Chapter Text
Yukio watched it happen. As usual, stupid kids were play fighting during break. If one of the teachers ever found out about it they would probably get detention, but no one ever was in the classroom when they needed to be.
Yukio observed with little interest like the other normal kids, but eventually his attention was drawn to the movement of the group. They were bumping into desks and knocking pencil bags to the ground, some students getting up and moving away from them.
A sarcastic call out was on the tip of his tongue when one of the boys pushed the other a little too hard, and into an unsuspecting student. He heard a familiar yelp, ever so quiet but his ears were attuned, and jerked his eyes to where everyone in the room was staring.
The reckless student was apologizing and trying to help Handa up, waving his hands frantically about in the air, but he wasn’t responding. The fangirls and ‘Handa Squad’ were getting loud and upset, and with their usual carelessness they failed to notice what was happening.
Handa was visibly shaking, and his face was dazed and panicked. Almost immediately, Yukio knew that this wasn’t like the other times. There were no frantic thoughts bleeding off his face, no reactions other than instinctual shock. The boy trying to help was just crowding and making things worse, and if he didn’t do something something regrettable was going to happen.
Letting his stronger side loose, which he rarely ever did, he stood and slammed his hand loudly onto the top of the desk. The deep thumping sound made everyone go quiet, all eyes on him. His fringe hung over his face, casting shadows onto his eyes, and those near him inched away.
“Do not follow us,” He started. “Tell the teacher what happened and resume class as usual. Your actions are beyond apology, and I don’t want to hear your voices any more today. Got it?”
He delivered the message in a dark voice, ending in an almost-growl, and the class nodded frantically. The average student’s personality had made a complete 180, and his aura was dark and fierce.
Now free from distractions, Yukio went and slowly kneeled next to Handa on the classroom floor. Taking a breath, he quickly but softly placed his palm over Handa’s eyes and slipped his other arm around to pull their bodies together.
The slightly younger boy tensed impossibly further before sinking with a whimper-like sound. Blackness consumed his vision and the world had gone silent except for a voice coaching him, helping him take slow, deep breaths.
He allowed his posture to slacken, focusing on the voice, and started to feel more comfortable than he had been in a long time. As the world became weightless, he sank towards the new warmth.
No one stopped Yukio from leaving the classroom, Handa in his arms as though he weighed nothing at all. He immediately changed direction towards the infirmary, hoping that the nurse would at least let them use a bed for the rest of the school day.
When he entered, muttering the proper mannerisms, he gently set his charge down onto one of the many empty cots and looked around. The room was deserted, but after listening past Handa’s small keening sounds he heard bustling noises from the back room.
He wandered over and knocked, waiting a second before the person on the other side heard him and paused their commotion. The door slid aside, and a shorter blonde in a white lab coat smiled at him.
“What can I do for you sweetie?” She asked. He led her over to the cot, and a look of recognition passed over her eyes. Giving him another smile, this one more apologetic, she gathered some things from around the room.
She came over and strapped a mask over Handa’s face, pure oxygen pumping through to help him breath. He settled, and she put some objects in his hands; a stress ball, some sort of cube with different textures, and spinning rings.
As he slipped into the relaxed state Yukio had coaxed him into before, the nurse turned back to him and let out a breath.
“Thanks for bringing him in,” She glanced back. “This seems to be happening a lot more often now.”
“He’s been here before?”
“Unfortunately, quite a bit. Can I trust you?”
She pierced him with her eyes, and he gulped. But as he thought, his weird protective instincts kicked in and he knew he needed to figure out how to help his classmate. So he nodded.
“Sei is one of the students I have on file because of special circumstances.”
“Special circumstances?”
“He suffers from anxiety and paranoia, and most of it stems from the students’ adoration for him, which he misinterprets.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.”
“It’s been getting worse as of late, and I have a large favour to ask of you, now that I’ve told you this and you understand. I need you to be his knight.”
Yukio gave her a puzzled stare. The emotion behind her words was frightfully sincere, and it felt as if she was forcing some sort of responsibility on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it.
“Knight?”
“It’s hard to describe…” She paused thoughtfully. “He needs a bodyguard, a shield, a protector. Someone who can be there to support him and prevent these episodes. I think the person he needs is you.”
He opened his mouth and then closed it, a protest on the tip of his tongue. It sounded surreal, like when an adult told a child fantasies to make them do chores without a fuss. But something within him, that fire that he very rarely let loose, told him that he wanted to do this.
Though he was a simple student, a nobody, he felt a connection to Handa as though he was a poetic fangirl. Despite his rational mind’s distaste, he raised his eyes.
“I’ll do it.”