Oh damn-y damn damn bam wham damn frog-in-a-can.
Why couldn’t you learn to keep your big mouth shut? Correction: why couldn’t you learn to keep your overly stupid and overly evil brain from spitting out the worse possible answers at the worst possible moments?
Freud was laughing hysterically at you right now, you were sure of it. Smug bastard was probably making his coffin rattle six feet under as he howled at your misfortune. …Asshole. You hope he choked a mouthful of dirt.
“Son of a bitch,” you moaned, rubbing your hands down your face. “Every damn time!” Storming through the streets, you reviewed on how utterly craptastic your week has been so far.
Monday, you were pretty certain you’d accidentally told your friend that her yellow tracksuit made her look like a banana instead of saying what she wanted hear, which was something along the lines of her looking remarkably like an Italian supermodel. Whether Italian models wear bright yellow tracksuits is still a mystery to you.
Tuesday…damn…you didn’t even want to think about Tuesday. You ended up accidentally bad-mouthing your math teacher. That hadn’t gone very well at all. However, she had been insisting that you had failed the test by one point despite the fact that you were doing well in that class. Admittedly there was a distinct air of animosity surrounding the two of you, but it was easily remedied by stabbing yourself repeatedly in the leg with your pencil as you gave her a charming smile.
The minute you got your test back and noticed the name atop the page — close to yours, but no cigar…who the hell was (you couldn’t even read it) anyways? — you’d instantly countered by saying something along the lines of, “Read it and weep BITCH” instead of “I’m terribly sorry, but there’s been some kind of mistake…”
Wednesday, you’d meant to apologize to the principal, but the simple “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, etc.” ended up turning into a half an hour long rant about how utterly terrible a teacher Ms. Sue Pahor was, the various ways she deserved to die, and the multiple wrongs she had done to you in the past. Not so much of a Freudian slip. It was a Freudian “fall face first, somersault forward a couple times, and land flat on your ass” type of thing.
…Who knew that Ms. Sue Pahor was Principal Fu Kingas’s wife? Wasn’t that a conflict of interest or something?
Thursday, ever thankful for the close connections your father had with other schools in the area, you’d managed to secure a spot at Meiou where hopefully there weren’t any aggravating math teachers threatening to make your head combust on the spot simply with their voice alone. You had, of course, had to adjust rather quickly given it was about two months into the school year, and the workload that Meiou students seemed to shoulder without any effort at all was extremely heavy.
You’d instantly befriended a girl called Siley Nide (it’d taken you a while to pronounce it just so: “SSSSSIIII-lee. Nide.” “…The fuck are you talking about?”), but you’d grown close to her and had even taken the liberty upon yourself to call her Sy. Sy Nide. …Why did that sound so strange?
Regardless, life was good. Your brain wasn’t conspiring with your mouth and sending little…whatever they ares to different areas of your body and convincing them to rebel and cause you eternal humiliation.
Yes, life was good. And, of course, Freud got bored staring at the dirt and called up his good friend way up high, tangled some lines, and proceeded to fuck with your life.
Friday. Fri-fucking-day. End of the week, time to stare at the clock and beg for the hands to move faster because damn if the weather isn’t amazing outside! After a few minutes, you grabbed your pre-packed bag and booked it out of there as fast as you could, pushing your way through the chattering mass of students as you made your way to your locker.
Stowing away your books, you fought your way to the cafeteria and sat down exhausted, heaving a sigh as Sy grinned at you. She slurped happily on her juice box a moment longer before popping the straw from her lips with a satisfying smack and crushing the container in her fist.
“I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said cheerfully, short dark blue hair framing her angular face as she fixed a wayward kelly-green hair barrette.
“Is it a good surprise?” you asked wearily, reaching into your bag to pull out your lunch.
“As good as a hot guy in a box with a ribbon around his–” Sy smacked you with her flattened juice box, giving you a mock glare. You smiled sheepishly and unpacked your lunch. “Sorry…I’ll shut up now.”
Sy nodded approvingly before smiling and poking your arm, indicating with a nod of her head for you to look behind you. Turning, mouth stuffed full of a delicious jelly sandwich (PEACH jelly. …Who the hell came up with peach jelly, damn it? But it was delicious and you had no fucking clue why you were thinking this) you chewed for a while, regretting the half a sandwich in your mouth as you looked at your ‘surprise’.
Swallowing hastily, you whirled back around and just about squeezed the life out of the jelly yummy. Your eyes narrowed. “It’s a guy.” Sy nodded, a cattish grin on her face.
“It’s Shuichi Minamino.” Your eyes narrowed even more.
“It’s a Shuichi Minamino,” you deadpanned.
“…” Sy blinked as your eyes just about closed completely. “Shuichi Minamino?” You took another huge bite of your sandwich and contemplated things for a moment before inhaling the rest of your jelly heaven. You snapped your eyes open.
“What is this ShuichiMinamino you speak of? Is that even legal here?” you demanded, wiping your hands on your blazer. Sy snorted and tugged on your sleeve. Standing, you obliged her request and went to share her bench so you could look at him without it being too obvious.
“Watch and learn, (Last name),” Sy stated quietly, before continuing and adopting an Australian accent. “What we have here is a rare phenomenon. This species is almost completely extinct, and very hard to find in their natural habitat.”
“…Are you trying to imitate the Crocodile Hunter? ‘Cause sweetie, I’ve got news for you…you’re not exactly Croc Hunter material.”
“Shut up,” Sy mumbled, frowning, but dropping the accent nonetheless. “Anyways, here’s the Prince of Meiou. Enjoy. Drool. Just don’t go all fangirl-y on me or I’ll be forced to kick your ass.”
There was an ensuing moment of silence, used primarily to observe the fine, fine male that had decided to grace the cafeteria with his presence. The silence stretched, and Sy fidgeted. She prodded you again, this time in the stomach.
“Well? What d’you think?” You rubbed the offended area of your stomach before pursing your lips and tilting your head to the side.
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
You could’ve said something, ANYTHING else! Commented on his hair, his eyes, his smile, his gentle demeanor, the intelligent look in his eyes, what the fuck ever.
But NO. Freud pulled the strings and the marbles started to roll, disconnecting your brain from the sane part of your consciousness for the moment.
And loud and clear, spoken for everyone to hear, you did not say, “He’s attractive, and has nice hair and eyes.” Bland admittedly compared to what you really spit out, but fucking ‘a’…anything would’ve worked!
“He looks like the dog I had when I was a kid” would’ve fit nicely. It would’ve been preferred.
No. Your mouth opened and closed, the breath flew out of your lungs, your vocal chords hummed to form the words “I’d tap that” during a rather untimely lull in the cafeteria conversation.
…Silence. A spoon clattered to its untimely defeat at that moment: spoon — 0, floor — WIN. And if that wasn’t the worst of it, Shuichi turned the most brilliant pair of eyes in your direction, something akin to amusement and slight embarrassment transferred right to you as you stared in shock, locked eye to eye with him.
“Oh, shit! ‘Scuse my language!” you said quickly. Apologizing! That’d be a good start! “I’m really, really sorry…” Excellent! Continue with that, mouth! “…But you’ve got a sexy bod. SHIT. I’m sorry! Right! That’s what I meant! I’m sorry! For staring. At your ass. …That last part wasn’t supposed to come out.”
So, thoroughly humiliated, mortified, embarrassed, and just about ready to burst into flames and run outside screaming to heaven and back, you stood and darted from the cafeteria, leaving your bag and slamming out the doors. And then you rushed back in, grabbed the forgotten satchel, bowed apologetically with a hand slapped over your mouth, and booked it out of there.
And here you were, making your merry way home, unable to bear going to your classes for fear of being called a sexual harasser. …Stupid Freud. Freudian slip my ass. More like Freudian fall-off-a-cliff.
Glancing around quickly and noting the lack of witnesses nearby, you grabbed your bag and walked over to the nearest building. Looking around again, you whipped your bag forward and screamed, punching and hitting the wall repeatedly as you howled something completely animalistic and chock-full of enough swear words to burn the ears off any hardy sailor. Finished, you let your voice die down, thoroughly raw as you coughed, leaning against the wall for support.
Turning, you were about to take a step forward when you noticed the little old lady who’s mouth was wide open as her poor Begonias were drowned in the steady stream of water being poured into them. You bowed quickly, mumbled a sorry, and began to speed-walk away. You heard someone murmur something to dearest Begonia-killer and your ears burned; there were two witnesses? That was just lovely.
“…Freudian slips. My kingdom for a Freudian slip-less day!” you whined under your breath.
“What?” an amused voice asked and you turned around, jaw falling to the ground.
“Oh no…not you!” you wailed, shoulders slumping as you fought to keep from crumbling to the ground. Shuichi just watched you with an entertained expression on his face. “I mean…I’m sorry,” you said finally, happy to get it out of the way. The redhead shook his head briefly, still grinning all the while as his shoulders shook due to his silent laughter.
“It’s quite alright,” he assured you, offering you your wallet which, unfortunately, must have slipped from your bag when you had grabbed it hastily from the table.
“Oh! My wallet!” you exclaimed, taking it. “Unfortunately, it must have slipped from my bag when I had grabbed it hastily from the table!” You frowned, brow furrowing. You were suddenly overcome with déjà vu… “Anyways, shouldn’t you be in class?”
“I could ask you that myself,” Shuichi asked, his hilarity dying down as his shoulders stilled and he wiped the almost very nearly goofy smile off his face.
“…I think you know why,” you answered, laughing nervously. “Speaking of that…I’m sorry,” you repeated, bowing for good measure.
“It’s quite alright…it’s not the first time I’ve heard that from you. I just never expected you to declare it so publicly,” he answered as your eyes widened.
“…Not the first time?” you squeaked, and Shuichi nodded.
“I don’t suppose you…ah…remember a certain party? Hosted by Yusuke? I do believe you ended up calling him ‘Candy ass’ at the end of the evening.” You blanched. And said something along the lines of “Agulaghblauuugh” before gathering your thoughts and stammering through thousands of half-formed thoughts.
“That was you?” you finally, whispered, recoiling slightly. “You were the guy that I just about face-raped with my mouth before I ran to the bathroom and got to know the Porcelain Princess?” When Shuichi did nothing to correct you, you covered your face with your hands in horror. “…Oh no. Oh damn. No no no no nononononoNO.” Stepping hesitantly forward, you quickly reached out your hand and placed it smack on his backside, squeezing once for good measure.
You stumbled back in horror as Shuichi’s face transfixed itself into a look of surprise. Knees knocking together, cold sweat covering your skin and pupils dilated by pure, undiluted HORROR, you raised a shaking finger to point at him.
“…It really was you! I think! …Please let it not be you…” you cried pathetically, mind chugging pathetically to conclude the thought that yes, you had inadvertently molested this positively delicious young man a few nights ago, and didn’t remember it. Until now, of course. …After he reminded you, and you grabbed his ass.
Well! That’s irony for you!
And your train of thought reached the station, started yelling something ridiculously loudly about “I KNEW I COULD I KNEW I COULD!” before you smashed it to smithereens and kicked ‘the little engine who thought he could and chugged his way up with a shit-eating grin on his face to ruin my LIFE’ out into the dusty corner of the back of your mind. May it die in peace.
While you were distracted, Shuichi smirked, something gold flashing through his eyes. He suddenly reached forward and dragged you into a long, arduous kiss that you returned with equal fervor, twining your hands in his hair as you continued the passionate contact. Your mouth worked against his, bodies pressed closely together as you tried to create more of the delicious contact.
Breaking away, you panted heavily for a moment, but did not remove your body.
“It really was you!” you repeated in awe, not sure what fucking corkscrew of life had made this man…er…boy, young man…male Meiou student come…er…groping back into your life. …That sounded wrong. Regardless! “I-I don’t know what to say!” Shuichi’s smirk came back, perfectly devilish and completely contrary to the initial impression of a polite, reserved, well-spoken…ShuichiMinamino who no-one would have guessed to be engaged in some rather intense PDA.
“There’s only one thing to say,” he replied lightly, and you flushed a dark red as his hands slid daringly to the curve of your bottom. “I’d tap that.”