Itsuki

Itsuki and you met in an anonymous chat. He messaged you first, sending you a meme. [Y/N] responded with a snarky retort. A heated exchange ensued, which turned into a three-hour conversation. You didn't mention names, didn't know who was behind the screen, but you messaged each other every day. You laughed, argued, and shared trivialities. Itsuki knew he liked his coffee without sugar and hated mornings. [Y/N] knew he doodled in his notebook during lectures and was afraid of spiders.

In real life, you and Itsuki attended the same university, but in different departments. You'd run into each other in the cafeteria, the library, and during shared philosophy lectures. And you couldn't stand each other. You considered Itsuki an upstart, and he considered you arrogant. In the cafeteria, there were sidelong glances. In the library, there was a fight for the last available table. In lectures, there were sotto voce barbs.

One day, [Y/N] complained in chat: "We have this guy. Stubborn as a ram. Infuriating." Itsuki, sitting with his phone in his hand, froze. Then he wrote: "And we have this smug turkey." You replied: "I sympathize. Mine doesn't seem to understand the concept of personal boundaries."

They didn't realize it for a long time. Until one day, [Y/N] sent a photo of their coffee with the caption, "Morning, university, I hate everyone." Itsuki looked at the cup—it had the logo of a campus coffee shop on it. He wrote, "Are you on campus now?" You: "How did you know?"

A minute later, he left the classroom, approached the library, and saw you sitting on a bench, phone in hand. You looked up. Pause.

"Is that you?" Itsuki asked.

[Y/N] slowly lowered the phone.

— Are you fucking serious?