Chapter Text
Ever since the first time he laid eyes on her, Yuta Okkotsu knew he was fucked. How could he not be, when she looked at him with those sharp amber feline eyes that felt like they were looking straight through him?
She was his safe place, his real smile, the kind of presence he clung to without even realizing it. His love for her had been woven together by both heart and mind until it felt irreversible. She was his secret, his home.
She was his.
It was a mess. It pained him every time she skipped their friend group gatherings just because he might be there. Even when he started avoiding them too, hoping to make it easier for her, she still only kept in contact with Megumi. That made sense—Fushiguro siblings were basically the closest thing she had to family left.
But still, avoiding Toge, Yuji, even Nobara… that wasn’t what he expected.
So when he got invited to Nobara’s birthday, his first instinct was to decline. Say he was busy. Anything.
He knew that even though Maki had been avoiding everyone, she would still show up for Nobara. Nobara would never accept anything less.
And Nobara was Nobara.
Saying no wasn’t an option.
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“Everyone, raise your glass for the birthday girl!”
They decided to celebrate at a club at midnight. The place was loud enough that Yuji had to shout at the top of his lungs as the clock flipped from August 6th to August 7th.
People crowded around the table, raising their glasses, cheering Nobara’s name over the music.
And it had been a long time since Yuta last saw her—the one who still had a grip on his sanity.
She was only two people away from him.
And she still looked as beautiful as the day he met her.
A black turtleneck dress that reached mid-thigh, a leather jacket draped over her shoulders, boots grounding her like she belonged anywhere except here—except in his line of sight.
When was the last time he had hugged her? When had “mine” stopped being something he could say, even in his own thoughts, without it hurting?
Did she even know he was still hoping she would look at him—just once—with those eyes again?
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After the birthday wishes and candle blowing, the night dissolved into music, drinking, and dancing.
But Yuta’s eyes never left her.
How could they, when she was right there—smiling, moving with their friends under flashing lights like she wasn’t tearing something inside him just by existing in the same room?
All he wanted was to stay at the bar, drink quietly, and watch her from a distance. That would’ve been enough.
It should’ve been enough.
But none of them were exactly heavy drinkers. Most of them were lightweights—Maki included.
So when the club grew more crowded and chaotic, Yuta noticed her drifting away from the group.
She was near the edge of the dance floor now. And some random guy was talking to her.
Flirting.
He didn’t even know what made him move.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe it was the way she didn’t push the guy away immediately.
Maybe it was jealousy finally snapping something inside him.
She looked drunk. Not fully gone—but enough that she didn’t seem fully present, enough that she wasn’t reacting the way she normally would.
And that scared him more than anything else.
He knew he shouldn’t go over.
He knew she would hate him being near her.
But his mind wasn’t listening.
So he walked over.
He grabbed her wrist.
Pulled her out through the back exit.
And pinned her against the wall.
For a moment, everything went still.
Then he kissed her.
God, he had missed her.
Her lips, her presence, the way she tasted faintly of everything she had been drinking that night—it all hit him at once like something breaking loose inside his chest.
And he thought—he thought—she kissed him back.
The moment their lips separated, the world didn’t rush back in.
It stalled.
Yuta barely even registered the noise from the club anymore. The music was still there, distant and muffled through the walls, like it belonged to another life entirely. All he could hear was his own breathing—too fast, too uneven—and the faint echo of what he had just done.
Maki didn’t move at first.
That was what scared him.
Not anger. Not rejection. Not anything immediate.
Just stillness.
Her wrist was still in his hand, but he didn’t know when he stopped holding it tightly. It felt like if he let go, everything would collapse in on itself.
Then she finally shifted.
Slowly.
Not away from him—just enough to create space. Enough to make the air between them feel colder than it should’ve been.
“…”
Yuta tried to speak, but nothing came out properly. His throat felt tight, like his body had forgotten how language worked.
Maki exhaled once, sharp and controlled.
Then she lifted her hand.
Not to hit him.
Not to reach for him.
Just to wipe her mouth.
A simple motion. Casual, almost absent-minded.
Like it didn’t matter.
Like he didn’t matter.
Yuta felt something in his chest twist violently at that.
Because he knew her. He knew the way she fought, the way she stood her ground, the way she never hesitated when something mattered to her.
And right now—she was acting like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn’t just crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed.
Her eyes finally met his.
And they weren’t soft.
They weren’t confused.
They were clear.
Grounded.
Awake.
That was worse.
“Are you done?” she asked.
Her voice wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
Yuta blinked once, then again, like the question itself didn’t make sense. “Maki… I—”
But she was already adjusting her jacket, rolling her shoulders back like she was resetting herself into place. Like this moment was something inconvenient she needed to move past.
He stepped forward without thinking. “I just— I thought—”
“You thought what?” she cut in, finally sharper now. Not yelling. Just precise. “That dragging me out here and doing that was a good idea?”
The word hit harder than it should’ve.
That.
Not kiss.
Not mistake.
Just that.
Yuta froze.
Because there it was—the consequence forming in real time, too clear to ignore.
“Don’t use that as an excuse,” she said. “You knew exactly what you were doing.” Silence stretched again.
He could hear the club door behind them open briefly, someone laughing inside, completely unaware that something had just ended out here.
Or maybe something had already ended long before this.
Maki finally looked away from him.
Not in anger.
Not in sadness.
Just done.
And as she turned slightly, preparing to leave, Yuta felt it hit him all at once—
How could she act like it was nothing…
when she was still everything to him?
“Don’t,” he said, voice breaking on the edge of it. “Please don’t just—walk away.”
For the first time, she paused.
Not turning back.
Just pausing.
Like she was deciding whether he was still worth responding to at all.