Amusing Beginnings.

amusing beginnings.

premise: the dramatic prelude of a tale spun by the workings of fate, weaved with strings of scarlet linking futures untold. this is a story of innocence, of unforeseen encounters offering no clue of a romance that will blossom much, much later — this is how you begin together, yet there is no telling if there will ever be a proper conclusion for the prose you call love.

or, plainly speaking, a series of meet-cute scenarios i am far too lazy dedicating individual fics for. i just wanted to sound smart about it.

includes: xiao & itto !

xiao, a friend from an mmo game

moving to a different town and entering a new school in the middle of the year... are inconvenient. friend groups within the class had already been established, and badgering your seatmate to put up with your presence during lunch break or free time outside of lessons when you just don't click together as friends doesn't sound very appealing.

it doesn't help that you aren't extroverted, bumbling and awkward as you try to interact with others more. but if you don't want to feel like a loser for the entire year, you'd have to exert some effort to make friends.

so when you hear about a multiplayer game everyone's been raving about, you thought that was your chance to fit in — after all, if you had common interests with your classmates, couldn't you invite them to play together or something?

thus, you download the game, lament the astronomical numbers of space it took up in your storage, and experiment with the controls until you get more familiar with them.

except some high-leveled assholes who have nothing better to do keep killing your poor level 1 in-game character, armed with a dull sword, starter equipment, and flimsy armor that had no way to defend against level 41 fire blasts, and wait until you respawn to do it all over again. with this hindering your progress, you couldn't complete the main quest in order to advance to the next area.

they taunt you in the world chat, too obnoxiously prideful for someone miserable enough to pick on amateurs, and that's when he appears:

geared in what looks like expensive armor, equipped with rare weapons retrieved from the highest difficulty of dungeons, his name written in bright front and his level, 174, just above it. alatus, his ID reads.

it takes him no more than one move to wipe them all out.

what are you doing? he types in the world chat. hurry up and go before they respawn.

thank you so much!!!!! you reply with a flurry of exclamation points and emotes, shocked that you'd run into someone so high leveled right off the bat. the other players in the server watching the spectacle seem to think he's intimidating and steered clear of him, making a wide circle around you.

though he told you to hurry up, he lingers by your side, almost like he's guarding you. he escorts you all the way until you finish the main quest, not speaking a word and only silently killing surrounding enemies too high for your level.

you wonder if it would be too cheeky of you to send a friend request; he's one of the best in the server, boasting all kinds of achievements and artifacts in his player profile. why would he be interested in befriending a newbie like you?

you're terrible at this, he sends in the chat. this is the first i've seen anyone flubbing basic attacks. don't just press any button you see.

you cringe. his words are harsh but truthful. you kept pressing the wrong buttons to dodge and always receive the brunt of the attacks.

however, you pause when a notification flashes on your screen: player alatus has sent you a friend request! accept or decline?

jolting, you scramble to click accept, lest he take it back last minute. can he even do that? whatever. following that is a present from a friend sent to your mailbox, a pair of level 50 dual blades and defensive armor. they pale in comparison to his current gear, but they're plenty powerful for normal players, especially for an amateur who barely just reached level 7 after grinding some missions (and with help).

old equipment. needed to clear out my inventory, he adds, as if he doesn't want you to get the wrong idea.

you've lost track for the amount of times you've thanked him in the past hour or so, and you try to send more exclamation points and different emotes so you wouldn't appear like a broken record. though i appreciate everything, can i ask you why you're helping a new player like me? you ask tentatively, eager to hear his answer.

there isn't much else you can do at this level. that's all there is to it. and you were pitiful.

...kind of pretentious, but okay...

can i play with you again some other time? you type before the thought of wanting to do so even registers in your mind. not just so you can help me. it's been really fun spending time with you!!!

three minutes of silence pass. your confidence to reach out and make friends shriveled up and died.

sure.

then, later, i usually play at evening or at midnight. our schedules might not line up.

there's no problem! i stay up most nights, too!

then i'll see you some other time. i'm logging off.

relief crashes over you, only dwindling when alatus has gone offline. he was fine with being friends... and promised to play together again in the future... well, maybe not promise, but something like it, and that's enough.

--

the months fly by, and opposed to your prior concerns, you fit in class just fine. playing the mmo game to have a common interest with your classmates was the right move, and it had opened ways for you to connect with others more through other similar hobbies.

but even after you achieved your goal, you didn't drop the game. you're not the most avid player, but you grind dungeons a normal amount, clearing time-limited events if you find them entertaining enough.

it's mostly just to spend time with alatus, though.

alatus, or xiao as you later learned after you exchanged your real names, is quite the charmer. not that you've ever seen his face; he is just... cute, in general. he appears gruff and intimidating, but really, he's an awkward guy who can't act soft because it's “undignified.”

you think he is sweet and kind, though you'll never say it to his face since it'll only make him feel embarrassed. not only does he come to save you each time you tell him you're having a hard time defeating a boss in your private chat, and he gives away precious weaponry and potions to you exclusively as if any other player wouldn't willingly hand over all their gold just to get a piece of it, he makes a great listener.

you have a bad habit of rambling and getting immersed in your thoughts at late hours of the night. you speak of your insecurities, your weaknesses, your fears, and he listens even if he doesn't type a reply all throughout your flood of messages. he keeps his response concise, but they're thoughtful advice, ones that you take into heart. he's a comforting figure, regardless of being a stranger behind a screen.

sometimes, you like to think you're sorta the same for him. xiao isn't as straightforward as you when he wants company, but he asks if you can stay online longer than usual, just to talk or to do the more relaxing tasks in the game. he trusts you to an extent, enough to offer exchanging real names at least.

enough to ask you to marry him.

your in-game character, of course! what else could that possibly mean?! okay, so you may have nearly fallen out of your chair in shock when he sent you a marriage proposal through chat of all things, but that's all it means! nothing more!

there was a couples-exclusive event dungeon, and the loot was desirable. some beautiful skins for pure cosmetic, and also a power-enhancing ring that you couldn't find anywhere else. xiao, the game nerd that he is, couldn't pass it up.

so yeah. technically, you can say you married him.

it was a hot topic at some point. alatus was one of the best players in the server, notorious for his aversion to cooperating with others, and he hadn't married anyone despite all the rewards you could reap with the marriage function.

then there's you, level 47, not especially skilled in anything, not especially appealing in your character's outward appearance, and not especially... notable. the very meaning of an average player, so to speak. he specifically chose you, but nobody could understand why.

well. whatever. the marriage is old news already. the present hottest news is the huge gaming convention to come in two weeks. fans are hyping it up and you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited too. in fact, your friends already made plans with you to come on a weekend.

when you talk to xiao about it, there's a rare moment of hesitance before he types out a reply, almost like the times where he gets nervous before asking you a favor.

are you going too? you ask, grinning to yourself.

yeah, he answers back. a minute and a half of silence.

then, startlingly, do you want to meet up?

you've always doubted the feasibility of choking on air before, but after experiencing it firsthand, you learn that anything really is possible. including meeting the elusive guy you've had a massive crush on, no matter how unlikely it seemed.

--

you are severely late.

but! for good reason! you'd hate to look like a hobo, so you made sure to dress nicely! ...maybe too nicely for a gaming convention where everyone will be sweaty and icky, but better prepared than sorry!

somehow, i'm not even surprised, reads xiao's text — yes! you exchanged numbers! — and you can picture him scoffing at the other end. don't rush and trip in the middle of running. i'm not going anywhere.

you ignore the way your heart skips a beat at that and focus on getting there safely. he said to do just that, after all. but while waiting at the crosswalk, you wonder what xiao really looks like... would he be tall and scary? or unexpectedly soft and cute?

in all honesty, you should've sent pictures of yourselves to identify each other easier at the venue, but against your better judgment, you suggested only describing your attire and keeping your appearances a secret because the mystery is “fun” and it'd be nicer to see each other for the first time face to face. (you've only been trying to prolong your inevitable death, because whatever he looks like, you're bound to fall deeper anyway.)

i'm here, you text to him, beginning to anxiously look around your surroundings. he said to meet up at the entrance, and there are more people than you expected...

i'll find you. stay by the first advertisement banner at the front.

alright!

you bite your lip, clammy hands holding your phone tightly. you're a lot more nervous than you thought you would be. did you look okay? you've asked your friends over and over again if you looked presentable, enough times to annoy them, probably. you styled your hair differently too... you wonder if it looks weird. xiao said he would be wearing a green jacket and dark pants, and he had piercings in his ear, and then you can't remember what else because oh my god, what does xiao look like with piercings in his ear.

you snap out of your thoughts when a path opens up in front of you. first, there are disgruntled noises from people being pushed away, then they disappear like wisps of smoke the second after. quiet gasps of surprise come from the group of girls nearby, and if you had to guess, it would likely be a good-looking cosplayer passing by.

the figure stops in front of you, sneakers in your line of sight where you stare blankly at the floor. slowly, your eyes rake up — dark fitting jeans, a trail of silver chains disappearing under the hem of a green jacket, a white shirt printed with dragons...

you're reluctant to glance anywhere higher above the line of his neck.

“[name]?”

fuck.

it's him.

you take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. then you look up, properly.

you see golden eyes, specks of stars glittering in his irises.

his skin is pale, pink from the warm sun. his lips are pink too, a traitorous part of your mind marvels, slightly parted in surprise and shaped around an o. his hair is dark, tied up into a messy ponytail, sharp tips dyed in teal poking his cheek, framing the sides of his face.

oh no. he's hot.

he is so hot.

and he's staring at you.

“x... xiao?” your voice comes out strangled. embarrassingly. oh god. you are so fucked.

his face grows redder, and he scratches his cheek. “...that's me.”

silence.

you have to say something.

“do you... want to go outside?” he coughs into a fist. “the event has already started.”

“uh, yeah! sure! of course!” you ramble, walking past him in the hopes you wouldn't make a bigger fool of yourself. your face looks weird, surely. “i can't wait to see the cosplayers! they're also announcing a new chapter for the main story today, aren't th-”

“wait.”

he catches your wrist. you stop breathing, at risk of choking on air again.

“it's crowded.” his hand curls tighter. oh no. “don't get lost.”

“i won't, what are you talking about?” you laugh awkwardly. seeing him, hearing him, touching him, is such a strange thing.

“i wouldn't be surprised if you did.” his fingers dip lower, fitting in the spaces within yours. properly holding your hand. oh. oh. “so don't wander off without me.”

“yeah.” you're positively breathless. “yeah. i won't.”

he squeezes your hand. you're not looking at him directly, but you see him tilting his head at the corner of your eye. “...no complaints about this?”

“none at all.”

“okay.” he squeezes again. carefully, tenderly. his palms are sweaty. at least that tells you you're not the only one nervous. “if you say so.”

itto, a delinquent in the downpour

arataki itto is an idiot.

an idiot who keeps picking fights with people he can't beat, and kujou sara tells him off for it. an idiot who grabs the last piece of fried chicken on the table, agrees to thoma's proposal for a battle of rock-paper-scissors to get it, only for itto to lose each time. an idiot who bets on his entire deck of trading cards in his beetle fights, never truly realizing the risk until he'd already lost everything to kamisato ayato.

but arataki itto doesn't regret.

he doesn't regret trying to beat kujou sara even if it's his loss in the end, because she doesn't look down on him for losing and his friends are always there to patch him up. he doesn't regret doing rock-paper-scissors with thoma, because thoma would end up sharing the piece of chicken anyway. he doesn't regret betting on his deck, because ayato is never greedy, and he will always, always give it back to itto and tell him to try better next time.

arataki itto doesn't regret it this time either, even if he doesn't gain anything. even when he's battered and bruised, drenched in the rain, slumped against a wall in the middle of a dark alley. even when the boy he just saved from money-grubbing hooligans didn't spare him another look nor gave him any word of thanks, left him to fend for himself when the men's hostility had already been directed at him. never called for help, either, just allowed him to be outnumbered in a fight, and as strong itto is, there's no way he can beat five bulky guys on his own.

he doesn't regret, but it stings a little.

his entire body prickles with hurt, but at the same time he's unfeeling, numb in the cold rain. his line of sight is getting blurry, too, blobs of color instead of people darting past, streetlights small bright spots like fireflies.

he tries to open his mouth to ask for help, but that stings too. a busted lip, maybe. his voice is feeble, silent in his own ears. it can't be heard over the pouring rain. he tries to sit up straighter, but the effort to nudge his shoulder back exhausts all his energy. he wants to reach out a hand at least, but before he can even try, his body won't listen to him. his eyes close against his wishes.

he knows for sure he isn't too deep in the alley. can't anybody see him? or are they deliberately ignoring him because they don't want trouble? there's nothing wrong with that, really. not everyone has the time to help, or the bravery to approach a big guy covered in wounds. he understands. but he still hopes anyway.

ah, it's cold. the brick wall behind him is rough. his clothes are uncomfortable, sticking to his skin like this.

he forces his eyes open. there, he sees a pair of shoes, forming ripples across puddles when they step closer.

they halt.

they turn the opposite direction.

they leave him alone.

(he doesn't notice the umbrella they leave behind.)

--

he wakes up to someone patting his cheek. someone is speaking, but everything is muddled. it's still cold, and his back is still resting against the brick wall. but there's no rain anymore, only the pitter-patter sound when it hit the pavement.

he wonders how long he'd been shielded away from it.

“...llo... can... stand...”

stand. do they want him to stand? he's afraid that's too much to ask for.

the rain covers him again, icy drops falling on his skin. warmth overlaps with the frost, grabbing his arm, curling it around... something. he's being lifted up. not very effectively, but they're trying.

so he tries his best too. shifting his weight, blinking his eyes open, staying awake. they take him somewhere. it's dry, and when they push him over, it's to a plush seat. they don't complain when he leans his head on their shoulder, possibly soaking their clothes with his wet hair. he has to apologize, but sleep overtakes him.

itto doesn't remember much after that. just a hand on his forehead for some time, parts of his body wiped and wrapped in gauze. a blanket tucked carefully around him, fingertips brushing by his shoulders before they leave.

--

when he fully comes to, the first thing that registers to his mind is a room full of white. white sheets, white ceilings, white curtains. then a head of blue hair, standing by the window.

“oh, you're awake!” ayato exclaims, beyond relieved. “i was surprised when i picked up your call and it was someone else speaking. good thing they rushed you to the hospital, huh?”

“someone took me here?” itto asks, sitting up. “where are they?”

“they took off after i arrived. said they were late to an interview because they had to stay here... ah. that must've meant they probably didn't get the job...” he murmurs, grimacing. “i should've asked for their number so we can thank them properly. no point trying to find them now, though.”

but itto saw them. not very clearly, but he remembers kind eyes glazed in worry, a shirt partly soaked through, and a silver star hanging from their necklace.

arataki itto was never especially smart, but if anything, he is stubborn, and if he put his mind to it, he can do anything.

--

“isn't there any part-time job out there that doesn't pay minimum wage?”

“what? you saving up for something?”

“summer vacation is coming, you know! vacation trips aren't going to pay for themselves,” you sigh, burying your face in your folded arms.

“it's not like you have a boyfriend to spend it with.”

“can't i go on a vacation with friends?”

“and who are these friends you speak of? everyone is dating somebody. they're probably too busy,” she retorts, looking envious. “even xiao has someone when all he does is play games everyday.”

you scrunch your nose. “damn those happy idiots...”

“that aside, i thought you found a good part-time job? you didn't get it?”

hearing that, you turn even gloomier. “i didn't tell you? i blew it. i came late on the interview, and that didn't make a very good first impression. plus i looked horrible from the rain.”

“hm. find a rich boyfriend, then.”

“like who...?”

“kamisato ayato from the other department?” your friend suggests, grinning. “he's good looking. his sister is pretty too, i saw them walking together once.”

you snort. “way out of my league. i'm better off not hoping.”

“don't be like that~ i heard he was going to attend the next mixer. thoma told me himself-”

the door to the lecture hall opens, interrupting your conversation. “is [name] here?” a voice queried, rough and a tad bit too loud.

“right he-”

your friend slaps a hand over your mouth frantically, turning you away from the door. “what are you doing?!”

“what?” you blink up at her, whispering, “he's asking for me, isn't he?”

“didn't you see who it was?” she hisses, shielding you from view. “arataki itto! the one who beat up a senior on his first day as a freshman, remember?!”

arataki itto?

doesn't ring a bell.

“come on, that's just a ridiculous rumor, isn't it?” you wave her off, laughing. “wasn't kazuha rumored to have a criminal record at some point? you should know better than to believe them. so don't worry and let go of me, i'm sure he's not-”

your eyes flit to his sharp eyes, gleaming with intent, and his muscular build that could probably crush your skull with a single hand.

“...going to kill me...” your voice trails of too a whisper, face paling in horror. “on second thought, please be my meat shield?”

“[n-name] is over there!” a terrified classmate points in your direction the moment itto turns to glance at him inquisitively. a snitch! a tattletale! you're never lending him your notes ever again. given that you live another day, that is.

“oh. thanks.”

how polite! thanking him for his contribution in your likely murder!

“wait wait wait, what does he want with me?!” you shrink further behind your friend, but there is no escape. he can see you peeking over her shoulder.

“shouldn't you know that?! did you piss him off or something?!”

“i don't know! i've never seen him before!” you cried. you really haven't! you swear you have nothing to do with him! you don't deal with people who look like trouble! sure you might have dragged a delinquent to the hospital a few weeks before, but he was unconscious and defenseless! he could barely stand! this guy can punt you off to mars!

“you're [name], right?” his eyes sparkle with recognition, just an arm's width away from you now. your friend, traitor that she is, silently moves away.

an involuntary squeak is punched out of your lungs. “y... yes, that's me,” you respond meekly, attempting a wobbly smile. “did you need me for something?”

itto clears his throat, expression similar to that of a constipated man's. “well... that is... i was... how do i say this...”

the deafening silence stretches for what seems like hours. the back of your neck prickles at the attention, everyone's eyes focused solely on the pair of you. you can't read him at all. what kind of offense did you do that he had to come to you like this?

“ah, dang it, 'm not good at things like this...” he grumbles, scratching his head.

eh? what is he not good at? public execution? no, no, he wouldn't go that far right?

“so, what i'm trying to say is-!”

he flails about, thrusting out the hands he'd been hiding behind his back. a bouquet of pink roses, delicate and small, is curled within his grasp. your eyes widen, taken aback, turning even wider when you see the way his cheeks redden, entire face aflame, fingers trembling nervously. his face, pinched tight with restless energy, is nothing but earnest and sincere.

“i admire you a lot! i...” he takes an intake of breath. “i would like to court you!”

and, ever so eloquently, you respond with, “wuh?”