nerves making your hands rattle, you shakily hit send on your tweet. immediately, your heart races at the thought of the potentiality that he may actually reply. in your shallow breaths, there exists both anxiety and thrill. you see, twitter is evidence of hell’s position on earth, but nanami kento sprinkles a bit of wholesome sunshine onto the timeline borderline religiously, and that’s enough to keep you around, ducking and dodging unprovoked opinions spewed from a sometimes cesspool. among a plethora of people who’re miserable and feel nearly obligated to project it, there’s a single man who likes to ask others about their day, follow recipes, and show everyone videos of his absurdly rambunctious cat, satoru, doing gymnastics around his modest flat. there’s something about men who gravitate towards domestic endeavors, men who love staying at home so much that they make a hobby out of it by ensuring they never have to leave to enjoy themselves. a man who sees taking care of their home and related activities as desirable and goal-worthy? to you, that type of man is the pinnacle of attraction. nanami kento is that man. but of course, he’s also an incredibly wholesome mostly-baking influencer based in an entirely different country that you reason you have no chance with whatsoever, but witnessing his existence is a constant reminder that the type of man you’re holding out for isn’t only a myth. it isn’t the fabrication of a delusion or a daydream. you aren’t picky; your standards are high and unmoved, rightfully so. the bar you have set for a lover is real and reachable, and you know it is because of every slice of life kento offers his audience. every video he creates is an obvious labor of love for those who, like him, find great enthusiasm for being at home and enjoy spending time in the kitchen. he’s just your type. you reason everything he does must be thorough and authentic. he never adds ads to his videos. he never takes on or talks about sponsored merchandise. he always responds to followers and strives to make his content a group effort. everything he shows is just a glimpse into who he genuinely is at his core: a simple man with simple hobbies who’s responsible and has a heart that’s teeming with kindness and pleasantries. so, of course, taking the leap and finally completing one of his follow-along tutorials just for the chance that he replies is absolutely nerve-wracking for you. like him, you have a great love for baking. you’re no professional baker and you’re no successful baking influencer, but it’s stress-relieving and you love fresh bread, desserts, and pastries. in fact, finding new things to try baking is how you stumbled upon his youtube channel, fell head over heels in infatuation with him, and now follow him across all his socials, smiling like a fool when he posts. ꒰ you’re not obsessed; you’re just enamored. ꒱ and on your attempt, you actually feel a little proud. it comes out damn near identical to kento’s. it maybe doesn’t taste nearly as good as his likely does, but it’s sweet and you enjoyed the time spent on it. as you close the app in post-reply sent shame, you inwardly hope the sight of your result is praise-worthy.

it takes three days before you finally dare to open the app again. it may sound invariably insane, but even the potential that he might reply fills you with a sense of deep, overwhelming dread. the thought of being perceived by him gives you equal amounts of anxiety as it does excitement. both feelings differ but they feel exactly the same in your body. your nervousness seems to be warranted as you log on, eyes wide with perceivable shock, and 123 highlight in a red circle on your notifications tab. once again, there’s the instant drop of your heart in your chest straight to your gut. you freeze for a moment, terrified for some reason to tap it. it’s clear that he’s replied or something since you’ve never had more than ten notifications on a good day. you tap the frightening little bell and swallow hard. you try your hardest not to eagerly take it all in at once and instead scroll all the way down where the notifications first begin. when you do, you’re left gasping at the words on the screen.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎. quoting shethesea: ‘the best you could’ was perfect! wow. color me impressd :-)

shethesea: [ image ] did the best i could heh. 😅

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎. followed you.

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎. and 23 others liked your tweet. homemade lemon bread. nothing crazy, but it’s delicious. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎. replying to shethesea: so it’s not just wreath! it looks crazy delicious :-D 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎. quoting shethesea: oh man i think i found a rival, you all.

shethesea: [ image ] decided to make blueberry cheesecake from scratch on a whim. 😅

꒰ elusivemoon io ꒱ and 64 others followed you.

scrolling through all the notifications, you can’t help the way you’re beaming, a child-like and wondrous smile on your face as you see he not only replied to you, but followed you, scoped through your account, and boosted your hobby work as well. you blink in sheer shock as you see the stream of likes and retweets flooding in. what makes you hold your breath is the little notification on your dm tab that reads (3). you don’t know it right then, how could you, but that bolded notification in the bar and your choice to tap on it seals your fate.

kento: what a pleasant surprise! someone just as enthusiastic about baking as me. i can’t believe this is your first time showing us your results! thank you for participating in the follow-along. kento: lovely presentation. i looked through your media and salivated at your blueberry cheesecake. kento: so i am here to ask what i have to do to get my hands on that recipe? i’d love to do a video over it and try it myself, with credit and your permission of course.

shocked doesn’t even begin to cover the way you feel. butterflies unfurl ruthlessly in your stomach, making you clutch at your gut as your lips purse. the nanami kento just dm’d you. he sees your baked goods; he likes them. he sees your follow-along to his video; he likes it. he sees what you do in your spare time and he admits he’s impressed by you. he wants something from you to add substance to his channel. the realization of it all finally settles in and your lips part, your phone slipping from your hand and falling right onto the surface of your mattress. that’s when you just start squealing and haphazardly moving yourself. before you know it, you’re in your bed belly-first, face stuffed into your pillow while your legs kick rapidly behind you. thrilled, you roll onto your back with a content sigh and a smile. you stare at the ceiling, recalling it all over again and you excitedly grab your pillow, cover your face yet again, and continue as you were. “oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! is this real?” you ask the ether in disbelief. “nanami-fucking-kento?” taking a deep breath, you steady yourself and finally reply to his dms.

you: i cannot believe THE nanami kento is following me, saw my treats, and is now dm-ing me for a RECIPE. am i dead? is this heaven??? you: wow, thank you so much for all your support. i’m so shocked that you replied, let alone followed me and sent me a dm. :3 i’m honored you like the things i’ve baked and i’d be even more honored to have you recreate my own recipe!!!

it takes him much less time to reply ꒰ an hour ꒱ than it did you ꒰ two days ꒱.

kento: haha i’m just a guy at home with his cat. i’m really nothing special to think you’ve died over, but i’ll admit your enthusiasm does boost my ego a little. kento: are you kidding? i’d be a fool not to recognize talent and support it wholeheartedly. have you considered making videos of your own? 

you: i have, but i tried once, realized the extent of time content creation takes, and realized i was a salary girl with work in the morning.

kento: well now i /really/ have to do this recipe in your honor.

and you’re not sure what emboldens your next words, but you don’t regret them and you’re only mildly embarrassed about them. it isn’t you blatantly shooting your shot, but it’s definitely you laying the groundwork to do such a thing. after all, nanami kento might just be the man of your dreams.

you: i don’t know. what if you take off with my recipe and i never hear from you again? 😔

kento: unfortunately, you have evidence against me so my diabolical plan to heist your blueberry cheesecake recipe without consequence has failed. i’ll /need/ the exact measurements so i’ll eat this cost, i suppose. kento: i fear i may be stuck in contact with you :-)

and it probably shouldn’t make your heart skip. it’s your first time speaking to him and he’s obviously playing along with you, definitely not reciprocating your slightly flirtatious efforts, but you can’t help it. even his humor confirms he may just be the man of your dreams.

11:04 am. kento:

testing, testing. one two three.

it takes three weeks of back-and-forth communication before you toss it out to the wind that, perhaps, it’s a good time for the two of you to exchange numbers and shift your consistent messaging to something a bit more formal and casual simultaneously. you use the excuse that keeping up with the app just to talk to him is adding to your insane amount of time spent online lately. he teases you initially about getting onto the app just to respond to him, about not being able to leave him waiting, but you know it’s the truth. you love talking to kento. sure, the first few days you’re arguably starstruck, but by day five, there’s a budding sense of comfort and casual dialogue exchange. you stop thinking about him as the nanami kento and start to see him as the guy who’s a blossoming friend that you just so happen to have an impossible crush on. you both have a great deal in common, from your love of baking to your surprisingly shared love of classical music and bad movies. your interest in him romantically has yet to waiver in the slightest, but you understand that even if you both talk every day, there’s no way he sees you as more than an online companion in his same realm of interests. he’s half a world away in japan while you’re wading around the west. you already have to jump through time zone hoops just to catch each other and build a friendship. still, you can’t help the way your heart flutters when you get a notification from him. you can’t stop the butterflies that swarm when you make a treat and post it on the timeline only to have him quote it and brag that he got to see it before anyone else.

11:07 am. you:

received. and excuse me, what time is it for you, sir?

11:08 am. kento:

a very measly 1:08 am. it’s morning for us both :-)

11:10 am. you:

kento !!! sir, go to bed.

when he finally responds, you find yourself in a similar state as when you notice his follow and retweets: your mouth slightly parts and your eyes are glued to your screen as your stomach turns flips where you stand, which just so happens to be right in the middle of your kitchen.

11:11 am. kento:

and why would i do that when talking to you is on the table? i’m a man of indulgence after all.

꒰ 4 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒 ! ꒱

5:35 pm. kento:

i think we should watch ‘the happening’ hm. i can’t say it’s “bad” but it really might not be good. 5.0 rating. it’ll be just like flipping a coin :-) what do you think?

it seems like he’s always punctual, prompt out of habit and respect for your time. a true gentleman through and through just like you always believed him to be. your feet have just barely tiptoed over the threshold and into your home before he texts you. it doesn’t occur to you that he’s memorized your schedule. all the ways time weaves between the two of you hardly ever crosses your mind.

interestingly, you don’t realize you swear off all your monday evenings without either of you ever actually agreeing to it. interestingly, you don’t realize that it’s been three months already in full and nearly two months worth of your monday evenings reserved for his tuesday mornings and a bad movie over facetime and tea. most interestingly, the only thing you do realize is that he’s now embossed into your habits, a consistent variable in all of your equations.

5:42 pm. you:

i’ve seen it already. 😞 got another?

5:45 pm. kento:

i always have a backup plan, of course. ‘twilight’ perhaps? i won’t lie it looks especially awful.

5:50 pm. you:

saw that, too. but honestly take that back because that movie is a cult classic. 🫤

5:52 pm. kento:

i can almost assure you it is not.

5:55 pm. you:

ope! let’s watch it anyway. i just found an opportunity to prove you wrong and i’m taking it.

5:57 pm. kento:

if you’re wrong and i find it to be especially awful like i know i will, you do realize i’m going to make you watch ikiru again, right? you ought to consider stocking up on kleenex.

5:59 pm. you:

if i catch you having even a sliver of enjoyment like i know i will, you do realize i’m going to make you watch new moon next, right?

6:01 pm. kento:

if i’m honest, i’ll watch anything you want. but still, you’re truly insufferable :-P are you almost ready?

6:03 pm. you:

i’m making tea. are you rushing me, nanami kento?

6:04 pm. kento:

no i would /never/ but…you can’t call me for that? :-( i’m only indirectly emphasizing a need for haste due to the sheer capacity of which your absence has been felt.

6:05 pm. you:

going shakespeare to rush me is /crazy/ truly unprecedented. perhaps, dare i say it, unnecessary even? 🤔 if you miss me then just say that. 😌

6:06 pm. kento:

i’m not rushing you but i wouldn’t mind if you hurried. i miss you. 

you stare at the screen for approximately four minutes, heart oscillating wildly, breathing deeply as you feel it sinking and soaring in your chest ceaselessly. you almost can’t take it. every moment you spend seems to be a blend of familiarity and comfort, something remnant of home. there are moments when you blink and for a twinkle, you feel like you’re his. all his. his impatience is what drags you out of disbelief and reticence.

kento. facetime video

six months pass in a dizzy blur and you’re quite certain that you are very much doomed. between the daily facetime calls, sitting on the phone with one another until the wee hours of the night for you or for him, baking together over calls, and the night/day-long movie marathons, it’s official. nanami kento is the man of your dreams and despite the offensive amount of distance and time scattered between your bodies, you can no longer fight how badly you want to call him yours. you’ve realized a few things about kento in the time you’ve known him, the first thing being that this man is as consistent as they come. he texts you every morning between 9-9:30 am your time, 1 am his time. in fact, he’s so consistent that you don’t think he’s gone to bed before the sun rises on his side of the world since the day you exchanged imessage details. consistently, he stays up just to greet you, just to know how your day is starting and going. the second thing you notice is the intensity of his reliability. if he says he’ll do something, he does it without fail, without falter. he doesn’t give excuses, only results, responsibility, and reasons. the third and most impactful thing to your heart is his shamelessness when he’s fond of someone.

it started a week ago when he hit you with a goodnight text so charged, you almost couldn’t bring yourself to sleep. you mused over the words, turned them every which way in your mind to discover the hidden meaning behind them before accepting he meant exactly what he said: ‘goodnight. i’ll be here when you wake up, but i’ll most certainly miss you.’ and he was there right when you woke up to greet you. you find it strange the way he barely did anything at all to weasel his way into the most important parts of your life. he slid in with ease and without warning. the most frightening part is the growing perceivable desire to be there with you even though he can’t be there with you. this little development is exactly what lands you where are right now: waiting in line for a very specific laptop you’ve been saving for and waiting to release for months. it’s unbearably frigid outside, early december air nipping away at everyone’s comfort. you’re as bundled as you can be, but it somehow isn’t enough.

7:17 am. you:

kentooooo, i made it, but the line is huge and it’s so cold. i’m going to be waiting forever, too. 😔

7:19 am. kento:

poor thing. are you sure you want to do this? are you bundled? will you be warm enough?

7:20 am. you:

i’m bundled but bored 😔 i’m sure but shivering. 😔 my legs are bouncing like i’m a bunny or smth just to produce /perceived/ warmth. that’s how cold it is.

7:22 am. kento:

aw does my bunny want some company while she waits? :-) i have something to ask anyway.

there he goes again, catching you off guard with his sudden burst of cute responses that teeter on the line of flirting you can’t seem to appropriately decipher. it’s the way he indirectly, even playfully, calls you his. it’s the string of worry you can feel in all his questioning. it’s the certainty you have in your bones that he’s the one who wants to keep you company. for a split second, it almost dawns on you that he’s courting you. almost. you dismiss it as the reminder of time and distance plague you.

7:23 am. you:

what exactly are you suggesting? hmm?

a few minutes pass and no reply comes despite him reading it immediately as it delivers. you know it’s not abnormal for some time to pass between replies. you know that he’s a busy influencer; he has content to create and other people that require his attention, but you can’t help but want his reply as fast as all the others have come. you can’t help but want him to take care of you first before his work, worry about you first before all of the other arguably more important things.

i had his attention first anyway.

the simple thought crosses your mind and shock follows. you can’t believe you had such a blatant and disgustingly possessive thought. your feelings for him are blossoming far out of your control, you fear. the fear is solidified when your phone suddenly starts ringing and excitement pours out of you when you realize kento is facetiming you, entirely unplanned and unprovoked. you answer timidly, earphones in as you look at the screen nervously waiting to connect. when it does, you’re met with eyes that pool with warmth looking at you pleasantly and a slow smile spreading across supple lips. his blonde hair is tousled around his head and a loose white tee clings to his frame. you gulp, swallowing down the thick sweetness rising like bile. your heart goes wild for him, fluttering at first before becoming a monstrosity of rapid beats and ceaseless thumping. “well hello, what a bundled bunny we have here indeed. cute,” he breathes. an arm rises to rest behind his head as he lays in bed, holding his phone slightly above him to give you a clear view of his coziness. your voice is soft and mumbled as you speak. “not cute, but this is a pleasant surprise.” “very cute,” kento emphasizes. “i know it’s sudden, but i couldn’t give you wiggle room to reject me if i asked to call.” “as if i’d ever,” a grumble as your eyes move to the side. kento, amusement tugging on his lips, chuckles.

“what was that, bunny?” “i said…good evening.” you lie. you know he heard you and you know that you meant it, but when he asks you to repeat yourself clearly, you think it might tell him much more than you want him to know, at the moment. he hums curiously, studying you with a fixed gaze until you feel bashful. “good morning to you.” “what are you doing?” a soft inquiry laden with coyness, as if you haven’t been talking to him each day for a string of months now. he tilts the camera, revealing a bundle of white fluff curled up into a ball right next to his hip. his cat, satoru. as if well aware he’s now being observed, piercing cerulean eyes open wide and stare into the screen intently, a perpetually grouchy look gracing his features. “i’m in bed, snuggling with my beloved cat who hates me.” kento jokes, petting the cat’s head to which satoru hisses and bares his teeth. “aw, cute catoru. he’s so evil but so adorable.” you both laugh. “it’s getting late there, isn’t it?” “it is and i want to rest, but i have something particularly pathetic on my mind that i can’t shake. if you have time, could you help me out?” your agreement is immediate, almost a given. “of course, kento. i’ll help you with anything.” he sighs, a wistful breath full of an emotion you can’t pin down, perhaps longing. “what’s silly is i know that. i know that very well.” “so what is it then?” you hum, a push for him to go on. “well, i’ve found myself in an interesting predicament. i like someone, a good friend of mine. quite a lot. and i’m at a loss as to how to make it obvious without putting myself in line for harsh rejection and ruining our friendship. it’s very dear to me, as i don’t have many.” “oh,” you murmur, disappointment filling your body with pressure and heat, embarrassed by your own adoration of him. “well, kento, i highly doubt anyone would reject you. you’re…y-you’re kinda the total package, you know?” it comes out as a mumble and a simple point of encouragement, but it feels like a confession the way you’re trying to bury all the loving connotation under your breath. “is that so? well, then i’m struggling to understand why she hasn’t shown the kind of interest in me i want. i’ve…tested the waters a little bit.” you shrug, eyes down as you speak to avoid him seeing the despondence in your eyes. you keep telling yourself that it’s always been silly to like him as more than a cherished friend, to fantasize about him in a romantic light even after getting close. you sigh. “maybe you’re not being clear. what have you tried?”

“admittedly, there’s only so much i can do, as it stands. i have tried to be subtle about it, but at the same time, maybe i’m far too subtle.” “hm, maybe you should confess, you know?” your voice is sad, but kento is your friend and he’s confiding in you. you take a deep breath and finally look at him. “some girls like grand gestures. maybe you could try that and segue into telling her how you feel.” “a grand gesture?” he questions, brows raising as his head tilts. you nod. “yeah, like whisk her away on a day together and then confess.” “i feel it might be difficult to do so, but say i do it. say i go out of my way and i whisk her off for a day with me. won’t that be very telling of my feelings?” “isn’t that what you want? more clarity? be bold, kento. don’t play it safe or you might miss your shot.” don’t make the mistake i’m making. “like i said, you’re the total package. no one would reject you unless they’re blind, don’t like nice men with manners who mind their business, or just…isn’t the one for you.”

because maybe i am.

days pass and form into weeks before you’re worried it’s becoming painfully obvious that you’re sort of, kind of avoiding kento now, but you don’t know what exactly to say to him. your enthusiasm since his admittance to liking someone else is drained. you want to talk to him, but talking to him seems to be coupled with deeply rooted anxiety and soft sadness. you know it already, but now you can’t even delude yourself: there’s no chance for you with him. you have to fix the way you think of him, and fast, or you’ll watch your friendship fizzle out, buried under a heavy avalanche of your jealousy, insecurity, and unrequited affections. the friendship is still important and impactful even if it can never lead to romantic love, and you need to start acting like it. the truth is, there’s a thick fear slowly brewing under the surface of losing your consistent communication and gentle companionship. so when he texts you for the third consecutive morning at the exact same time, you reason that he’s doing nothing but proving himself and his position in your life. you’ll still be important to him even if he starts to see someone. right?

9:30 am. kento:

good morning bunny. i hope you’re okay. i haven’t heard from you lately. i miss you a lot :-(

‘bunny’ seems to be a new integration from your facetime fiasco during your laptop acquisition. you don’t mind it, but it makes the indirect friendzone hit even harder. that sickening, fuzzy feeling fills your gut; yearning floods your chest. underneath all of it is a dull ache, a painful anticipation of loss. but it’s impossible not to adore him, not to find endearment in everything he says and does. it’s impossible not to be riddled by your own feelings when he gives you cute names, texts you each morning and evening, stays up late just to speak to you, sends you pictures of the mundane but loveliest aspects of his day.

9:43 am. you:

i’m sorry. i haven’t felt the best lately.

9:47 am. kento:

feeling sick, dear? make sure you rest and stay hydrated for me, okay?

you groan, reading while a hand clutches at the fabric covering your stomach. saccharinity seeps from your lonely pores and drenches you in an unbreakable and loving reverence. it dawns on you right then. the longer you know him, the closer you get to him, the more you spend time talking about nothing and it feels like everything, you’re slowly submerging into the depths of sink hole that steadily fills up with love, genuine love decoupled from any fantasy or pretense you once had of him.

for you. god do i want to be for you.

9:50 am. you:

eh, it’s more emotional sickness. got news i don’t think i wanted to get and it’s been rough emotionally. don’t worry about me.  i’ll bounce back. i always do.

he seems to leave it at that and you assume that, for the first time, kento goes to bed at a slightly reasonable hour for him ꒰ 2 am ꒱, which isn’t very reasonable at all, but it’s better than knowing he stays up until the crack of dawn or until whenever you bid him farewell for your busyness throughout your day. yet, somehow, the shift in his behavior feels like an indication.

did he tell her? is he seeing someone now? is his attention already being divided?

you feel silly for your string of panicked thoughts and the way anxiety finds comfort settling in the chasm of your chest for over an hour when out of the blue, he responds.

11:10 am. kento:

sorry, bunny. i was packing. anyway i always worry about you. always. what if i told you i had good news that might cheer you up?

you swallow the lump of your relief hard. it sinks and swirls around your lungs so swiftly that you feel a little breathless.

11:19 am. you:

oh yea? give it your best shot.

11:22 am. kento:

i’m taking a trip near your area to film content with another baker. i would love to meet my bunny in person finally…if you’re willing to, that is.

and now here you stand, frozen in disbelief at the words you’ve just read. you read the text repeatedly, in rapid succession, confirming its content and its meaning. for a moment, you stop your breathing and stare. you thought that you’d both carry on like this, your hopeless feelings and his relentless consistency always having the distance between them in common. it was supposed to be easier in theory and practice to move past your pointless emotions because you weren’t ever going to have to look in his eyes for too long. there would always be a way to hide the severity of your fondness from him. although, underneath your disbelief is sheer excitement.

11:27 am. you:

you’re coming here?! from japan?! AND YOU WANT TO SEE ME?! UH, NANAMI KENTO!!! DUH! you were so right. that news did cheer me up a bit. when are you coming?

11:27 am. kento:

my flight is booked three days from now. i’ll only be there for the weekend.

11:30 am. you:

only two days? 😞 will we have time to meet between your work? i don’t want to get in the way.

11:32 am. kento:

you don’t know by now that i’ll always make time for you?

as you stand in your bedroom, phone clutched in tensed fingers, it becomes quite clear that you’re doomed. you’re absolutely doomed. devastation. you’re sure this can only end in your devastation.

the last couple of days have been interesting, to say the least. you danced the line of excitement and anxiety, but you also planned relentlessly with kento. so much so that you have to keep reminding him that his trip is intended to be a work event and not solely so the two of you can have fun together. he always only responds in a tender hum and asks you about what places you frequent and places you’ve never been. it’s facetime calls full of “what’s the weather going to be like?” and “don’t worry about your precious catoru. my neighbor geto will care for him. he likes him much more anyway.” it’s kento changing the destination of his flight to arrive at an airport closest to you. it’s the two of you coordinating schedules and his murmurs that he can’t wait. it’s the utter lack of mention about his content filming with another influencer. it’s the fact that it feels like he’s coming to see you and your heart clings to the delusion with glee. so now, the sky blazes, the evening a fiery mural above your head. and it happens, the moment nanami kento is standing in your doorway, smiling at you like a fool. you can’t believe it. when you open the door, the last six months of your life flash before your eyes and you see a little collection of messages and moments that all lead you to right now, staring at a tall man with his broad shoulders and sculpted, blond hair, gentle eyes gazing back at you with a boyish smile, carrying a suitcase in hand and a jacket draped over his arm. he went from being your guilty pleasure to being a mutual, from a mutual to a kind-hearted and loving friend, from a good friend to a heart-bursting crush, from a little crush to being the man you are undoubtedly in love with, a man that you’d give your blood, sweat, tears, and every dollar you have for even a fraction of a chance with. “you’re…actually here…” a murmur made with a distant voice, soft and full of wonder. “you’re…” kento nods, his voice equally tender but flooding with tepidness. “i’m here, bunny.” “i have to say. this wasn’t on my bingo card.” he chuckles. “are you going to let me in or stare me down?” you step to the side, trying your best to be discreet about the deep breath you take. kento quietly discards his shoes at the door. “perhaps both,” you tease, closing the door behind him. “here, let me take that. i’ll show you to the guest room.” you reach for his luggage and he quickly pulls it away from your grasp. “don’t you dare. tell me where to put it. you don’t carry things while i’m here, not even your own things.” “i—” you pause, your heart beating so hard you can hear and feel it in your ears. heat fills your body; your face is full of pressure. “o-okay, i’m sorry.” kento’s brows bunch together. “bunny, the last thing i want to hear is an apology when you’re quite literally hosting me for free. you could have easily left me to fend for myself.” “you know i wouldn’t.” you look down at your hands, fingers fumbling over one another. “you always have a place to stay if you’re ever in town again.” and nanami kento’s next confession leaves you standing there, totally stunned and flustered. “as long as you’re here, i’ll be back again and again, i’m sure…i hope.” and you don’t know exactly what he means, but it’s another instance that passes when you catch something in his tone and you almost realize he’s courting you. you feel like a common fool when you just stand there and don’t speak. kento purses his lips in amusement before adding to the myriad of reasons you’re unlikely to ever get over him. “i don’t mean to rush you, but i’ve only got so much self-control in me. i need to know where to put these things before i abandon them anywhere just to hug you. i’d hate to leave such an awful first impression.”

is he…flirting with me?

“i…uh…follow me.” it comes out as a whisper as you hurriedly scurry from your foyer, down the hallway and to your left, right through the threshold of the simple guestroom. a bed, a book, and a side table. the room is otherwise bare. “i know it’s not much, but...” kento shakes his head, entering the room with a pleasant smile. “your home is quaint. i love it.” you stand in the bedroom’s entry and watch as he sets down his suitcase and jacket, only to turn around, stride across the room and stand before you. “c’mere,” he urges, arms opening and beckoning you forward. you open your mouth to speak, nervousness layering your every motion and thought, but he seems to be unmoved, indifferent to your hesitation as he grips your shoulders and pulls you into his torso. you hardly have time to understand what’s occuring before you’re engulfed in his arms, head pressed to his chest. the scent of teakwood, amber, and spice embraces you, too. you’re in his arms and it’s the most comfortable you’ve ever felt. of course yours slide around his waist. what feels like several minutes pass and kento hasn’t moved from his position, keeping you tucked in the confines of his hold with no indication of releasing you. “you okay?” a delicate inquiry followed by is affirmative hum. “you like long hugs?” his chuckle vibrates against his chest. you feel the thrumming with your cheek pressed against his ribcage. “i do now, but only with you.” you wonder if he can feel your heart racing the way you can hear his.

it takes kento a while to be willing to let you free from his enveloping hold. you enjoy it, but you can’t deny the confusion that sends your mind spiraling, nosediving into a faraway daydream of the possible, unspoken implications of his actions since he arrived.

is this normal for him? is he usually this affectionate and chivalrous? everything he’s doing feels so unlike him but also very like him. sure, but a hug that lasts for ten minutes? he hasn’t stopped calling me bunny for weeks. i swear i saw something in his eyes when i opened the door. maybe i’m insane. maybe i’m seeing what i want to see.

“bunny,” kento calls, snapping you out of your thoughts. you look up at him and notice he holds the bottle of tequila he suggested to you prior to his arrival. “you got it.” there’s a thankful smile on his face and you nod, matching him. “i did. you said you wanted to play a drinking game.” “i have a confession.” he says with a sigh. “i haven’t actually drank in years.” you giggle. “same, so maybe let’s take it easy? half shots.” he only hums, but you swear you hear him mumble, “i’ll need all the courage i can get.”

at first, the silence builds into thick awkwardness.it’s only resolved by the ridiculous movie you guys decide to watch ꒰ this time with the intent of taking half-sized shots in response to every single instance someone says something ridiculously corny ꒱. this time it’s hercules in new york.

‘hey, mister! watch your talk!’ ‘i can hear my talk. i cannot watch it.’

“kento,” you laugh, preparing to take yet another swig. “what is this movie? the dialogue is horrendous. we might have to change the rules or i’ll be hospitalized.” like you have for the last few rounds, you pour just a bit of the brown liquid into each tiny glass, carefully measuring out the liquid. when you turn to hand kento his glass, you find half-lidded eyes staring at you, flushed cheeks and a kiddish smile. “thanks, bunny.” he says, chuckling as he loosely raises his arms to grasp it. you narrow your eyes and pull the glass back. “hold on, sir. are you already too gone? mister ‘i need to have the exact measurements,’ do you know your limit?” kento’s smile widens and his arms fall. “i do. i’ve reached it.” “and you were really going to grab the drink anyway?” you ask, a brow raised he shrugs. “it’s because…i think i’ll take anything you give to me.” “what are you even saying?” you grumble, placing the drinks down and your hands in your lap. the tv drones in front of you both, but the sound is drowned by the way your nervousness clouds all your senses right then. this is precisely what you feared, how you wouldn’t know how to react to his friendliness that feels so close to pursuit. silence settles for a moment; it rests between you both, teetering somewhere between comfortable and all-consuming. finally, kento speaks. “you know…there’s…something specific i want you to give me.” he sighs and sits up, large body hunching over bent knees. slowly you turn your head and look at him. “m-me?” “you. i’m sorry if this isn’t as grand as you might have hoped.” confusion befalls you, and yet your clueless heart still bounces to the tune of his emphasis on you. “i’m uh…i’m not really following, kento.” he grunts, straightens himself up, turns to look directly at you, and leans his face so close to yours, the feeling of his breath tickles your mouth. his eyes peer into yours, curiosity sparkling brilliantly like moissanite before he murmurs, “don’t you know by now that i love you?” kento only lets two ticks pass before his desirous mouth collides with yours. he wants you to know the flavor of ardor on his lips. he wants to know if your longing tastes the same. he’s a man of indulgence, after all.