she talks animatedly to the boy in front of her, who looks like he’s about to start arguing.

The other boy though...

He looks up as they approach, and Chuuya feels his brown-eyed gaze like a punch.

Chuuya has seen attractive people before, on TV and on social media. He’s known people that he would objectively label as attractive -

But none of them had golden-brown eyes and a small, crooked smile, watching him with interest as he comes closer.

Chuuya feels pinned, struggling to bring in breath under the weight of that gaze, stumbling over his own feet.

God, he can even feel his cheeks starting to heat up, and he’s making a fool of himself already. How is he supposed to stay cool for the entire dinner when it feels like brown eyes are looking directly into his soul?

Luckily, Nikolai saves the day - again - by waving and calling out, “Hey guys!”

The girl finally turns around, a welcoming smile on her face. She has to blow her bangs out of her eyes, revealing eyes that look more purple than blue. “If it isn’t our favorite clown.”

Nikolai beams, so clearly he doesn’t take that greeting as an insult, ushering Chuuya forward.

He slides into the booth in the middle, and yeah, he’d probably prefer being on the end, but he feels too flustered to refuse and Nikolai squishes in after him before he can change his mind.

“You must be Chuuya, right?” The girl says, dipping her head. “I’m Yuan.”

Chuuya tips his head with a small smile. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“That’s Shirase,” Yuan says, pointing across the table at the silver-haired boy she’d been speaking with earlier. He’s taken his phone out, and vaguely waves an acknowledgement at Chuuya between typing frantically.

“And that - "

The other boy, the brown-eyed one Chuuya can practically sense breathing, interrupts her with a good-natured glare. “I’m Shuuji.”

Shuuji. Even his name is cute.

Shuuji shakes his dark hair out of his face, offering Chuuya a blinding grin, all white teeth, that knocks him off-kilter again, scrambling to pick up his self-control before he mutters something stupid like ‘oh my god, you’re hot - '.

“Hey,” he says, trying to play it cool, even though he’s half-convinced the entire table can hear his heart pounding, “I’m Chuuya.”

“Chuuya,” Shuuji repeats, slowly, like he’s tasting his name on his tongue, and Chuuya’s face is on fire. “That’s a nice name. I like it.”

Chuuya has to forcibly look away from his lips. “Oh. Thanks. I - I like yours too.”

Stupid. Why is he turning into a stuttering, awkward mess now, when he needs to be smooth and suave? Why is he so tongue-tied when Shuuji hasn’t done anything more than introduce himself?

(Though he is still staring at Chuuya, gaze slowly sliding over his features and then further down, over his shoulders. His gaze feels like a brand, heavy and burning.

He’s got a small smirk on his face.)

“We ordered for you guys, hope that’s okay,” Yuan says suddenly, nearly startling Chuuya out of his seat.

Nikolai bobs his head, and Chuuya is starting to see why he chose the end seat, because he’s constantly fidgeting. Leg bouncing, fingers tapping at his knee, shifting in his seat. The man looks like sitting still is torture for him.

“We got a bit of everything, so you can just pick out whatever you want, Chuuya.”

Oh, sure, that sounds fine. He opens his mouth to respond, but Shuuji speaks up before he can.

“You guys are going to have to eat the crab though. Dad eats it all the time, it’s actually kind of gross. I’m getting sick of it.”

Shirase snorts, putting away his phone finally. He nudges Shuuji with his shoulder, teasing. “Don’t start another complaining session about your Dad.”

Shuuji flushes, clearly embarrassed, and his responding nudge is a little rougher than it needs to be. He does drop the subject though, turning back to Chuuya. “So - how did you meet Nikolai?”

Chuuya pulls his hands under the table, fiddling with the edge of his jacket to dispel some nervous energy. “We’re roommates, actually.”

Shuuji’s eyes light up. “Oh really? Guess I’ll be seeing a lot more of you then, huh?” He says, leering at him with a suggestive smirk.

Chuuya doesn’t notice, too busy beating himself up mentally, because he’s not usually like this. He’s not usually this shy, or anxious, or nervous. Yeah, it could be because he just moved on his own for the first time ever, or the fact that a cute boy is staring him down -

But he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want to be some shy, nervous boy, acting like the timid main character of a romance manga.

He’s always been headstrong and stubborn - Dad says it runs in the family, he got it from his mother - so why does he suddenly feel like all his bravery has deserted him?

Fake it ‘til you make it, Chuuya reminds himself.

Shoving the nerves away so he can deal with them later, he straightens in his seat, trying to replicate the feeling he gets when he’s so hyped up on adrenaline that it feels like nothing can touch him.

It works only for a moment, but it’s enough for him to look Shuuji in his eyes and say, “Maybe if you’re lucky.”

Golden-brown eyes flash, like Chuuya has become a lot more interesting than he was a moment ago, sending another thrill of excitement into Chuuya’s stomach.

Beside him, Yuan makes a soft noise of disgust. "Not in front of my food, boys."

Shirase opens his mouth to tell her that she doesn't have her food yet -

Just as that moment, the server, a harried looking brunet, sets down a few plates of food in front of them, as well as some extra plates. He lingers just long enough to pour water for the new arrivals, and hurries off when they say they don't want anything else to drink or eat.

Yuan stares at Shirase with a raised brow, daring him to say something, and looks incredibly smug when he shuts his mouth.

Nikolai digs right in, piling his plate with food and devouring it with a gusto that speaks of days of hunger.

Chuuya waits for the others to pick their favorites before selecting a few of his own pieces. He does take a few pieces of crab, since Shuuji said he didn’t want it. It's not his favorite - and he probably doesn't like it as much as Shuuji's father apparently does - but he's not going to complain about food, not when he's this hungry.

Yuan pops some rice into her mouth. "So - you go to Keio too?"

Chuuya nods, swallowing his mouthful. "Yep. Studying engineering, though Dad wants me to be a doctor."

Raising a piece of shrimp in a makeshift toast, Yuan says, "Yeah, me too. Here's to disappointing our parents once again."

Shirase raises his bowl in quick salute, though he doesn't stop devouring his food. Not to be judgmental, but with the dyed-silver hair, and the multiple piercings in his ears, he would probably be firmly placed in the "disappointment" category, at least as far as Chuuya's father is concerned.

Chuuya tried to pierce his own ears, once, with a safety pin and a chunk of ice. Luckily, his father walked in on him before he could actually do it - a blessing, because piercings like that tend to reject harshly - and proceeded to have an entire hour-long breakdown about how Chuuya was headed down the wrong path and one day he was gonna wake up to find his son's face plastered over the morning news for robbing the local convenience store.

(For the record, Chuuya has never stolen anything and has never felt the desire to do so, not that Rimbaud listened to that reasoning.)

Shuuji leans back in his seat, smug. He picks up a piece of fried mackerel, examining it closely as he gloats, “I'm studying business. I'll be taking over my dad's business, one day. Much better, and easier, than being a doctor."

Then he takes a bite out of the fish, chewing with a self-satisfied air.

Beside him, Nikolai sits back, rubbing his stomach absentmindedly. He's already polished off one plate, and judging by the way he's eyeing the plates spread over the table, he's about to make himself another one. "My parents are very proud of me, no matter what I study. They are impressed I made it into Keio."

Well, ain't that peachy for him, Chuuya silently grumbles, stabbing his rice. He tries not to be bitter about it, but sometimes it feels like all of his father’s hopes and dreams rest on his shoulders.

As the youngest, he's supposed to somehow be better than his siblings - both of whom are decently successful, with Kouyou running her own company and Kyouka well on her way to a fashion degree with a foot in the door at a fast-growing clothing company.

But neither of those are what Rimbaud wanted for them, and while he's happy that they have found a career that makes them happy -

He has...expectations. Expectations that are now piled on Chuuya's shoulders, because he's the youngest, he's the last chance Rimbaud has to have a doctor or a lawyer in the family.

Don't get him wrong, his dad loves him and wants him to be happy -

But sometimes the shoes Chuuya is supposed to fill feel like they were made for giants.

He enrolled at Keio because of those expectations, working his ass off ever since he was little to get every scholarship available to him - because as the third child of a single father that was barely middle class means he cannot afford this university outright - and while he does have ambition -

Sometimes, it makes him feel directionless and lost that he doesn’t really know where he’s going in life, especially when compared to someone who apparently already has a company ready to fall into their hands.

The next bite of rice tastes almost sour.

Yuan rolls her eyes, pointing her chopsticks at Shuuji almost threateningly. “Don’t rub it in. Not all of us are lucky enough to be next in line for the throne or whatever.”

Shuuji, who has been taking small, delicate bites, puts his nose in the air. “It’s not luck, sweetheart, it’s pure hard work. I’m not top of my class for nothing.”

“Yeah, at your prep school in Yokohama. Keio is competitive; how long can you keep that up?” Shirase snorts

Shuuji sets his chopsticks down with a little more force than necessary, turning a fierce glare on Shirase. The silver-haired teen doesn’t seem bothered in the least.  “I don’t want to hear that from someone who didn’t rank at all, and doesn’t go to Keio.”

Shirase shrugs again, and although his expression doesn’t change, his eyes seem very far away. “Like Yuan said: not all of us are lucky.”

...there’s definitely a story behind that that Chuuya is interested in hearing about.

He tries to dispel the weird tension building in the group by asking a question of his own. “So... did you all meet at Keio or?”

It’s Yuan who answers, after taking a long sip of her drink. “Oh no. I’ve been friends with Shirase since.... well, since forever. They,” she gestures to Shirase and Shuuji, “went to the same prep school, and have been friendly rivals ever since. And Nikolai met Shuuji - "

“At work! A few weeks ago, when I first moved here.” The white-haired boy says, cheerfully interrupting.

Chuuya blinks. Nikolai having a job makes some sense, because he’s a foreign student, which is never cheap, even if the exchange rate is good. Plus, Nikolai’s japanese is very good and conversational, so obviously he had to pick that up in a non-schooling situation...

But Shuuji? Even Chuuya, who can be considered ‘uneducated’ on these things, can tell his leather jacket and golden watch ooze money.

“It’s my favorite café. They have the most exquisite coffee. I would spend my entire fortune there,” Shuuji sighs, sounding blissful.

Well. That explains that.

Still, though, it’s a little awkward to be the new friend in a group that obviously already has a decent amount of history together. Especially when his only connection to them is that he happens to be Nikolai’s roommate. It makes him feel like he’s out of the loop, on the outside of all their inside jokes and shared stories.

He chews mechanically for the rest of the meal, and joins in on the conversation whenever he sees an opening.

When everyone is done, they stack the plates back up in a half-hearted show of cleanliness (though Shuuji does not clean up the rice he spilled on the table) before they head for the checkout.

Shuuji is kind enough to pay for the meal, handing over a shiny platinum AMEX card (something that Chuuya has only ever heard about in movies and books, and never thought he’d see in real life, let alone know someone who had one).

The restaurant has only gotten more packed as they ate, which means that Chuuya is shoved close to Shuuji’s back as he pushes his way through the crowd, fingers hooked in the back of the jacket. (He’s not sure if Yuan’s teasing eyebrow wiggle before she pushed him behind Shuuji makes him feel singled out or included.

He does his best to ignore how broad Shuuji’s shoulders seem to be and how warmth seems to pour off him in waves. He doesn’t think he succeeds, because his face feels like it’s on fire again.)

Outside, the temperature has dropped as the sun sets, making Chuuya shiver briefly. He wore his jacket the whole time inside, so the crisp air feels like it’s cutting right through the thin layer -

An arm drapes over his shoulders, pulling him into a blisteringly warm side. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you warm.”

Chuuya actually wasn’t worried at all, but it is nice to be pressed up against Shuuji like this, practically curled up against his side.

Yuan wiggles her eyebrows at him again, and this time he can’t help but stick his tongue out at her. She bursts into laughter, which makes Chuuya feel accomplished.

Maybe fitting in won’t be so hard after all.

“Thanks...Shuuji,” he mutters, tasting the name on his tongue. The dazzling grin he gets for that is enough to send him stumbling blind, but he manages to keep it together.

Shuuji leads them all to a parking garage, strolling casually up to a sleek, low car, something that reeks of luxury. He clicks the button of something in the pocket of his jacket, and the car starts up remotely with a purr.

Chuuya tries not to gape too obviously at the car, but Jesus, he can already tell that thing costs way more than his very expensive tuition.

With a sinking sense of shame and horror, he starts to realize that these people are way out of his league.

He never went without as a child - but his father was a single dad of three, and even though his salary wasn’t anything to scoff at, there was not a lot of extra money lying around. There were always school fines or sports club fees or new shoes to buy.

Hell, the most expensive thing Chuuya has ever owned were his braces when he was twelve.

And now, looking at these people who obviously have top-of-the-line everything (even Yuan, who is very nice and bubbly, has nails pristine enough that it doesn’t look like she’s so much as scratched her own ass) -

He feels like utter shit in his thrifted red jacket and cheap shoes.

Nikolai and Shirase climb into the back of the car without hesitation.  Chuuya hesitates outside, fighting off the odd sense that his poorness might infect the seats or something. Like he’s dirty.

There’s a brief altercation with Shuuji and Yuan, though Chuuya is not close enough to hear anything besides a final hissed “Fine! I’ll get in the back, because I’m a good wingwoman!”.

Then Shuuji is turning to him, and Chuuya has no choice but to smile, hoping like hell he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels.

“Front seat’s all yours, babe,” Shuuji says, winking at him as he opens the door.

Oh, great. At least he doesn’t have to be shoved in the small backseat between two of the others.

He slides in carefully, and the black leather of the seats is sleek and smooth under his hands, without so much as a speck of dirt. It's clearly been customized, because the middle of the dashboard is taken up by a large touchscreen. It's awake, frozen on a screen that demands a passcode.

The red interior lights are low, barely lighting up the inside of the car. He can barely feel the purr of the car underneath him, and the only reason he knows it's on is because the engine button is lit up.

This is probably the swankiest vehicle he's ever going to sit in, and he tries to drink in the experience as much as possible (while avoiding touching things, because his nails are ragged from moving, and it just looks wrong contrasted with the luxury).

The driver door opens and Shuuji climbs in with the confidence of someone much more used to luxury.

(Really though, what kind of college student needs a car in Japan? Doesn't he live in the dorms with everyone else? It's much more practical to take the train.)

For some reason, Shuuji doesn't touch the screen, choosing instead to start up some music on his phone as he backs out of the parking spot.

He's a bad driver compared to Chuuya's dad, swerving in the lanes as he joins in on the conversation or starts singing along with the song. Chuuya spends the entire drive plastered to his door, clutching onto the handle for dear life, because he swears he sees his life flash before his eyes at least twice.

Halfway through (by this time, he would've been back on campus if he'd taken the train, Chuuya notes with slight hysteria), the music cuts out.

Shuuji's phone is ringing. The name on the phone: DAZAI OSAMU (dad).

The backseat breaks out in a loud "Ooooooohhh, you're in trouble~" in near synchronization. Yuan cackles, leaning forward until her head is nearly in the front seat with them. "Does your dad know you have this car?"

He stole this car? From his rich dad? Who may or may not call the police on them for said stolen car?

For a brief, terrible moment, Chuuya envisions calling his dad from inside a jail cell and explaining how he got arrested on literally his first day away from home. He groans internally, running a hand through his hair. He's never going to be allowed outside without supervision again.

Shuuji rolls his eyes. "Of course he does. He went out of the country for a few days, and he said I could do whatever I wanted. He's probably just calling to let me know he got home safely."

Chuuya highly doubts that, considering he calls again immediately after Shuuji sends the first call to voicemail. That's basically code for an angry parental unit.

But Shuuji doesn't answer, and the cops don't appear out of nowhere to haul him away, so at least Chuuya will somehow survive the evening.

The energy is somewhat dimmed though, with the mention of parents, so the rest of the ride is filled with quiet phone-scrolling, or Nikolai filling the quiet with his seemingly-endless stream of chatter.

When the university campus finally rolls into view, Chuuya breathes a sigh of relief. He never thought he'd miss a bed he's never slept in, but here he is.

Shuuji parks (crookedly, with the rear end sticking out and begging to be hit by oncoming traffic) and steps out to let the trio in the back climb out onto the sidewalk.

Meanwhile, Chuuya is tugging at the door handle with increasing desperation, because it seems to be child-locked from the inside (for what fucking reason, he doesn't know) and he can't seem to find the lock, and he's starting to look like an idiot, too poor to even know how to open a damn car door by himself.

He's debating sliding across the seat to exit through the drivers door, because he's starting to feel frustrated and trapped -

Before he can, Shuuji drops back inside, shutting the door with a resounding thud.

The inside of the car seems oppressively silent now, and Chuuya slowly stops pulling at the handle. He doesn't want to seem like an idiot, not when Shuuji is staring at him, eyes nearly black in the darkness.

Then he reaches out, putting a hand on Chuuya's thigh. Not low either. No, his fingertips are inches away from his crotch, and Chuuya is caught between anxiety and excitement.

Yes, he might considered the idea of Shuuji touching him like this someday, and might even enjoy it under other circumstances -

But not when he just met him, not when he has nowhere else to go, not when he feels pinned between him and closed car door that he can't get open -

Shuuji smiles at him, like he has him right where he wants him. "Let me have your phone number."

Oh.

Well, he wasn't expecting that, and certainly not for it to happen like this but he's not opposed to it.

"Sure. Do you have a pen?" He asks, figuring he's going to write down his number on his palm like every teen romance movie out there.

Instead, a phone, already opened to the contacts page, is shoved underneath his nose insistently.

Chuuya takes it, entering in his phone number under the hawk-like gaze of Shuuji. He even inputs his name, double-checking to make sure the number is correct before handing back the phone.

"There," he says quietly, "now could you help me - "

Shuuji cuts him off. "I'm going to call you, make sure you didn't accidentally give me the wrong number."

He says accidentally, but the way he's staring him down with hard eyes as he raises his phone to his ear makes it seem like he doesn't believe it would be an accident.

Why wouldn't he give him the right number? Why does he feel so cornered by him?

When his phone doesn't immediately ring, Chuuya starts to panic, because he swears he gave Shuuji the right number, and why is he starting to look so irritated?

It would just be a mistake, so why does it seem so personal?

...What would happen if Chuuya did give him the wrong number, by accident or otherwise?

Then, finally, miraculously, the call goes through and his phone rings.

Sighing in relief, he fishes it out of his pocket, and flashes the screen at Shuuji to prove that he did, in fact, give him the right phone number.

The way his expression instantly clears back into friendly eagerness, like the last thirty seconds never happened, makes Chuuya feel like he’s been knocked off-center. "Great! I'll be texting you, darling."

Then he reaches over to press a button on his side of the car, which makes a clicking sound.

Chuuya pulls on the handle again, and this time the door opens without a single problem. He stumbles out into the street, confused as hell, because what the fuck was that all about?

Did...did Shuuji lock him in the car? Did he want to get a few moments alone with him, or did he just forget that it was locked? Assumingly, he wasn't very subtle about his insta-crush, considering Yuan teased him silently about it earlier and Shuuji asked for his number so...

Why was he so convinced that he would've given him the wrong one?

The whole situation is baffling, and Chuuya doesn't know what to make of it, because that's not how he heard how these situations were supposed to go but...

Besides his very brief explorations with a few girls that were friends of the family (which led to the discovery that not only was Chuuya gay, he was also gay as hell), he's only ever watched movies and read books on anything remotely approaching romance.

None of his close friends have partners, and he doesn't feel comfortable enough calling up his older sister to ask how her boyfriend got her number so...

Maybe he's just inexperienced. Maybe he felt kind of uncomfortable because he's just never been in that kind of situation before, with a cute boy he liked staring him down.

Maybe that's just the way things are supposed to go.

Maybe he's just being overdramatic, and needs to learn how to relax a little.

The night has gotten even colder, so he wraps his jacket tighter around himself, heading up the sidewalk.

Yuan and Shirase have waited with Nikolai for him, but they quickly say their goodbyes and head off together off campus. Apparently, they live in apartments nearby, and Chuuya is so jealous he could cry.

Mercifully, Nikolai is quiet as they walk back to their dorm, preoccupied with some game on his phone that plays soft Russian music.

Chuuya spends the entire night trying not to think and failing.