Archive of Our Own ^beta

Horikita never claimed to be gentle, kind hearted, or any form or definition of nice. She’s never claimed to him that she was some saint from above that’ll protect him, no matter how much he silently wished she would. Just as he never claimed to hold her dear, to hold her close. Ayanakouji never claimed such things, just as Horikita. They never claimed to be each others somethings. Yet they sat in almost darkness, being that. 

Contra to her usual self, Horikita touched his hand with softness. Caressing the blood covered hand with gentle ease. This type of action was nearing impossibility in Ayanakouji’s eyes. But he watched on, looking at how her usually blank stare turned into sadness, worry. Even as she looked up slowly, he felt something akin to disappointment settle in his gut. As if he was upset that it led to this. 

A dark dorm room, both on the floor, staining the floors. His hand being cadged in by her uncharacteristically gentle touch. Everything about it screamed intimacy. He shivered slightly, the breeze from the left open window touching his bare wrist. With the deep wound in his hand, everything became heightened. His senses. His skin. Like he was contracting a cold, suddenly everything around him felt off. Even her touch was off. 

“You are truly an idiot.” She finally spoke, he heard her voice loud and clear. But no matter how much Horikita tried to remain closed in, almost like a void, her voice trembled slightly. As if the sight of him injured was unfathomable. Even Kei could tell when he was uncomfortable. After every time he neglected to smile at her. It’s as if she always knew deep down something changed. 

“That is harsh.” He answered bluntly, getting a whack in the arm. Horikita was not amused by the quip. Hoping he’d taking the dire situation seriously. But he neglected to also see why his injury was of significance to her. But one look into her moon shining eyes, he found the truth. For that split second of worry, he felt emotions. The same kind he felt when he smiled at her during coffee. 

“Please take it seriously… it’s just that..” he knows, he understands what Horikita is implying. If the fight went on, who knows if Ayanokouji truly would have won, or if he’d be another pebble on the road to be stepped on. But like hell he’d let anything happen to anyone. Despite his protests. He cares for the class. Behind the deception is just a teenager who wants a life, he just happened to run into a certain dark haired girl in the mists of finding that life. 

“I know, Horikita. I know.” He sighed. Truly understanding. He flipped his palm so he could calmly grab her hand. Splaying the blood against her wrist by accident, but not breaking eye contact despite his mind screaming that this is wrong. That they’re nothing to each other. Nothing besides Pawns and.. yeah, nothing besides a living chess piece. 

But when he looks at her, even outside of this situation. He can’t help but look at the Queen. The similarities between Horikita and the Queen chess piece on his board. One that many assumed was vacated by Kei. But truly held its spot for another. Horikita held authority, she held ability. Like the queen, she can move anywhere on the board, play with whom ever. Despite being a pawn to the king, she wants his approval. 

Ayanakouji, despite some assuming he’s dumb headed, dimwitted, self-centered, and egotistical, knew about Horikita’s need for an approval. The way their relationship changed, he never turned a blind eye to it. Even with Manbu and his constant warnings. From the day he protected Horikita on multiple occasions, to this very moment. Her approval grew stronger, wanting to do anything and everything. It made him feel strangely warm. 

“I am sorry. It was probably my mess, and I should have been stronger..” the rain outside banged against the window, droplets landing on the floor inside. Against all odds, the sound of the rain made the mood less tense. Like a crashing waterfall. The very one he remembered hearing during the island test. The only difference is that the girl before him is no longer sick, but just scared and worried. She doesn’t need to be carried anymore for her health, but carried for the need to be loved. 

“Ayanokōji..” Horikita watched their hands. His palm against hers. Blood trickling down and onto the floor against their knees. “What? Not going to add ‘kun’ to that ending,” he joked. It fell flat immediately, or he thought it did, till she showed him an amused smile. It felt familiar to him. Tears nearly prickled in his eyes, she doesn’t smile like that to him anymore. Not since the Manbu stuff, or even this incident, and the more following. The smile disappeared. 

He reached out with his good hand to touch her dark hair, now shortened. Another thing she did for her unwavering approval. The dark hair fell through his fingers, twirling around them. Her hair was soft, the red thread was connected to her hair firmly. Despite how much his index finger played with the bunny loop. All that fell was short locks of hair. He didn’t gauge her reaction immediately, too focused on her hair. 

He didn’t feel her hand trial to his chest, nor her uncharacteristically delicate fingers grip his uniform. He didn’t feel the way she leaned in and let his free arm land softly on her shoulder, or perhaps the way he left his injured hand rest on the small of her back, pulling her in. His non-injured hand still played with strands of her hair. 

He didn’t feel the way she hugged him. 

Or perhaps he did.