𝑷𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒚 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒀𝒂𝒏! 𝑨𝒓𝒕 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒙 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒉 𝑺𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝑪𝒍𝒖𝒃 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑭 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (Part 1) —> ( Part 2 )
For as long as Nagito Komaeda had known you, you had always felt impossibly out of reach. Loud, confident, constantly surrounded by people while he lingered awkwardly in the background of your class, watching from afar far more often than he should. But becoming the leader of the school sports club has accidentally opened a door for him, finally giving Nagito an excuse to stay close to you. Hopefully, you never realise just how deeply unhealthy his fixation on you actually is.
(Brace yourself this is very long)
𝑰𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝑵𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝑰𝒗𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎.
𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝒎𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝒔 of 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑘, 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑁𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦. (characters are OOC)
_______________________________________
The echo of trainers squeaking against polished flooring, the dull thud of feet hitting the ground, and the sharp whistle cutting through it all created a kind of organised chaos that only a PE hall could sustain, especially one as large as this.
The space felt almost split in two worlds on one side, your group dragged themselves through laps under your supervision, their complaints overlapping into a constant low groan, while on the other, a completely separate cluster of students shouted over a heated football game. And in the middle of all that noise, you stood there with arms crossed, posture straight, and expression unimpressed as you tracked every single person slacking off.
"Pick up the pace," you called, “If I see one more person walking, we’re restarting the count!”
A chorus of tired protests followed.
“Shut up and run!" You shot back instantly, not even bothering to look at who said it.
From the sidelines, your friend group lingered, half-participating, half-commentating as usual.
“Y’know,” Fuyuhiko muttered, arms folded as he leaned against the wall, “you enjoy this too much.”
“I don’t enjoy it,” you replied flatly. “I just don’t like incompetence.”
Before he could argue further, something shifted at the edge of your vision. A movement that didn’t match the pace or direction of anyone already inside the hall.
You turned your head slightly, eyes narrowing.
Fuyuhiko squinted trying to follow your line of sight.
He wasn't dressed for PE, that was the first thing. No proper kit, no energy, no purpose, just a slightly slouched posture, shoulders relaxed like he wasn’t sure where to put his hands, his feet, or even his gaze. His eyes flickered across the room, lingering too long on things that didn’t matter, before eventually and inevitably landing on you.
“…Isn’t that-” you started, brows pulling together.
You exhaled sharply through your nose.
“What’s he doing here?” Fuyuhiko muttered.
“No idea,” you replied, already irritated.
Nagito took a hesitant step forward. Then another.
He looked like he was trying to approach you but the noise swallowed him whole. The shouting from the football side, the pounding footsteps, your own voice echoing commands, it all drowned him out before he could even properly speak.
Your eyes flicked past him and immediately locked onto the football flying across the hall straight toward him.
Your voice cut out instinctively, sharp and urgent. “Don’t come any closer- !”
But he didn’t react. Couldn't even hear you. Instead, Nagito tilted his head slightly, like he was about to say something, his lips parting.
The sound was sickeningly solid as the ball slammed directly into the side of his head.
Silence hit your side of the hall a second later.
“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The nurse’s office had settled back into silence after the initial rush of bringing him in. The room itself was warm compared to outside, carrying the smell mixed faintly with old paper and fabric softener from the neatly folded spare blankets stacked near the wall. Thin strips of pale afternoon light filtered through the blinds covering the windows, stretching across the tiled floor and climbing halfway up the legs of your chair.
You sat slouched slightly beside the bed now, one elbow resting against the armrest while your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the whistle hanging around your neck. Across from you, Fuyuhiko looked considerably less patient, his irritation practically radiating off him as he stared at the unconscious boy lying on the bed.
Honestly, the entire thing still felt ridiculous.
Out of everyone that could have wandered into a PE lesson uninvited, it just had to be him.
The pale, awkward guy from class who looked like he spent more time staring out windows than actually participating in conversations.
The nurse stood near the cabinets organising supplies, seemingly used to students crowding her office, though every now and then her attention flicked back toward the bed in brief checks to make sure Nagito was still breathing normally. His condition clearly was not severe enough to warrant panic, but the swelling near the side of his head was beginning to darken faintly into a bruise, standing out starkly against his pale skin.
Fuyuhiko clicked his tongue. “Seriously, what kinda idiot walks into an active sports hall like that?”
“He probably got lost,” you replied dryly.
“In a straight corridor?”
You shrugged lazily. “Maybe directions are too athletic for him.”
That earned a quiet laugh from Fuyuhiko, though it dissolved almost immediately when movement stirred from the bed beside you.
At first it was barely noticeable, just the faint twitch of fingers against the sheets before a sharper inhale followed, uneven enough to make both you and Fuyuhiko glance over at the same time. Nagito’s brows pinched together faintly as consciousness slowly dragged itself back across his face. His head shifted slightly against the pillow before he immediately seemed to regret the movement, a quiet breath slipping past his lips as his hand weakly rose toward the side of his head.
He blinked slowly against the fluorescent lights overhead, his unfocused gaze drifting across the ceiling before eventually lowering toward the edge of the room.
Then his eyes landed on you. Recognition flickered across his expression almost instantly.
“…Ah,” he murmured quietly, his voice rough and sluggish from disorientation.
You leaned back slightly in your chair, watching him carefully despite yourself. Up close like this, he somehow looked even more pathetic than usual, pale face still faintly flushed from the impact while strands of messy white hair stuck awkwardly against his forehead.
“You okay?” you asked flatly, though there was less bite behind it than before.
Nagito blinked at you once.
“…Probably,” he answered after a pause.
Fuyuhiko snorted loudly from beside you. “That reassuring, huh?”
Nagito shifted slightly as though attempting to sit up, only for a wince to pull sharply across his expression halfway through the motion. His hand pressed harder against the side of his head while his shoulders tensed faintly beneath the blanket.
“You look awful,” you commented automatically.
“I feel…” Nagito hesitated quietly, eyes lowering for a second like he was trying to find the correct answer. “A little strange.”
“Well yeah,” Fuyuhiko muttered. “You got nailed in the skull with a football.”
Before either of you could continue, the nurse finally stepped away from the cabinets after clearly overhearing enough of the conversation to intervene. Her shoes tapped softly against the tiled floor as she approached the bed.
“Try not to move around too much yet,” she said gently, reaching over to adjust the pillow behind his head slightly. “Are you feeling dizzy at all?”
His shoulders drew in slightly, gaze shifting away from direct eye contact while one hand awkwardly toyed with the edge of the blanket near his lap.
“…A bit,” he answered quietly.
He paused longer that time.
The nurse studied him for a moment, clearly aware he was being vague on purpose, though she did not push much harder.
“You hit your head fairly hard,” she explained patiently. “So if anything worsens, you need to tell me honestly, alright?”
Nagito nodded quickly. “Sorry.”
“You don't need to apologise for getting injured.”
That only seemed to embarrass him further.
His gaze dropped toward the sheets again while he muttered another soft apology anyway, fingers curling slightly tighter into the blanket. Beside you, Fuyuhiko looked seconds away from laughing again.
Honestly, you kind of understood why.
There was something oddly awkward about the entire thing, especially seeing someone like Nagito trying so hard to minimise the fact he had been unconscious ten minutes ago.
The nurse eventually sighed softly before straightening back up.
“Well,” she said, turning her attention toward you and Fuyuhiko now, “he seems to be doing alright for the moment. I’ll keep him here a little longer just in case, but you two can head back to class.”
You glanced toward Nagito instinctively.
His posture shifted faintly, lips parting slightly like he had thought of speaking before immediately second-guessing himself. Whatever thought had crossed his mind lingered visibly in his expression for only a moment before he lowered his gaze again.
“…Right,” you said eventually, pushing yourself up from the chair.
Fuyuhiko stood beside you with considerably less hesitation. “Try not to get knocked unconscious again, yeah?”
“I’ll do my best,” Nagito replied quietly.
You grabbed your bag from beside the chair before glancing back toward him one last time.
Then the nurse ushered both you and Fuyuhiko out before the conversation could drag any further.
By the end of the school day, the entire situation had settled into that awkward category of events you could not decide whether to laugh at or feel slightly bad about.
The final bell rang through the building in one long shrill noise, instantly setting off the usual flood of students spilling into the corridors. Lockers slammed shut, conversations rose over one another, shoes squeaked against polished floors as everybody hurried toward the exits before clubs started.
Outside, the evening air felt cooler than expected, carrying the lingering scent of rain from somewhere far off. Students crowded near the front gates in messy clusters, some already halfway down the pavement while others lingered around waiting for friends.
You adjusted the strap of your bag higher onto your shoulder while stepping down the front stairs beside Akane and Nekomaru, both still loudly arguing about practice from earlier.
“I’m telling you,” Akane complained dramatically, throwing her arms into the air, “making people do that many laps should actually be illegal.”
“You skipped half of them!” you replied immediately.
“Because I was conserving energy!”
“That’s just another word for being lazy.”
Nekomaru let out a booming laugh beside her. “Your endurance truly has gotten worse lately!”
“My endurance is AMAZING,” Akane shot back.
“You got tired tying your shoelaces yesterday.”
You snorted quietly, shaking your head while the three of you continued toward the gates together.
“Whatever,” you muttered. “Just show up on time tomorrow.”
Akane groaned loudly enough for nearby students to glance over while Nekomaru laughed again, the sound carrying halfway across the courtyard.
“See you tomorrow, [name],” Akane called teasingly before finally splitting off down another street with Nekomaru still lecturing her about stamina training.
You had barely taken a few more steps before you heard hurried footsteps somewhere behind you.
You slowed slightly before glancing back over your shoulder.
Nagito stood several feet behind you looking like he had absolutely not thought this through properly.
The faint bruise near his temple stood out darker now beneath the evening light, making him look even more pitiful than he had earlier.
For a second neither of you said anything.
Nagito opened his mouth slightly like he meant to speak-
Then immediately seemed to lose confidence halfway through.
“…Sorry,” he said first instead, quieter than expected.
You stared at him. “For what?”
“I-I mean, for stopping you.”
Your brows pulled together faintly.
“What do you want?” you asked eventually, shifting your bag against your shoulder.
Nagito visibly straightened slightly at the question before immediately fumbling again. “Ah- well, I just…” He hesitated, gaze flickering everywhere except directly at you. “I was thinking about earlier and I realised it was probably pathetic.”
You snorted before you could stop yourself.
“I don’t think most people train for football impact resistance,” you replied dryly.
Nagito let out a small awkward laugh beneath his breath, rubbing the back of his neck lightly.
“I thought maybe…” He paused again. “Actually, this is probably strange. No, I mean- ” He cut himself off immediately, expression tightening slightly in embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m explaining this badly.”
Another silence settled between you after that.
Students continued passing around both sides of the pavement while Nagito stood there visibly trying to reorganise his thoughts in real time. It was almost painful watching him attempt confidence only to immediately second-guess himself halfway through every sentence.
Eventually he exhaled softly.
“I wanted to ask if…” He swallowed slightly. “If you would maybe help train me.”
You looked him up and down instinctively.
The answer your brain produced immediately was absolutely not.
Nagito noticed your expression almost instantly and hurried to continue.
“Not professionally,” he added quickly. “Or-I mean, not seriously serious. I just thought maybe if I improved physically then things like today wouldn’t happen again and since you’re obviously very capable and-”
Then sighed slowly through your nose.
“You do realise training with me isn’t easy, right? You looked exhausted walking across the courtyard just now.”
You took another glance at him, looking like you were mentally preparing yourself for the next sentence out your mouth.
“Your number,” you repeated. “I’m not organising training through psychic communication.”
His face somehow looked even more confused now.
“Oh,” he repeated quieter.
You raised an eyebrow. “jeez don't make a thing about it.”
Then immediately fumbled trying to get his phone from his pocket.
You watched in mild disbelief as he nearly dropped it outright before awkwardly catching it against his chest, visibly flustered now for reasons you could not entirely understand.
“Sorry,” he muttered under his breath while unlocking it. “I just didn’t think you’d…”
You held your hand out expectantly.
After a second Nagito finally handed the phone over, though the tips of his ears had turned faintly pink now beneath his hair.
You typed your contact information in quickly before then typing his number down in your phone and then handing it back.
“There,” you said casually. “Now if you die during training at least somebody’ll know who to contact.”
Nagito looked down at the screen for a moment too long.
More like he was genuinely processing the fact your contact information was sitting there at all.
“…Right,” he murmured quietly. "…Thank you.”
_________________________
Nagito had checked his phone so many times within the past twenty minutes that the brightness of the screen had started burning into his eyes.
The room around him felt unbearably cramped despite how little furniture it actually contained, the dim light from his desk lamp stretching weakly across his sketchbooks and loose papers while rain tapped steadily against the apartment window beside him. Usually it calmed him.
Tonight it was doing the opposite.
Because every single thought eventually circled back toward you.
Toward the fact you had actually taken his number.
Toward the fact you had agreed to help him train despite looking seconds away from refusing the entire conversation.
Toward the fact he had somehow managed to embarrass himself repeatedly in front of you and yet you still had not completely brushed him off.
Nagito paced slowly near the foot of his bed again, phone clutched tightly in one hand while his other dragged nervously through his already messy hair. Every few seconds he unlocked the screen despite there still being no notifications waiting for him.
Or talking to actual friends instead of thinking about the weird guy who got knocked unconscious in your PE lesson.
His chest tightened slightly every time the screen remained empty.
Maybe he should text first.
Nothing he came up with sounded natural.
"Sorry again" sounded pathetic.
"Thank you for helping me" sounded even worse somehow.
Nagito exhaled sharply through his nose before dropping down onto the edge of his bed, elbows resting against his knees while he stared at the contact screen displaying your name.
Just looking at it made him nervous.
Before he could overthink himself into putting the phone down entirely, the device suddenly buzzed violently in his hand.
Nagito nearly jerked it onto the floor.
His stomach twisted painfully as he scrambled to unlock it too quickly, fingers slipping once against the screen before finally opening the notification.
The second your messages loaded, he froze.
_______________________________________
[Name]: if ur actually serious about training then u should probably join the club properly instead of lurking around sports halls getting concussions
[Name]: practices start at 7 and if ur late I'll personally come and kill you.
_______________________________________
A small breath escaped him before he could stop it.
Then immediate panic followed right after.
Nagito straightened slightly where he sat, fingers hovering uncertainly above the keyboard while his thoughts immediately became tangled again.
If he answered too quickly he would seem desperate.
If he waited too long it might seem rude.
If he sounded too excited you would probably think he was weird.
Nagito typed something quickly.
His shoulders slumped slightly.
Why was normal conversation so difficult?
After another long moment, he finally forced himself to send something before he lost the nerve entirely.
_______________________________________
Nagito: I didnt realise you were inviting me into the club
Nagito: are you sure thats a good idea??
_______________________________________
The second the message sent, regret hit him immediately.
You probably already regretted messaging him.
Nagito rubbed a hand over his face tiredly before setting the phone beside him on the bed, only for it to buzz again almost instantly.
_______________________________________
[Name]: but watching u nearly die from one football was humiliating for everybody involved so clearly somebody has to help u
Nagito: kuzuryu-san seemed genuinely disappointed i woke up afterwards
[Name]: fuyuhiko is disappointed by everybody thats normal
[Name]: honestly im more concerned ab how bad ur stamina probably is
[Name]: have u ever actually exercised willingly before?
_______________________________________
His fingers hovered awkwardly above the keyboard again while he tried thinking of a response that did not make him sound completely hopeless.
The truth felt humiliating.
But lying to someone who would absolutely notice during training tomorrow seemed even worse.
_______________________________________
Nagito: I used to walk places more often before
_______________________________________
There was a noticeably longer pause this time.
Nagito immediately started overthinking it.
Maybe that answer had been too pathetic.
Maybe you were showing your friends the messages and laughing.
_______________________________________
[Name]: thats literally just existing
[Name]: this is gonna be worse than I thought
_______________________________________
Nagito laughed quietly again despite the embarrassment curling through him.
The next morning felt colder than usual.
At this hour, the building barely felt occupied at all. The corridors were empty except for the occasional distant sound of a teacher unlocking a classroom somewhere further down the hall, and even the gym lights had only partially been switched on, leaving sections of the large PE hall dim beneath the high ceiling.
You hadn't expected anyone to already be there.
Which was why the second you pushed open the gym doors and spotted a figure sitting alone near the bleachers, you physically paused.
The person looked up immediately at the noise, messy pale hair falling slightly into tired eyes before recognition softened his expression.
“Oh,” Nagito said quietly. “Good morning.”
You stared at him for a long second. Then at the clock mounted above the far wall. Then back at him again.
Nagito blinked once, almost confused by the question itself.
“It starts in like forty minutes.”
“…I didn’t want to be late.”
You exhaled quietly through your nose before dropping your sports bag onto the bleachers beside him with a dull thud.
“Well now you’re annoyingly early instead.”
“You apologise too much.”
Nagito gave a small awkward nod at that before immediately looking away again.
Up close, he somehow looked even more exhausted than yesterday. Faint shadows sat beneath his eyes like he had either barely slept, and despite the oversized sports clothes he wore now, he still looked painfully fragile sitting there.
The hall remained quiet around you while you started unpacking equipment from your bag, the squeak of your shoes against the polished floor echoing softly through the otherwise empty space.
“You nervous?” you asked casually after a moment.
“I’m more worried about embarrassing myself.”
You snorted quietly. “Too late for that.”
A faint laugh escaped him after that, softer than yesterday’s, though it disappeared quickly when you turned toward the equipment room.
“I’m grabbing cones,” you muttered. “Try not to collapse while I’m gone.”
You pushed open the storage room door without another thought, disappearing briefly into the cramped equipment space while Nagito remained alone near the bleachers outside.
The second the door clicked shut behind you, the atmosphere around him shifted almost immediately.
If anything, it got worse.
Nagito’s gaze drifted slowly toward the sports bag you had left beside the bench.
That alone already felt invasive enough.
It sat partially unzipped from where you had hurriedly dropped it earlier, the edge of a folded club shirt visible near the top amongst water bottles and training equipment. Just a plain spare shirt. Nothing special.
Nagito’s chest tightened strangely looking at it.
His fingers curled slightly against his knees.
But the thought had already rooted itself unpleasantly into the back of his mind the second he noticed it, lingering there no matter how hard he tried ignoring it.
You probably had multiple.
And it was only because he needed spare clothes for training anyway.
That reasoning sounded thinner every time he repeated it internally.
Nagito glanced once toward the storage room door.
The sounds of equipment shifting around confirmed it.
Before he could properly reconsider, he leaned forward quickly and unzipped the bag further with unsteady hands.
The shirt came free almost too easily.
White fabric with the club emblem near the sleeve.
Warm still from being packed recently.
Nagito immediately felt his pulse spike the second it was in his hands.
For a brief moment he just stared at it before hurriedly shoving it down into his own bag beneath his notebooks, movements rushed and clumsy with panic.
The zipper had barely closed again before the storage room door opened.
Nagito jerked upright so fast it almost looked painful.
You stepped back into the gym carrying equipment beneath one arm before immediately narrowing your eyes slightly at him.
His stomach dropped instantly.
You stared at him another second then shrugged. “Relax,” you muttered while setting the equipment down. “You look terrified.”
Nagito forced a laugh that sounded painfully unnatural even to himself.
“No, I just…” He swallowed slightly. “I thought you were coming back later.”
Nagito’s hand tightened slightly around the strap of his bag beside him while guilt and something far more embarrassing twisted together painfully in his chest.
And somehow the worst part was that he did not even regret it yet.
The gym had changed completely within the span of half an hour.
What had once been quiet and mostly empty now echoed with overlapping voices, squeaking trainers, the dull thud of sports bags hitting the floor, and the general chaos that always came with your club arriving all at once. Students crowded near the bleachers while others stretched lazily across the court, still half-awake despite the early hour.
You stood near the centre of the hall with your clipboard tucked beneath one arm, already regretting agreeing to supervise people this early in the morning.
“Alright,” you called loudly, your voice carrying cleanly through the gym. “Warm-ups first before anybody starts whining about drills.”
“Too late,” one of the first years complained immediately.
Across the hall, Akane dropped dramatically onto the floor to stretch while Nekomaru loudly corrected everyone’s posture whether they asked for help or not.
Near the bleachers, Fuyuhiko looked deeply irritated simply by being present at all, though the second his eyes landed on Nagito awkwardly lingering near the back of the group, his expression flattened even further.
“…He actually came,” he muttered under his breath.
And then there was Nagito. Immediately noticeable.
Everybody else blended into the busy movement of stretching and warm-ups naturally enough, but Nagito stood out like somebody had accidentally placed the wrong character into the scene entirely. He slouched near the edge of the formation awkwardly, posture stiff while trying very hard to imitate the others without actually understanding what he was doing.
“Ten minute warm-up,” you instructed while clapping your hands once sharply. “If anybody pulls something during drills because they didn’t stretch properly, that’s your own fault.”
A chorus of tired complaints followed while everyone finally began moving through the routine.
You paused mid-stretch, staring at Nagito from across the line.
Nagito looked up immediately like he had just been caught committing a crime.
“You look like you’re being exorcised.”
Nearby, Akane burst out laughing loud enough to echo through the gym.
Nagito visibly shrank slightly at the attention.
You exhaled sharply before walking over toward him while the rest of the club continued their exercises behind you.
“Move,” you muttered, stepping directly in front of him. “Watch properly.”
Nagito straightened immediately.
“Your stance is wrong,” you explained while repositioning your own feet against the floor. “And your arms are supposed to stay aligned like this.”
You demonstrated the movement slowly, raising your arms properly before rotating your shoulders slightly.
His eyes followed every movement with unnerving concentration while you repeated the stretch again.
“…Do you get it now?” you asked.
Nagito attempted the movement again.
You stared at him in disbelief for a second before finally grabbing his wrist with a sigh.
“No, your arm goes here.”
The second you touched him, his entire body visibly stiffened.
You either did not notice or chose not to care.
“Relax your shoulders,” you muttered while physically repositioning his arms yourself. “You’re tense for no reason.”
Nagito made a strange choking sound beside you.
You frowned slightly. “What.”
“Stop apologising every five seconds.”
His breathing sounded uneven now.
Honestly, it was starting to irritate you.
You stepped around him again to fix his posture from another angle, pushing lightly against one shoulder while repositioning his elbow properly.
“This isn’t complicated,” you muttered. “Why are you standing like a broken action figure?”
Nagito’s face had gone noticeably red by now and entire posture remained rigid beneath your hands while he stared somewhere over your shoulder like making eye contact would kill him instantly.
He abruptly cut himself off with another strangled sounding breath.
Your irritation finally snapped slightly after that.
“Oh my god, would you shut up for a second?” you hissed quietly. “You can't do simple stretches and it’s pissing me off.”
Nagito immediately went silent.
Then from somewhere nearby-
Fuyuhiko stood a few feet away watching the entire situation unfold with an expression hovering dangerously close to tears from suppressed laughter.
The second he noticed you looking at him, he completely lost it.
“NO WAY,” he barked loudly.
Every nearby student looked over instantly.
Your brows furrowed immediately. “What.”
Fuyuhiko pointed aggressively toward Nagito without even attempting composure anymore.
“He’s got a fucking bon-”
“OI.” Your voice cracked through the gym instantly.
Half the room went dead silent.
Nagito looked like he genuinely wanted the floor to swallow him whole.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you snapped toward Fuyuhiko immediately before he could finish.
“I’m not the one pitching a tent during stretching!”
Nagito had physically covered part of his face with one hand by now, shoulders tense enough to look painful while nearby students started laughing in confused horror.
Fuyuhiko still looked seconds away from passing out laughing.
“You were literally touching him all over!”
“I WAS FIXING HIS POSTURE.”
Your face twisted in annoyance before you finally stepped away from Nagito entirely.
“Whatever,” you muttered sharply. “Figure it out yourself then.”
Nagito looked absolutely mortified.
Instead, you turned back toward the rest of the club with an irritated clap of your hands.
“Everybody else keep stretching before I make this morning worse for all of you.”
Groans immediately followed.
The gym doors slammed open.
A loud wheezing breath echoed through the hall before Kazuichi Soda stumbled inside looking catastrophically late already.
“Sorry- sorry- my alarm-”
You stared at him flatly.
“You are thirty minutes late.”
“You better start explaining while running laps.”
“And now you’re leaving again. Move.”
__________________________________
Hope u enjoued this cuz I had a draft laying around although it's like a chat fic kinda thing in an au where Nagito ur ur clingy ass roommate and u work at an office and kazuichi is interested in you so I thought I might as well repurpose it into this 😛
Took me way too long to write, I haven't even proof read sooo hopefully everything makes sense in the end... I might add a third part of the 2nd part isn't enough but obvi depends
Dental nursing is killing me tho, I got no time for myself so god knows when the next one will drop 🫡🫡
A. Nagito tries fitting into the sports club
Awkward bonding, trying way too hard to seem normal, getting bullied by the club members while secretly only caring about getting closer to [Name] + after-school conversations, weird tension, Nagito acting increasingly strange when he gets alone time with [Name]
B. Full Nagito weirdo POV
-> obsessive thoughts, keeping little details about [Name], overanalysing every interaction.
Aor B
Voting ended onMay 13
