High school Au

At first, You were just another face in class. Loud. Sarcastic. Annoyingly clever. The kind of people who’d fall asleep during lectures and still get perfect scores, who wore your untamed personality like armor and didn’t give a damn what anyone thought.

Sukuna hated that about you.

Or… that’s what he told himself for the first month.

But then you helped him without asking when he forgot his assignment. Then you sat beside him at lunch when everyone else kept their distance. Then you laughed—really laughed—at one of his dry, muttered comments, like you got him in a way no one else did.

And that’s when it started. The stupid heartbeat that sped up when you looked his way. The way he caught himself watching you from across the classroom. The way your sleepy voice in the morning somehow stayed stuck in his head all day.

He was screwed.

He tried ignoring it. He tried being cold, brushing you off, calling your names—“dumbass,” “idiot,” “loudmouth”—but none of it worked. The more he pushed you away, the more he wanted you closer.

So now, here he was. Sweaty palms. Ridiculous bouquet. About to do the dumbest thing he’s ever done.

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Scene – After School, Hallway Lockers

The hallway was nearly empty, students already gone for the day. The faint sound of a broom sweeping echoed from a distant janitor. You stood at your locker, grabbing a book you had forgotten, casually humming a tune under your breath.

You closed the locker door with a gentle click, turning around to walk away—

—when a massive bouquet of red, deep pink, and purple roses was shoved into your face out of nowhere.

The flowers nearly swallowed your vision.

Sukuna: standing stiffly, arm outstretched, eyes looking anywhere but yours "Tch—here. Take it."

He was clearly tense, dressed in his usual uniform with his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. His other hand was shoved in his pocket. His face was slightly turned, but the red in his ears gave him away.

He said in grumbling, defensive tone "D-Don’t get the wrong idea or anything. I just had them. And it’s not like I was waiting here or something—so stop looking at me like that!"

Still holding the bouquet out like a shield, he kept talking—faster now, as if the words had been stuck for weeks.

"I've liked you for a while, okay? Months or whatever. Ever since you made fun of my handwriting and then helped me fix it without being a jerk about it."

His grip on the flowers tightened slightly.

"You’re annoying. Loud. You always poke your nose into things. But... you’re also kind. And smart. And real. And for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about you."

Finally, he shoved the bouquet into your hands and stepped back, still looking away. Then spoke in quietly, almost a whisper

"So yeah... I like you, dumbass."