#it always surprises me that we never learned about aoi or akane or teru or mei in the anime

[comfied-chriterature]

It is such a CRIME that the tbhk anime doesn't have a second season

Like it gets so INTERESTING after the hell of mirrors arc?????? It adds so much complexity to characters with such a minor role in the anime and to the relationships of the well-established ones!!!! The comedy/horror/angst/romance elements are amplified by leagues and you just have way more to yap about

The only characters we rlly get to learn about in s1 are the toilet trio and Mitsuba and it is such a shame that so many compelling charas are getting slept on bc the anime hasn't made it to the good stuff yet!! Where is our season 2 and/or the restart we were promised!!!!

[unlockthelore]

a quick intermission

Part 8 of Know-It-All a.k.a the modern AU snippet series that no one asked for. To find other parts of the series, follow the know-it-all tag.

If anyone had told Nene that she would be lying on a well-worn couch in a bookstore on a school night with the boy that she’d been nursing a tentative crush on in her arms, she would’ve told them her fantasies were wild but not that wild. 

And yet, here she was with Yugi Amane curled up with his head resting in her lap and his face pressed against her lower stomach. The hem of her shirt damp with his tears and guilt wrenching her heart that he cried. 

Enough to exhaust himself. Her fingers tangled in dark hair, lightly scratching over his scalp and behind his ears, the slightest brush to his nape making him shiver. It crossed her mind a few time before but he was always so sensitive to touch. Especially when it came to hugs. 

He always preferred to initiate them rather than being caught in them. A lesson that Kou learned the hard way when Amane evaded him again and again, refusing to have his arms pinned to his sides and jumping at surprises. An unspoken rule that if Amane was going to be touched — he should be the one to initiate it. Nene stilled her fingers in his hair, easing her fingers away, dark strands slipping from between her fingertips as she held her hand in front of her. 

What made her different? 

Different enough that he would lower his walls and drop his cheshire grin enough to let her see his tear-streaked face. It was a sight she never wanted to bear witness to again but in that moment — it felt as if she were seeing the real Amane. Someone who was afraid of being rejected, guarded by walls fortified with barbed wire and a silver tongue sharper than any knife, and so lonely. Was there a way for her to help him so that he wouldn’t feel like this anymore? 

Traitorously, she thought that he brought it on himself because of the confession from before but the bitterness that lingered was gone. No purpose in holding onto it. Amane wasn’t like the boys that confessed to her on a dare or simply to get her to do what they wanted. After he comforted her, he stuck by her side. Apologized profusely, kept his distance until she was ready to extend her hand to him.

In those weeks, she missed his touchiness. Familiarity in the way he’d sing her name and take her hands. It was odd seeing him reach for her then pull away as if he’d been burned. Waiting until she cradled his hand in hers, lacing their fingers and pulling him closer. How’d she miss the way that his eyes lit up like someone lit a flame in him that’d been going out?

Or how bright his smile was when she tipped her head, quietly gesturing for him to come closer and hug her as tight as he wanted. When it felt as if they were finally back on track. 

We are back to where we should be, aren’t we, Amane? 

Or were they walking onto a new road. This time, together. This time, honestly. 

His cries had settled a half hour ago and if not for the idle brush of his fingers against her back, she would’ve thought that he fell asleep there. 

“Yashiro…” Amane whispered, voice rough and hollow, likely weary from the sheer amount of emotion he displayed. 

Her fingers pressed to the underside of his chin, tipping his head to the side so their eyes met. 

“You called me Nene, Amane…” She smiled as he blushed, admiring the color as it filled his cheeks. “Want to try again?”

He swallowed thickly, averting his gaze from hers, his eyes half-lidded and expression so shy that it almost caught her by surprise. In a quiet voice as he shuffled to lie on his back, he said, “Nene…” 

And it was unfair.

Where did he get off being that cute out of nowhere? Nene thought about whining and protesting about this but it would only break the moment. This peaceful moment where her fingers traced along Amane’s jaw, and he leant against the touch. His eyes half-lidded and drifting shut, tension easing from his frame when he practically melted against her. It was like watching him come undone bit by bit. Snuggling closer to her stomach, sighing contentedly with that little smile that was so fragile and rare that she thought it only existed in stories.

Amane’s real smile.

Her palm cupped his cheek, thumb brushing beneath his eye as she cradled his head against her. Reaching up with her free hand to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

“What are we going to do now, Amane?”

“Huh?” Amane mumbled, his lips parting and eyes opening fractionally, dazed with a slight flush to his skin. As if he hadn’t heard her at all and was in his own little world. Nene sighed, utterly fond of that look but they did need to talk.

“About us…” Nene clarified, watching the realization dawn on his face gradually. “About this.”

For a moment, Amane said nothing. His gaze transfixed on her face, searching her eyes for something, and whether he found it or not she wouldn’t know. As if he’d become aware of where he was, he eased himself upright, brushing her hand aside and sitting upright beside her. The couch cushion sinking with their combined weight, his pants leg brushing against her thigh as he shifted close to her with just the barest hint of space between them.

“Oh…” He finally muttered, tangling his fingers in his hair and combing it back. It was getting longer, she noticed. Would he let her cut it again this time or would he just let it grow? 

Amane glanced at her then looked ahead of him, muttering softly. “Being honest is a… good start, I guess…”

Nene almost wanted to pinch his cheek. Honesty is what would’ve kept them from being on this road in the first place. Rolling her eyes with a slight huff, she looked away as her cheeks puffed with the breath she held. Amane’s worried face visible from the corner of her eye. It was difficult to stay miffed with him even if she was just kidding around. With a defeated sigh, Nene set her hands in her lap and looked at him dead-on.

“I told Mei and Aoi about… this,” she admitted, and smiles apologetically. “Are you mad?”

Amane stared at her for a long while then sighs, hiking his shoulders with a slight shake of the head. “I’d be a hypocrite if I was…” He scratched his cheek, the corner of his lips twitching up into a half-hearted smile. “I kinda told Kou and if he knows then Mitsuba knows and if Aoi knows…”

Nene nodded sympathetically. “Akane knows.”

“And the only person who shouldn’t know is…” Amane lowered his hand with a slight shudder.

Looking at one another, they spoke at the same time. “Teru.”

Amane’s eyes crinkled at the corners and laughter bubbled up in Nene’s chest as they dissolved into giggling and leaning against one another once their laughter became too much. Her cheek pillowed against his quivering shoulders, faint glow from the lamps making the world around him fuzzy. The curve of his smile and the way his eyes were more orange than brown, like the sun setting. His hair was getting too long, brushing against his eyelashes with every blink.

“Nene..?” Amane’s voice was much closer and quieter, snapping her out of her stupor when she noticed they were practically nose to nose.

She squeaked and practically threw herself backward, wincing as she collided with the arm rest. A loud clatter coming from the floorboards and she winced. Her phone was sitting there, wasn’t it? Hopefully the screen wasn’t cracked or anything. Leaning over, she reached down for the device, both grateful that she wasn’t looking at Amane and also wishing she was.

“So, what’re we…” Nene asked again, brushing her fingers against the back of her cellphone before scooping it up in her palm, bringing it close to her chest.

“Well, I know that you love me…” Amane said, and her head whipped around, ruby eyes meeting sunset-colored ones and the wide smile on his face softened. “Since you sang it at me.”

He was so close. One of his hands resting on the back of the couch while the other was perched upon his knee but he was practically pressed against her side, his gaze searching her own. There was something almost vulnerable there and she wasn’t sure what he saw but having him that close was not good for her heart.

As his words caught up to her, she sputtered.“Wh—” Swatting at his chest,  Nene pouted. “I-I just… it was symbolic!”

And romantic if she was honest. Singing to someone to confess your feelings happened all the time in the movies she liked. Although, it normally didn’t happen when they were sleep-deprived from studying too much. Something that she still had to scold him over but not when he was grinning at her like that.

“Ooooh, symbolic?”

“Yeah, because.. you.. you said you loved me when you sang it to me…”

Her heart hammered against her chest as he eased closer and the arm rest pressed against her back. She almost missed the other Amane but this one wasn’t bad either.  But this one was…

Yashiro, I love you. Go out with me.

Her heart ached and she curled her fingers into fists, tucking her chin as she asked quietly. “Didn’t you?”

Amane’s smile fell almost immediately and his eyes widened. The hand on the couch back shifting and Nene glanced at it as it came closer to her, brushing against her hair, gently lifting the ashen locks and tucking them behind her ear. “Yeah…” Amane whispers as if he was telling her a secret, his fingertips brushing against her cheek, soothing the heat gathering behind her eyes. “Yeah, I did.”

Pressure built behind her eyes and she sniffed, rubbing the heel of her hand against her eyes. Dull panging aches in her chest eased as Amane framed her face in his hands, pressing and tipping her head up. His own eyes seemed wet as if he were going to cry but kept it at bay. She wanted to tell him that it was okay to cry but trusting her voice was beyond her right now. 

“How about we stay away from the labels for now?” Amane offered, pressing their foreheads together as he wiped away the stray tears at the corner of Nene’s eyes. She couldn’t figure it out. She was happy so why was she crying?

If Amane was confused by it, he didn’t say. Carefully wiping away her tears, his voice soft and warm.

“You love me, and I love you…” He whispered, emphasizing the last three words with a light press of his lips to her cheek. Nene’s heart skipping a beat as she forced her eyes open, staring up at him helplessly. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Easing his hands from her face, her cheeks felt cold where he last touched and she shuddered.

Amane lifted his hand, offering his pinky to her with a hopeful smile and watery eyes. “So, stay by my side until then?”

Nene’s heart stammered. Whatever she said next could make or break everything that was between them. This path, this step that they were on, it was shaky and Amane was already there. Worried and open-handed, waiting for her to come to his side. Just like the thieves who made off with the princess in the stories.

He wouldn’t make her go.

Amane was too kind for that.

And she didn’t want to stay like this. On another page of their story , away from him.

“Okay,” Nene muttered, linking their pinkies and holding onto him tight.