Chapter Text
Toge decided that moving should come with a legally mandatory nap afterwards.
He stood just outside Dorm C with two suitcases digging painfully into his palms, the plastic handles pressing sharp crescents into skin already sore from the half-hour trek from the bus stop. His backpack sagged off his shoulder, lopsided, heavy with electronics, chargers, notebooks and “just in case” items that now felt like dead weight.
The sun hung low in the sky, warm but harsh, casting long shadows across the concrete and making the beige building in front of him look like some kind of unremarkable monolith determined to intimidate him by sheer monotony.
Dorm C. Home.
The word felt foreign in his chest.
His last college had been home once—before it wasn’t. Before the hallways seemed to narrow and the classrooms felt like cages full of too-bright lights and too-loud voices. Before familiarity carried the weight of dread and expectations.
Leaving hadn’t been dramatic, no shouting, no grand goodbyes. Just quiet resignation. And eventually, a sense of relief that he hadn’t realized he’d been craving.
This place didn’t know him yet. That was its greatest appeal.
He adjusted his grip on the suitcase, rolled his shoulders, and took a cautious step forward—
—and nearly got obliterated.
“WOAH—SORRY—!”
A blur of pink zipped past his peripheral vision, accompanied by a screech of sneakers that sounded almost cartoonish. Toge instinctively jerked back. One suitcase wobbled dangerously. He swallowed. Please don’t tip over. Please don’t tip over.
The pink-haired guy skidded to a halt inches away, bent forward with hands braced on his knees. He was breathing hard but smiling like he’d just avoided the apocalypse by mere inches.
“That was entirely my fault.” The guy said earnestly. “I was not watching where I was going. Like, at all.”
Toge blinked. Once. Twice.
Day one, he thought. And I nearly got flattened by pure energy incarnate.
He lifted his hands automatically, signing it’s okay. Habit. Reflex. The words weren’t even fully processed by his brain.
The guy’s eyes followed the motion, curiosity bright in them, not confusion or discomfort. “Oh—uh,” He said, straightening. “Sorry, I don’t know sign language.”
Of course you don’t.
Toge nodded slightly, letting his gaze wander to the nearby windows, the harsh fluorescent light spilling through the glass, bouncing off the metal rails on the stairs. The ground smelled faintly of cut grass and a hint of something metallic—maybe the building settling, maybe stress. Hard to tell.
“You good?” The guy asked, voice softening, as if worried he’d somehow caused lasting trauma.
Toge shook his head. No. Not traumatized. Slightly inconvenienced. Potentially amused.
The guy’s eyes flicked to the suitcases again, as if checking whether he could help or if they were dangerous. “Oh! You’re moving in,” He said suddenly, enthusiasm filling his tone. “Which dorm?”
Inumaki pulled his phone from his pocket, thumb hovering over the screen before typing.
‘Dorm C. Room 312.’
“No way—that’s this one!” The guy said, spinning on his heel to gesture at the building behind them. “You made it. I’m Yuuji, by the way.”
He stuck his hand out without hesitation, a wide, bright smile plastered across his face. Like offering a handshake could somehow smooth over almost-killing someone with over extreme motion.
Toge hesitated. Just a fraction of a second.
Then shook it.
Yuuji’s grip was warm, solid, and far too energetic for someone who had just nearly trampled him. Toge’s fingers flexed subtly as he released.
‘Toge.’ He typed.
“Nice to meet you, Toge!” Yuuji said, stepping back with a grin that practically radiated overconfidence. “Least I could do after almost turning you into a sidewalk is show you where your room is.”
Toge followed him inside.
The lobby smelled faintly of bleach and new carpet. It was loud in a peculiar way—the echo of footsteps amplified by the floors and high ceiling, distant chatter bouncing off every corner. Signs were posted everywhere, directions, warnings, maps, but none were particularly helpful.
Yuuji skipped ahead, gesturing here and there as he narrated. “Orientation’s been insane. You’d think a campus this size would have figured out signage by now. I got lost three times yesterday.”
Toge walked behind him, suitcase dragging slightly. The wheels caught on the edge of a crack in the floor once, scraping and making him wince. He kept his hands on the handles, eyes scanning the hallway, mentally noting every corner, every door number, every slight unstable sign.
And then Yuuji stopped so suddenly that Toge almost walked into his back.
“You know what?” Yuuji started, tapping his chin, eyes scanning the hall like he’d just uncovered a brilliant strategy. “I should help you carry your stuff.”
Before Toge could respond, Yuuji had already grabbed the larger suitcase, lifting it as if it weighed nothing.
“Hope that’s okay, “ He added, shifting the weight effortlessly, “I’ve got arms. And guilt.”
Toge stared. Long enough for a bead of sweat to tick down his temple. Then typed: I would be an idiot to refuse free labor. Thank you.
Yuuji laughed, a loud, unrestrained sound that echoed off the walls and made Toge’s stomach twitch—half amusement, half beginnings of something vaguely like apprehension.
The stairs were long, narrow, and echoing. Yuuji chatted incessantly, explaining campus landmarks, the dining hall food “either incredible or an elaborate prank”, his own frequent navigational failures. He spoke with his hands, gesturing like a conductor leading an invisible orchestra.
Toge followed silently, appreciating the space to observe. The way Yuuji moved—hands always in motion, shoulders relaxed, mouth open in constant commentary—was exhausting and fascinating at the same time. He noticed small details: how Yuuji’s sneakers squeaked differently on each stair, how his hair caught the light in a chaotic halo, how his eyebrows furrowed slightly when he was thinking but never stopped talking.
By the time they reached Room 312, Toge’s arms ached and his shoulders protested, but the tension in his chest eased.
“Mission accomplished,” Yuuji said, dropping the suitcase with a soft thunk. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a faint streak of dust.
Toge typed: Thank you. Seriously.
Yuuji waved him off, smile unwavering. “No problem. Easy peasy.”
Toge hesitated, then typed again. Let me treat you to lunch tomorrow. As thanks.
Yuuji’s eyes lit up immediately. “Free food? Absolute. Count me in.”
They exchanged times, Yuuji promising to swing by after his morning class. Then he jogged off down the hall, nearly colliding with someone else.
Toge shut the door, leaning against it, and exhaled.
Well, he thought, I’ve identified the campus hazard.
~~~~~~
The afternoon stretched quietly.
Unpacking was slower than it should have been. Clothes folded carefully, books aligned in neat rows, desk cleared and wiped with one last swipe of his hand. His panda plush got placed in the center of the bed, carefully seated as if to inspect the room for mistakes. Each box unpacked felt like an incremental claim to space, a subtle staking of territory, a declaration: this is mine now.
The quiet allowed his thoughts to wander. To dwell without spiraling. To process that leaving had been right. He could feel it—the relief settling softly, almost imperceptibly, in the absence of tension. His shoulders, heavy for months, loosened just slightly.
Eventually, hunger persisted, finally making itself impossible to ignore.
He stepped back into the hallway.
—and promptly ran into someone again.
“Oh—! Sorry!”
This time, the guy froze. Shoulders tense, hands partially raised, eyes wide, as if bracing for impact that never came.
Toge raised his hands, signing it’s okay.
The guy stared, flushed, then stammered, “Ah—sorry. I don’t know sign language.”
Truly the theme of the day, Toge thought.
He nodded and typed: No worries. You must be my roommate.
The guy’s relief was immediate. “Yeah. I’m Yuuta.”
They lingered in an awkward pause, both unsure of how long a ‘first meeting’ should last.
Yuuta cleared his throat. “Um.. have you eaten?”
Toge shook his head.
Yuuta’s brows furrowed in concern. “I haven’t either. Do you want to go to the dining hall together?”
Toge nodded.
They walked side by side down the long hallway, the sound of their footsteps filling the otherwise quiet dorm floor. The carpet muffled their movement just enough that it wasn’t loud, but every little brush of shoulders, every slight sway as they adjusted their grip on bags, felt magnified in Toge’s awareness.
Yuuta kept glancing at him from the corner of his eye, and every time their shoulders brushed, Toge’s chest tightened in a way that was not unpleasant but slightly alarming. He made a mental note: Be careful. You notice everything.
“So.. classes okay?” Yuuta asked, voice soft, tentative. “I mean, I’m still figuring out my schedule, but—” He trailed off, glancing down at his sneakers, tapping one lightly against the floor.
Toge typed: They’re fine. Nothing catastrophic yet.
Yuuta chuckled softly, and the sound was warm, like sunlight hitting bare skin after a cold morning. “Nothing catastrophic sounds good. I’ve had my fair share of catastrophes.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. His fingers lingered there for a second too long, brushing the collar of his shirt like he hadn’t quite decided what to do with them.
Shy, awkward.. but warm, Toge noted silently. His fingers hovered over his phone, thumb itching to reply, but he let the moment stretch instead.
They emerged into the open air just as the late afternoon sun started leaning low over the quad. The sky was streaked with pale orange and pink, the kind of colors that made every beige building look almost romantic by comparison.
Toge blinked once, unconsciously taking in the scenery, his chest tight with the quiet excitement of being somewhere new. Somewhere unclaimed. Somewhere he could start over.
The path to the dining hall was lined with trimmed hedges and a few stubborn patches of grass still clinging to life in winter’s grip. The faint smell of damp soil reached him, mingling with the faint aroma of cafeteria food drifting from open windows nearby.
Yuuta broke the silence. “I’ve been coming here a week and I still get lost. The signs don’t really.. help. I don’t know. Maybe I just have a bad sense of direction.” He laughed, nervously, eyes flicking to Toge.
Toge typed, watching the way Yuuta’s hands fidgeted slightly, how he adjusted the strap of his backpack every few steps.
‘You’re fine. It’s easy once you figure out the landmarks.’
Yuuta nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting in relief. “Yeah.. I guess. I just.. never remember which way to turn. Maps are useless when you panic.”
Toge smirked internally. I feel that. He kept typing short replies, careful not to overwhelm. He had learned long ago that sometimes words, even signed or typed, could be too much.
‘Landmarks, remember. You’ll be fine.’
Yuuta glanced at him, as if realizing he’d been talking too much, and ducked his head slightly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Thanks. That.. actually helps.”
They arrived at the dining hall, the air inside warm and bustling. The smell hit him immediately: fried food, spices, something sweet from the bakery corner. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, the kind of sensory chaos that made his stomach rumble in anticipation.
Yuuta pulled him along with gentle nudges toward the line. “I always go to the pasta station first. You can’t really go wrong there,” He said, scanning the menu board like a pro despite having been confused the last time he’d been there.
Toge followed, hands tucked into the straps of his backpack, observing everything: the clatter of trays, the metallic clink of cutlery, the low hum of conversation, the way the fluorescent light reflected in the polished floor. Every detail was sharp, precise, and somehow comforting in its mundanity.
“So.. what do you usually eat?” Yuuta asked, leaning slightly toward him as they both reached for trays. His fingers brushed Toge’s hand briefly, and Toge felt a spark of awareness travel up his arm. Not unpleasant. Definitely distracting.
‘Varies. Pasta is safe.’
Yuuta grinned, eyes sparkling. “Pasta is safe. Safe is good. We’ll stick with safe then.” He piled his tray carefully, balancing a bowl of spaghetti with some garlic bread and a small salad. He glanced up at Toge, expression open and curious, like he expected him to pick something weird or experimental.
Toge selected a simple pasta dish as well, noting the subtle difference in how he and Yuuta approached the line. Yuuta moved with nervous energy, fidgeting slightly with his tray, while Toge kept a quiet, measured pace, observing without comment.
They sat at a small table near the window. The late afternoon light fell in stripes across the floor, across their trays, and across Yuuta’s face. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear, a nervous habit, and Toge caught himself staring just a second too long before looking down at his phone.
‘You’re neat.’
Yuuta blinked, a faint pink creeping into his cheeks. “I.. uh.. try to be.” He mumbled. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with a napkin, the corners of his lips twitching into a shy smile.
The conversation was mostly Yuuta talking. He told Toge about his first week, his confusion with the campus map, the weird coffee machine in the student lounge that didn’t work half the time. Toge responded with short typed messages, occasionally letting his hands linger on the phone for a moment longer than necessary, appreciating the rhythm of Yuuta’s voice.
The meal passed slowly, pleasantly. They laughed quietly over small mishaps—Yuuta filling a tiny bit of salad dressing on his tray, Toge’s quiet comment about cafeteria portion sizes—and the tension of a first meeting ebbed with each passing minute.
After they finished, Yuuta stood and offered, “I can show you back to the dorm.. unless you want to wander?”
‘I would like to arrive without getting lost.’
Yuuta chuckled and fell into step beside him. They walked back slowly, shoulders brushing occasionally, both acutely aware of the small proximity. Toge noted the way Yuuta adjusted his backpack, and the shy glances he cast in his direction.
Back at the dorm, Yuuta gestured toward the bathroom. “You can shower first,” He said, voice hesitant, as if offering the bathroom were the most important decision he would make all day.
Toge nodded, retreating to the warm embrace of running water. The hot spray hit his skin, loosening tension in his shoulders, washing away the faint layer of dust and sweat. His mind wandered as he let the water run over him, replaying the day in quiet observation.
New place. New people. Unexpected kindness.
When he finally emerged, wrapped in a towel, he found Yuuta already tidying the small common area of their room, stacking discarded things neatly. The sight was oddly comforting—Yuuta’s quiet attentiveness contrasting Yuuji’s chaotic energy from earlier, giving the dorm a balanced rhythm.
‘The shower is free.’
Yuuta nodded. “Thanks,” He murmured, ducking his head slightly.
Toge changed, the soft fabric of his pajamas grounding him after a long day. He placed his panda plush carefully beside him, tucking it in against the pillows. The soft plush was reassuring, a small anchor in the midst of everything new.
He scrolled through videos on his phone, letting the quiet of the dorm settle around him. The hum of the heating, the faint squeak of the floorboards, the distant chatter from the hallways—all were strangely comforting.
As his eyes grew heavy and the videos blurred together, he let one thought linger in the quiet of his room:
Maybe this place really will be different.
And for the first time in months, he allowed himself to believe it.