Kiss The Boy [BL]

Renjiro paused. He turned his head to Yugen. "How'd you know?" He asked.

"I'm the council president, remember?" Yugen smirked, "It's my job to know all the things happening within the campus."

"Right..."

Not long after, they heard the bell chime, resonating within the building. Its echoe lingered through the quiet atmosphere between them.

Yugen exhaled, his posture relaxing slightly. "Well, guess that's our cue."

He straightened his blazer, and all traces of amusement were gone.

Renjiro gave a slow nod.

The two began walking down the corridor, their footsteps blending with fading echo of the bell.

"I'll see you later." Yugen said before he turned to another direction.

Renjiro returned to his class at the exact time. The room was already settling down, the hum of the idle chatter dying as the teacher stepped in.

When class was finally dismissed, Renjiro walked back to his dorm room. His first day of class was... exhausting, to say the least.

Not because of the lectures or the flood of new faces—but because of everything else that's happened ever since he arrived. His unexpected roommate, him almost being late, and now the feeling after a first day at class.

The corridors were quieter now, bathed in the soft glow of the late afternoon sun. A few students lingered in corners, laughing, trading stories from their summer break.

Renjiro barely noticed them. All he wanted was to shut his door, drop his bag, and rest. But there was only one thing he would like to do before anything else. It's like his personal stress reliever.

Renjiro walked over to his desk, kneeling in front of the bottom drawer. With a quick glance toward the door, he slid it open.

Inside, tucked beneath a few notebooks and a folded sweater, was a thin, colorful comic book. The cover was bright, the art style soft—two boys standing close, eyes locked in a way that made Renjiro's chest tighten just a little.

—BL manga.

He hesitated for a moment, fingertips brushing the edges. And for a few minutes. That was all he needed.

A spice of love between two boys, passionately embracing each other.

Yes, something every Fudanshi and Fujoshi enjoy, love, and want.

You might be thinking by now: What is a Fudanshi?

A Fudanshi is someone who simply enjoys BL stories for the emotional drama, character dynamics, art, or narrative style, including the most wanted-the sex scenes.

They may also apply this not just to fictional characters but to people too. For instance, a fudanshi may spot two boys together, showing quite an affection toward each other-a fudanshi may react and detect it as fast as a lightning strike.

Shipping the two male individuals may occur, making fudanshi's fantasies run wild.

They call this: Gay radar.

It's like an instinct that is activated when a fudanshi feel and witness something is going on. It doesn't matter where and when, but this radar had made Renjiro's sight be sharp as a knife—that he could sense love blooming between two boys from just a mile away.

Being a rotten girl or boy also has its disadvantages. A fujodanshi may want to invade a couple's space to find more juices from them. But would they do it?

Perhaps yes. Or not. Some fujodanshi would likely to observe a far and enjoy shipping the two boys that may potentially be a couple.

Renjiro had more or less done these things before, but unlike other fudanshi, he's quite a picky shipper.

He's the type to ship fictional characters more than real-life people. And if he ever does, they had to have strong chemistry that will prove they're suitable for each other.

Sounds complicated.

But up until now, Renjiro has not been shipping two real people. Maybe he hasn't seen any potential couple out there yet-or maybe it's just not his thing to do in the first place.

Either way, Renjiro wasn't the type to force it.

He liked his stories fictional, safe behind pages and panels. In real life, people were messier, harder to read—and the stakes? It's a little too real for his liking.

That didn't mean he wasn't observant-he noticed the way certain classmates lingered near each other or how some friends' teasing banter bordered on flirtation.

But he kept those thoughts to himself. Quiet amusement was enough

Shipping real people? Maybe next time.

Falling for one?

... He wasn't ready to think about that yet.

Renjiro exhaled roughly as he flipped a few pages of the comic. The scenes were getting quite intense for the two protagonists.

Is this the end? Can they solve the misunderstanding by then?

A lot of questions scrambled in Renjiro's mind. He held his chest, hoping it would get better at the next page.

As he was about to turn at the next scene, the door suddenly swung open.

Surprised, Renjiro jolted up almost knocking over the comic to the ground. His heart skipped a beat, and he whipped his head toward the doorway.

It was none other than Ken standing in front of the entryway. He didn't pay any attention to Renjiro sprawled comfortably on the floor.

"Jeez! Dude!" Renjiro yelled, "Can't you knock before coming in?"

Ken, who had finally noticed him, turned his head slowly and said, "Knock?" His brows almost meeting at the middle.

"Why would I knock on my own room?" Ken asked.

Renjiro barked. "Hey, this isn't just your own room now, mister!"

"Whatever." Ken sighed softly as he sat down at the edge of his bed.

He noticed something behind Renjiro. A book? Magazine?

Ken gazes up at Renjiro's face. His brows slightly furrowing as he slowly said, "Unless you were busy fapping one out."

"HUH?!"

"Just so you know, I don't allow people slipping porn mags inside my room."

At this moment, it seemed as though something had snapped within him.

Renjiro quickly refuted. "Hell no! Stop assuming I'm like any other horny student out there."

He pulled up the comic from behind him-revealing it to Ken.

"And it's not like that—they're more precious than those dirty mags." Renjiro said, cradling the book like a sacred relic.

Ken raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "You hide it like contraband."

Renjiro flushed, quickly tucking the comic back into his drawer, beneath a stack of notebooks. "You wouldn't get it. These stories-they meant something."

The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the drawer clicking shut.

A sigh slipped out of Ken's lips. He flopped onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight.

"I don't have any time to argue with you." Ken said, staring at the ceiling spinning lazily above.

Renjiro rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm out of here."

He turned on his heel and headed for the door, his footsteps muffled against the old carpet.

The door opened with a quiet creak and clicked shut behind him.

The hallway outside was colder, quieter. Renjiro shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his fingers brushing the corner of it.

He exhaled and groaned roughly.

Seriously! That guy is so annoying.

Renjiro scowled at the floor, then let out a slow, frustrated sigh.

As he was about to step forward, something caught his eye.

Far down the hallway—almost a blur in the distance—someone stood partially hidden behind the corner. Just a head, barely peeking out.

The person was familiar.

Renjiro squinted through the dim light.

That brown messy hair. That oversized cardigan.

It's definitely that one quiet classmate sitting next to him at class.

What was his name again?

The boy ducked back around the corner the moment their eyes met.

Renjiro's brows knitted. His pulse quickened—not out of fear, but confusion.

He took a cautious step forward, eyes locked on the corner.

"Hello?" He called, voice echoing off the empty walls.

But no response. Just silence... and the soft, distant sound of retreating footsteps.

That was weird.

The next day, at lunchbreak, the cafeteria buzzed with its usual enegery—students filled every table, their voices blending into a loud, chaotic hum as trays clattered and laughter echoed off the walls.

Renjiro peered over the mass of people inside, scanning the crowded cafeteria for a familiar face. The sea of students moved in waves—laughing, shouting, and jostling for space—as the scent of fried food and the din of lunchtime chatter filled the air.

Holding a tray of neatly arranged food—steamed white rice, a piece of grilled mackerel, miso soup, a small side pickled vegetables, and a carton of milk—Renjiro navigated the bustling cafeteria. The savory aroma of dashi and freshly cooked rice rose faintly from the tray, but his focus was elsewhere as he scanned the room.

His eyes landed on one spot. A boy quietly sat at a corner eating his bento with slow, deliberate movements. The lacquered box was neatly packed: tamagoyaki folded into golden layers, a few slices of teriyaki chicken, pickled plum resting on white rice, and neatly arranged broccoli and cherry tomatoes adding a splash of color. It looked carefully prepared—maybe even made by someone else's hands.

"Wow! That looks nice."

A warm voice with genuine admiration, laced with a quiet awe that made the words feel more like a whisper of words than a casual remark.

Startled, the boy quickly looked up and saw Renjiro already sitting across him.

Renjiro's eyes widened slightly, a glimmer of surprise dancing in them as he leaned in for a closer look. His lips parted just a little—caught between a breath and a smile—as if he hadn't expected something so beautifully crafted.

For a moment, his usual calm gave way to open admiration, softening his features. A faint, almost boyish grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, betraying how genuinely impressed he was.

The boy lowered his head. He seemed shy, hiding his eyes behind those long bangs.

Renjiro noticed. He quickly pulled away, and the smile faded just a touch as he realized his reaction might've been too much. A quiet guilt prickled at him—he hadn't meant to embarrass the boy.

He cleared his throat, softening his voice.

"Sorry," he said gently, "I just wasn't expecting something so... pretty."

The silence hung for a moment, but it wasn't uncomfortable—just tender, uncertain. Renjiro glanced down at the bento again, then back at the boy, this time with a gentler smile.

"You made all this?" Renjiro asked, his voice almost reverent.

The boy nodded his head, a little hesitant to answer. "Yes..."

Renjiro stared at the delicate arrangement of food with new eyes—sparkling in awe and excitement.

"All this? By yourself?" He repeated, as if trying to make the words settle in his chest.

The boy nodded again, cheeks flushing faintly.

He was amazed by the boy's skills. Renjiro let a breath, almost a laugh. "That's amazing!" He said, "Honestly, I thought it was store-bought. This looks better than half the things I've seen in shops."

"..."

"And I don't mean it in a bad way—I meant in a really good one. You're really good with your hands!"

He looked up at the boy, wonder softening his expression. "It looks tasty... I wonder how it's done?"

The boy's gaze dropped shyly, but he smiled.

Renjiro studied the boy more closely now. The nervous way he fidgeted with his sleeves, the quiet glance he cast toward the ground, the barely-there smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—it wasn't much, but it was enough.

For the first time, Renjiro noticed that the boy could smile. Not the forced kind he'd seen in passing, but a real one—awkward, unsure, but honest.

Renjiro beamed warmly, reaching his hand toward the boy as he introduced himself. He said, "My name is Koizumi Renjiro. We're the same age—so let's be friends."

He sounded and acted so casual. It's as if he were offering something as simple as sharing an umbrella on a rainy day—no expectations, no conditions. Just warmth.

The boy hesitated, eyes flicking to Renjiro's outstretched hand. For a heartbeat, he didn't move.

Then—slowly—he reached out, his fingers brushing Renjiro's before curling into a proper handshake.

His grip was uncertain, but it was there. "I'm Sato Hirota."

A small smile, barely visible, ghosted across his lips.

Renjiro's grin widened. "Well then, nice to meet you... Hirota."

The handshake wasn't much. But in that quiet, fragile moment, it felt like the beginning of something real—a friendship.

Not long after, the two returned together back at class. As they both walked in, passing by others, a whisper stirred in their wake—soft, fleeting, but unmistakable.

"Is that the new student and... Sato-kun?"

Heads turned subtly. A few classmates exchanged glances, and their expressions caught quiet speculation. Sato had always kept to himself, a shadow at the edges of the room.

Seeing him walk beside someone—laughing, even if just faintly—was... new.

Renjiro didn't miss the murmurs, but he didn't flinch. He kept walking, relaxed, both hands in his pockets, as if this was the most natural thing in the world.

Sato, on the other hand, stiffened slightly. His shoulders tensed, his gaze dropped to the floor, but he didn't fall behind.

He sat down quietly, desk beside Renjiro's.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Renjiro beaming in his direction.

It felt awkward, but somehow, there was a strange sense of joy knowing he made a friend—the first one.

The classroom buzzed softly around them, but for a moment, it all felt distant, like they were in a small bubble where only the two of them existed.

When the bell finally rang, the usual rush to the door began. As students gathered their things, a few curious faces turned toward Renjiro and Sato.

"Hey, Koizumi-kun," a girl from the front row called out, tilting her head with interest. "So, you're friends with Sato now?"

Another boy chimed in, "I didn't even know you two talked. What's the story?"

Renjiro shrugged, smiling easily. "Nothing much. We just talked a minute ago."

The murmurs grew softer, replaced by whispers of possibility. It was not in a good way, and Renjiro noticed how Sato looked down, afraid to meet everyone's eyes.

Then, he disappeared, nowhere in sight. Renjiro thought it was weird that no one saw Sato had left.

His eyes wandered around the corridor, scanning the clusters of students chatting and moving between classes. No sign of Sato anywhere—no familiar black cardigan, no quick step slipping past the crowd.

Renjiro shrugged his shoulders.

Maybe he went back to the dorm.

He thought to himself, giving up the search with a quiet sigh.

The sunset outside was beautiful—golden light spilled through the tall windows, washing the hallway in the warmth, casting long, soft shadows across the floor.

Renjiro turned toward the window, watching the sun dip lower behind the trees. The sky bled into shades of fire and violet.

He went down straight to a nearby vending machine. To his surprise, he saw a small figure—fit enough to be an uke from some BL manga—the usual character.

As Renjiro stepped closer, the mysterious person turned out to be Sato.

He was crouched low behind the bush near the edge of the path, his expression focused—intent, almost calculating.

The boy seemed busy—but with what?

Renjiro's eyes followed his line of sight.

Across the field, Ken was jogging alone, earbuds in, completely unaware of their presence. The track looped beneath his steady pace, his future framed by the fading light of early dusk.

Sato didn't move. He just watched.

Sato whispered under his breath, "He looks so cool."

"Oh, really?"

Renjiro said, his voice lowered enough for Sato to hear him from behind.