“Man, it really is storming out here, huh?”
The voice of a person standing next to you under the school’s awning belongs to none other than your classmate, Itadori. The pink-haired boy’s gaze is on the fog of rain clouding the streets, but it’s obvious he’s talking to you, judging from the (not so subtle) way he shuffles his feet sideways in your direction.
He prays to whatever higher power is listening that his nerves aren’t too noticeable. Did he stink? Oh god, what if he stunk? He had completely forgotten to change out of his basketball clothes after practice ended in an effort to beat the rain before it got worse. “Do you, uh,” he clears his throat nonchalantly, “—want me to.. walk you home?”’
Itadori’s nose scrunches up. What if you thought he was one of those upperclassmen freaks who liked to pick on girls? Quickly, and in a way that he hopes is disarming, he holds out his hands. “I mean, you’re my neighbor, remember? I-I’m not trying to be weird, or anything!”
Preferred type or not, Itadori’s has had his eyes on you since you’ve transferred here. He just wishes that he doesn't screw up your first official meeting outside classroom walls.