DECEMBER 2007

The first time the doorbell rings, you ignore it. The second time you start to get irritated. By the fourth ring you curse under your breath, then head down the stairs to open the door. You knew it couldn’t have been any of your friends, because they know where the spare key is kept—right underneath the potted plant placed outside your door. 

It can’t be your parents, because they went away for the christmas holidays, trusting you enough to be home alone by yourself since you are 18 years old. 

By the time you’re by the staircase, you freeze as you see the silhouette of a man, who by the looks of it seems to be at least over 5’10. You struggle to swallow, picking up the nearest object just in case the man was an intruder. The doorbell stops ringing, then you hear an exasperated sigh before the lock begins to get picked at.

You hate the way your body is just frozen on the spot, fight or flight mode deactivated. Instead you just stand there, with a cushion in your hand as if you’re ready to smother the man to death the moment the door is opened. 

The door opens and you instantly drop the cushion, clutching a hand over your heart. “Ran? What the fuck, you don’t just go breaking into people’s houses in the middle of the night.”

His eyes land on the cushion that dropped on the floor. “Were you going to throw that at me?” He sighs loudly, rubbing his temples with ease, “Yn, baby. I gotta teach you how to defend yourself.”

“Shut up.” You close the distance between the two of you, pulling him down for a hug as you dig your face into his black t-shirt. “When did you get back?”

“Like a couple hours ago. Wanted to surprise you.” He slides his hands down to your lower back, giving you a slight squeeze; smiling when you make a small noise from the pressure. “Didja miss me?”

You shake your head and hug him tighter. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Not lying.”

“Then look me in the eyes and say you didn’t miss me.”

You pause for a moment before breaking the hug and look up at him, trying your hardest to remain serious and fight the urge to break out into a smile. “I didn’t miss you.”

“Say it without that smile on your face.” 

“Fuck.” You squeeze your cheeks together, trying to forcefully remove the smile. “Fine, I missed you. Only a little though.”

“Yeah, sure.” Ran makes his way over to your fridge and starts to rummage through your things. “There’s nothing to eat.”

“Ran.”

He ignores you, continues searching through the fridge as if expecting something to magically spawn inside. All there is sauces, vegetables, milk etc. The basic necessities to make a decent dish. Your fridge isn’t full, but it’s not empty either.

“Ran, there’s plenty to eat.” You stand next to him and gently push him away so you can grab the ingredients, “look, there’s beef and um, tomato sauce. You can make something.” 

“I don’t cook. I heat shit up. Where’s the pizza and stuff?”

You look up at him with an unamused look on your face which deepens when he simply grins at you. “What?”

“You’re so lazy, I’ll make you something. Go sit down.” 

Ran heads over to the counter right beside you and hoists himself up onto the surface, kicking his feet back and forth like a kid. “Whatcha makin’ me?” He asks in a sing-song tone.

“Just something to shut you up and keep you satisfied. Could you pass the knife behind you?” You grab the chopping board and set it up next to him and open up the bag of washed vegetables. He slides the knife towards you, then twists his body to face you to watch you slice the carrots. 

The way you’re barely speaking, eyes focused on cutting the vegetables with such precision is something that surprises him. Whenever he does cook, he just chops them in chunks, too lazy to try to get the sizing correct. It’s always funny when Rindo tells him that he needs to stop cutting the carrots so huge.  

He also notices the motion of the knife when you cut it, almost like a wave motion. He remembers learning about that in middle school cooking lessons, but didn’t actually expect people to do that at home. He always thought it was a professional chef type thing. “Do you like cooking?”

“I don’t mind it. My mum always told me to start cooking for myself cause when I go university I’ll be all on my own. So I started making my own meals as preparation for when I leave home. Plus it’s just a good life skill, you know?”

Ran hums in agreement, completely disregarding the fact he doesn’t know how to cook at all. “I agree—,” he picks up a carrot from the bag and snaps it in half, taking a bite, “—you’d make the best housewife.”

“Fuck off, I’m not being anybody’s housewife.”

“Not even mine?”

“Nope.” You exaggerate the word a little, popping the ‘p’. As you pull out an onion and start to dice it , you can hear the clink of his belt as he slides off the counter to stand behind you. You briefly pause your cutting when you feel his hands start to slowly massage your shoulders, pressing his thumbs into your skin. It feels too good, especially for a massage. You lean your head back against his chest as he continues his movements, your fingers slowly letting the knife drop onto the chopping board.

He bends down, dropping his voice an octave lower as he whispers in your ear, “See how easy you submit to me?” You nod absentmindedly, not even listening to what he’s saying, just focusing on how good his hands feel on your shoulders. He notices you’re not even paying attention, your eyes are squeezed shut as you enjoy the free massage, so he uses your blank mind to his advantage, “Are you gonna be a good lil’ housewife, just for me?”

“Mhm, yeah. All yours.” Your lips move before your brain can slap some sense into you. God may have graced you with excellent cooking skills, but Ran’s been blessed with the skill of his hands, he knows how to use them to make you into nothing but putty. 

“You gonna cook and clean, just for me?”

“Y-yeah.” You bite your lip when he rolls his fingers, pressing his thumbs deeper into your shoulder whilst applying delicious friction to your muscles that has you leaning further back into his chest. At this point, you should realise what he’s trying to do, your brain should snap back into its normal senses and answer him correctly, but the way his fingers slide up to your neck, gently kneading your tendon with his thumbs and forefingers has your back arching and shoulders rolling to feel more.

 “So you’re gonna be my housewife?”

“Yeah—wait, wait no.” You reach behind you and push his hands off you, brows creasing in annoyance as he laughs at how submissive you went just from a single massage. “You’re not funny Ran.”

“Shut up, you know you love me.” He tilts your head back using a firm grip on your hair and turns you to face him.  You blink up at him as he runs his hand down your neck, giggling quietly at the feeling of his calloused fingers tickling their way down your neck. His huge hand grips onto your throat with his thumb rubbing your chin as he leans down to kiss you.

You work your lips against his soft ones and eventually part them slightly as he coaxes his tongue inside. You placed your hand behind you, resting on the counter as he steps forward, pushing your back against the surface. His spare hand lands on your waist, rubbing onto your lower back before slipping his hands inside your shorts. The hand on your throat drops to your shorts aswell, two firm hands kneading and squeezing at your asscheeks.

Your hands come up to his chest, a grin forming on your lips as you feel how firm his chest is. “Have you been working out?” You mumble against his lips, leaning up on your tip-toes to suck at his bottom lip. He groans when your teeth sink into his bottom lip, hands squeezing you even tighter that you’re sure there’s a handprint at this point. 

“Sorta.” He slips his hands from your shorts, bringing your hands to his shirt to allow you to feel up on his abs. “Does this turn you on?”

“Yeah.” It does, you’re not going to lie. Almost everything about this man has you fascinated, everything he does makes you hot and bothered; from his mannerisms, his voice, the focused look on his face when he looks at you, the way he can never keep his hands to himself; always sliding them somewhere along your body, whether that be your wrists, your thighs, your arms, your ass, your stomach. Name a body part that’s easily accessible, there’s a guarantee Ran’s hand will linger there when he’s bored.

You’ve never felt this way with a guy before, never felt the need to be around somebody so badly. Those three weeks he was away were like hell to you. He’s not perfect though, he’s nowhere near perfect. There’s been a couple times where you really had to sit and evaluate why the relationship was never progressing forward. Why does it feel like there’s something holding the two of you back.

After sitting down one night, notebook and pen in hand, you made a list. Everything you were doing right in the relationship, followed by everything you were doing wrong. You also weren’t a perfect person, you had flaws which is normal for any human being.

But the flaws on Ran’s side were almost double yours. For starters, he is rarely present. He always has something to do, somewhere to go. You’re not stupid, you’re fully aware he’s part of a gang and that its necessary to be out and about, doing whatever. But he never tells you anything. He wouldn’t even leave a text saying :

hey im going to be gone for a couple days. dont miss me too much 

He would just leave, not contact you for days, sometimes weeks on end. Then come back like nothing happened. This happened the entire two years you were dating. Communication was his biggest flaw, and was the downfall of your relationship. 

In the earlier stages of your relationship, he was the problem. But as your relationship hit the one year mark; you had also become part of the problem. Many occasions you had accused him of cheating on you, when he wasn’t. But did you know that? No. Because he never communicated with you. Arguments were constant, sometimes he would just walk out and not even let you finish talking, other times you would be the one to walk out and block him for a couple days, just to show up at his door unannounced. 

When these situations did occur, not one of you apologised. Not a single ‘sorry’ escaped either of your lips. Instead, you both had sex. The sex varied from being rough, him taking out all the anger and frustration from being blocked for that long on you; or the sex was soft, gentle and intimate. Like the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, the sensual words ‘I love you’ would leave both of your lips every two seconds as he fucked you deep and slow into the bed.

Your friends were all telling you that this relationship is so horribly unhealthy, it’s a miracle you both managed this long. You also knew it was unhealthy, but you didn’t care. There would be times when you’d ‘break up’ temporarily. You’d tried to see other guys, tried dating them even tried fucking them. But it never felt right. There was something missing each time. 

You knew what it was missing. Which is why you went crawling back to him everytime. When you ended things with him, he knew you’d always go back to him, he said he could get you back with a snap of his fingers, even proved it with his friends one time. He said he’d give you less than a week to come back. 

You sent him a text not even two days later.

He was shocked when you finally broke things off with him for good. You said you were done with him and he simply replied with ‘Sure’. Weeks passed, then those painful weeks turned to months, then to years. Then he truly realised he’d lost you when he tried to call your number after a year of no contact with you.

The call went straight to voicemail

APRIL 2012

“You know you look mad scary when you do that.”

You pause your movements, knife in hand as you slowly turn your head to look at your co-worker, Tamura, as he’s facing the mirror, readjusting his chef hat on his head. 

“Does this angle look better—” he twists it to the left so it’s slanted on his brown hair, “or this one? Which makes me look hotter?”

“The fact you’re trying to look hot in a chef hat is concerning,” you turn back to the counter and continue sharpening your knife, the unnecessarily aggressive noise making Tamura’s ears bleed at the way you’re using way too much force than needed. 

“Well, since yesterday was a hit, I’m sure we’re going to get loads of new customers. You know what that means right?”

You shake your head and he sighs loudly, “It means there’s a potential wife, sitting in that dining hall, eating my food.”

“You’re so single it’s sad to watch.” You pick up the knife and examine it, not liking how blunt the blade looks. You click your tongue and put the knife back on the whetstone.

“Why are you doing it so aggressively? Calm down, you’re not a butcher.” Tamura takes his chef hat off and moves to stand next to you. You stop your movements and turn to look up at him. “Give me the knife.”

“No.”

“Yn.”

“Tamura.”

Both of your eyes narrow as you stare each other down, not one of you wavering or breaking the contact. Your fingers tighten along the knife, gripping it tighter incase he tries to grab your wrist and snatch it from you. 

In the back of the room, the bag of flour drops on the counter. The noise has you jerking your head back to see what dropped, and Tamura quickly grabs the knife, peeling your fingers off the handle and holds it above his head, using his height to his advantage.

“Hey! Give it back.” You grab onto his sleeves, tugging his arm down but you still can’t reach the knife. “We start prep in 10 minutes, I need the fucking knife.”

“You won’t be able to prep shit if you keep sharpening it like that.”

“I don’t care! Just give me the—”

“Are you two alright?” 

The two of you turn your head towards the backdoor. Your other co-worker, Kimi, is taking off her jacket with a raised brow as she watches Tamura dangle the knife above your head, like a homemade guillotine. 

“Yeah, we’re good. Just tryna teach Yn how to sharpen her knife.”

You elbow him in the stomach, watching him groan and drop his hands to his stomach. You take the opportunity to grab the knife from him and face back towards the whetstone to continue sharpening. “I know how to sharpen, Tamura is just one hating ass individual.”

“I’m not a hater.”

Kimi tilts her head and agrees with you, “You lowkey are. You told me I wasn’t washing the dishes correctly last week.”

“Because you weren’t. I still saw soap on that shit.”

“Because I wasn’t done washing it, you asshole. And give me my chef hat back, this one is yours.” Kimi reaches inside the cupboard and tosses the big chef hat his direction, the one that stands tall on his head and not slants in one direction. 

“Ew! How am I gonna get ladies with a hat like this?”

“I don’t think the ladies will like you wearing a female hat anyway. Now man up and start preparing.” Kimi reaches behind her and ties her strings along her waist. “I spoke to the Boss today, he said we’re going to be having ‘premium guests’ today, or something.”

“Premium guests?” You remove the knife from the block and start examining the edges, much more satisfied at the sharp edges this time. “What does that mean?”

“Rich people. I hope they’re hot. Last time, it was that old dude that owns that one cereal brand. What’s it called again?”

Tamura nods as he bends down to pre-heat the oven. “That stupid ass cereal with the oats and berries inside. The packaging is straight up awful, the oat tastes like straight up wool and dried sugar, but I had to act like it was amazing in front of him. You’re so lucky I’m a good actor.”

“Ah yes, what would we do without you.” Kimi says dreamily before rolling her eyes and standing next to you to cut vegetables. “I forgot to ask,” she nudges your shoulder slightly, “how was the event yesterday? Tamura was spamming the groupchat with an X emoji and an explosion, but I don’t know what that means.”

X button? Oh. “I… saw my ex… At the event yesterday.”

“Yeah, and the tension was sick, like I felt like I was third wheeling at some point.” 

“It wasn’t that bad…” You drop the knife to rub the back of your neck awkwardly. You’d been trying to get Ran out of your head since you left the event yesterday, but it was impossible. This is bad. The Haitani effect is taking place yet again. The last time you experienced it was 4 years ago, which was when you broke up with him. 

“That bad? You should’ve seen the way his girl was glaring Yn down, I felt like I needed to drag security inside myself just to hold her down.” The room is getting stuffy with all the stoves and ovens generating heat. You feel sick and dizzy thinking about last night and you’re grateful when Tamura opens up a window.

“His girl?” Kimi reaches over and wraps her arm around your shoulder, keeping her hands away from your body since it’s covered in raw meat juice. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? I don’t want him. What we had is over. It’s finished. If anything, I’m glad he’s moved on, I’m happy, infact, I’m more than happy.”

Tamura sends Kimi a look that you can’t decipher, the heat inside the room making your brain work slower. Kimi slowly removes her hand from your side and continues chopping the beef up into chunks. “Yn, if you’re jealous, just say that.”

“Jealous? Why would I be jealous?” 

“Because he’s moved on.”

You hate this conversation so much. You hate it because it’s true. You are jealous at how good they look together. Ran looks like a professional business man, whatever his expertise is, he looks damn good. He’s aged well, that stupid haircut that’s grown on you in such an incredibly short amount of time. You can still feel your fingers running through the strands, the soft, smooth strands that have your fingers tingling with the ache of wanting to stroke his hair for longer. An action you hadn’t realised you’d craved to do all these years. 

And his girl, Naomi, you think. She looks like a supermodel. She’s taller than you first of all, which goes hand in hand with Ran’s ginormous height, she’s built like a supermodel, everything about her, slim and perfectly proportional. She looks like an ideal woman, one God crafted for Ran himself.

They look like an A-lister couple, one you’d see on the red carpet on television. 

Then…there’s you. Your average chef inside a restaurant in the middle of the city. You think you’re nothing special, in fact, part of you is even confused on how you managed to score Ran to begin with. Maybe it was before all the money, maybe it was before he suddenly got a high status to be invited to such an event in the first place. 

You loved Ran, the one with pigtail braids that you bullied him for every chance you got, you loved Ran who was always sneaking through your window late at night with bruises and cuts on his face and knuckles, you loved Ran who’d cuddle you late at night when you begged him to sleepover. You could keep going about how old Ran is way different to new Ran. 

Jealousy isn’t the right word to describe what you’re feeling when you see Ran with this new woman. You still don’t know what that word is. Hopefully as the days pass, you can get him out of your head and continue on with your life. But until then, you hope to never see him again.

The premium guests do not arrive until later that evening. The Hive is open from 10AM to 10PM everyday, but most people stop coming in before 9:30PM which gives you and your co-workers, waitresses and waiters, the time to pack your things and clean up the restaurant. 

Once it was 9:45PM, the restaurant was basically empty, with the exception of 2 tables, but they were already finishing up their plates, so you were already taking off your hairnet and apron. 

“I’m so tired.” Kimi scratches her eye with her forearm before dipping the dishes back into the soapy water. “Today was busier than usual, thanks to you guys.”

“Thanks to me.” Tamura corrects as he folds his apron into a square, tucking it nicely on the stacked pile of aprons in the closet, then grabs a broom and begins to sweep the crumbs of food and droppepd vegetables from the tiled floors. “All Yn did was gawk over her ex the entire time, and spill drinks on herself.”

“Uh—” Your voice cracks as you try to protest, then ultimately give up trying to defend yourself because everything he’s saying is true. “I hate you, and I’m going to ask to work out front starting tomorrow.”

“That’s actually a good choice!” Kimi grabs a dishcloth and wipes her soapy hands, “There’s a few job applications, young teens tryna find jobs and shit. You can train them on Wednesday, basics on how to wait tables and that.”

“I’d love to. Anything to get away from him.” You can practically feel the frown on Tamura’s face and laugh before heading over to the coat rack to grab your jacket. You stare out the window at the raindrops wetting the trees. It’s only drizzling right now, but you can tell from how grey the sky is that it’s going to get even heavier. “Ah fuck, I need an umbrella.” 

Tamura walks over to you and grabs his jacket next to yours, “Go ask Souya next door. He’s so sweet, he gave me a ketchup packet once when he saw how dry my burger was. Since then I go to him when I’m in need. Just say Tamura sent you, and then ask for the umbrella.”

“I don’t know…. asking a total stranger for something seems weird.” You stretch out your jacket, opening it wide enough for your arms to pass through the sleeves. Kimi grabs the mop from the front of the kitchen and walks through the front doors to start wiping the dining room down.

“He’s not a total stranger to me. He’s too nice to say no. God bless his soul.”

“Isn’t that just exploitation then?” 

Tamura raises his brow at the accusation. “I would never exploit someone like him, he’s so sweet, I’d feel guilty.”

“Glad you have a heart.” Tamura doesn’t notice how the sarcasm laces your voice, but when he does, he playfully hits your shoulder and tells you to knock it off. You snigger quietly when the door slams open. Kimi rushes inside with the mop and grabs her apron. 

“Guys, the guests arrived, take your shit off and start cooking.”

“Huh?” You and Tamura say at the same time, looking at each other then at the huge clock on the wall reading 9:56PM. 

“The store literally closes in 4 minutes. I don’t care if the fucking Queen is inside that dining room, I’m not servin them 4 minutes before we close.”

“Okay, I understand your mentality YN, I really do but—” Tamura notices the way Kimi’s fingers are shaking as she ties her apron strings around her waist. The normally calm and composed Kimi, now literally struggling to keep her cool around these ‘guests’. “ —but these people are very important, and I would likely not want to get on their bad side so can we just start cooking, please?”

“Did you not hear what I said?” You frown and zip up your jacket, ultimately refusing to cook for these rude guests who think they have a right to show up 4 minutes before closing time. “These people aren’t more important than the Queen or the President. I’m not cooking for them.”

“Okay, then serve them!” Kimi grabs the black apron and throws it at your face before hurriedly reaching inside the cabinets, pulling out pots and pans and whatever she could find. “GO!” She screams when you’re just standing there taking your time.

“Okay! I’m going!” You tie your apron around your waist, then pull the top half down so it acts like a skirt. You head over towards the doors and behind the counter, grabbing a notebook and pen from the shelf before making your way up the stairs. The entire time, you’re grumbling to yourself about the sheer audacity of these people, thinking they could roam inside the restaurant at such a late time and expect to get served.

Rich people don’t think about anyone but themselves.

The second you make it up the stairs, you freeze. That fucking purple haired bastard. It’s a miracle that his back is towards you so he doesn’t see you arrive, but you quickly dash down the stairs and back into the kitchen. “Nope. I’m not serving them.” You hand the notebook to Tamura, “You do it.”

“Why can’t you do it?” 

“Cause my ex is out there.”

“Your ex is a part of BONTEN?!” Tamura quickly shushes Kimi, a big palm covering her mouth as she struggles against his hold.

“Keep your fucking voice down! Are you trying to get us killed?!”

“THEY’RE SITTING UPSTAIRS RIGHT NOW! WHAT DO YOU MEAN AM I TRYING TO GET US KILLED!”

You’re so confused, watching them freak out over this supposed ‘Bonten’. What is it, and why are they so bothered about it? “Okay, well Bonten whatever. I’m not serving them. My ex is out there.”

“Yn..” Kimi pushes Tamura away from her then pinches her nose bridge. “You’re telling me you don’t care about the fact—” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “Bonten, is inside our fucking resturant?”

“H-how do you even know it’s Bonten anyway?” Tamura’s voice is kind of shaky. It’s so unbelievably weird, seeing your two best friends act so out of character over a fucking Bonten. What even is that?

“I saw the tattoo and I freaked out and came down here. They’re probably here because of you Yn.” Kimi grabbed the collar of your shirt and begins shaking you, “If I die because you decided to date a fucking Bonten member Yn, I swear I will haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Can you tell me what the fuck a Bonten is?”

Kimi is about to open her mouth when Tamura stops her, placing his hand on her shoulder while shaking his head. “Don’t ruin her innocence. She will find out when the time is right.”

“No. No time is right. I don’t have time , just tell me!”

“No.” They say simultaneously, “now go serve your boyfriend.” Tamura hands you back the notepad and pen. “Give him a lap dance or something, get on his good side so we don’t die.”

“He’s my ex.” You say sharply as you shove the notepad and pen back into his hands. “And I’m not serving him. You do it. After all, you can get on their good side or whatever so you don’t die.”

“If I go and serve them, I expect 40% of cash from both of your next paychecks.” He straighens up his uniform before taking a deep breath. You swear you can hear him muttering a prayer under his breath before he disappears inside the dining room. 

Kimi swallows thick and hard, you can hear it go down her throat before she heads back over to the counter, watching the oil in the pan heat up. It’s been five minutes and Tamura still hasn’t come back yet and Kimi starts to tug at her hair.

“He’s dead. I knew it. I knew he would die.”

You scoff and check your phone, time reading 10:04PM. You were supposed to be done, packed up and on the taxi home by now. But because of this godamn Bonten and Ran Haitani, you’re stuck inside this stupid kitchen. 

Kimi turns off the stove and takes off her apron.

“W-wait , where are you going?” You ask, putting your phone inside the back pocket of your jeans as you watch her head towards the door.

“Gonna check if my friend is dead or not.”

“He’s not dead. We didn’t hear any screams or anything.” 

Kimi pinches her nose bridge again, letting out an exhausted sigh. “Yn, these people don’t care about that stuff. They can kill in silence—”

The door nearly whacks both of you in the face as Tamura bursts through the kitchen doors with a huge smile on his face. Kimi looks mortified, she leans in to touch him to see if he’s real when he swats her hand away. “Well that went better than I expected.”

“Huh?” You and Kimi are both confused.

“They were strangely nice, also your boyfriend is fucking hilarous. I like him a lot.”

“Oh.” Kimi says, letting her guard down tremendously, “maybe all the Bonten stuff were rumours?”

“Yeah, I mean they do look a little iffy but they were strangely nice people. It was weird.”

You’re still stuck on what Tamura said about Ran. He is not nice and he’s not hilarious. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Okay,” he corrects himself, “your ex-boyfriend is fucking hilarous. Oh and he said he’s not going to order until he sees you.”

“Okay, then he can starve.”

Tamura deadpans at you before telling you to get your ass upstairs. You sigh and give in, knowing fully well Ran is definitely the type of person to just purposefully waste your time, refusing to order and refusing to let you leave the restaurant until you do what he says. The entire walk up the stairs, your nerves are on edge. You’re too nervous to realise you’d forgotten your notebook and pen inside.

You can feel your heart still inside your chest as you approach the table at the back of the room, by the large window displaying the beautiful city street lights. It’s a miracle you are still alive with no heartbeat, you feel for your pulse just under your wrist, holding your breath until you feel that little thump on your thumb, indicating you indeed still have a working beating heartbeat. 

 One of them looks up at you as you approach the table, he has a similar hair colour to Ran, that lilac purplish pinkish mullet. You recognise him as Rindo, not only is the purple eyes a dead giveaway, but you also remember Ran telling you yesterday that he and his brother got similar hairstyles. They both look a hot mess, but who are you to judge with stains on your apron from earlier cooking. Rindo nudges someone next to him, he’s got pink hair and scars on both ends of his lips.

The scar dude looks at Rindo with narrowed eyes, you can hear a faint “What?” before he looks over in your direction and the moment you meet his green eyes, you feel your blood drain from your body. They all look so…unfriendly and dominating. There’s no way these are the men Tamura said were friendly. 

The pink dude’s eyes crinkle into moon shapes as he smiles, his scars stretching as he whistles, lowly, and waves you over to the table with a huge grin. Once you’re close enough, you realise Ran isn’t even at the table, it’s just Rindo, the pink guy and some dude with white hair. You then instantly spot the tattoos on each of them. Rindo has his on his neck, just on his throat. You can’t help but imagine how painful that must’ve been and you now find it hard to swallow, cringing at the pain.

The white dude has it tattooed on the left side of his hair and he’s looking down on his phone. Either he doesn’t care about your presence, or he just doesn’t know you’re here. Either way you don’t care, the less eyes on you the better.

Finally, the pink guy. The only reason you saw his tattoo is because of his rolled up sleeves, revealing the tattoo just on his right forearm. It’s all the same tatoo, which means they’re part of a club? Or a cult? Or whatever Bonten is. 

You make a mental note to google it when you go home.

“Um, can I take your order?” You say the moment you reach the table, reaching behind your backpockets for your notepad and pen. You pull out your phone instead and then instantly cuss yourself for forgetting it on the counter downstairs.

Steadily, you try your best to ignore the eyes on you and open your phone and unlock it, clicking the notes app to take the orders. 

“You asking for my number? We just met, but I can’t deny a pretty girl, can I?” The pink-dude’s voice is soft and pleasant to listen to. It almost made you forget about what he said.

“Number— no. I’m taking your orders?...”

“Yeah, yeah. Pass the phone. I’ll put in my order.” He leans across the table and winks at you and you clutch your phone tighter, digging your nails into your phone case. The white-haired dude next to him speaks, not once looking up from his phone.

“That’s Ran’s girl, knock it off.”

“I’m his—”

“Ex .” 

There’s another voice that speaks from behind you, one that  has you snapping your back up straight. You don’t want to turn around to meet his eye, instead you feel his hands on your shoulders. “She’s my ex, ain’t that right, Yn.”

The way he says your name, in that voice— it has you swallowing hard. Slowly he starts to roll his thumbs against your shoulder, but you’re quicker, shoving his hands off of you and telling him to sit down.

He laughs and obliges, taking a seat in the chair you were just seated at. You instantly recognise Kakucho as he walks next to Ran, taking a seat next to his brother. “Hi Kakucho.” You give him a little wave of your fingers, a genuine smile plastered on your face. You liked Kakucho. Back when you were dating Ran, Kaku was always good to you.

Granted, you never spent time with any of Ran’s friends, but you did speak to them when you saw them. But you were never close. His eyebrows raise slightly, a bit shocked that you remembered his name after all these years. “Hey Yn. How’s everything?”

“Stressful, but I’m dealing with it ok.”

“Hope you’re not overworking yourself.” He’s always been the caring out of the group, even now. It makes you happy to know that someone genuinely cares about your feelings. Ran makes a dramatic effort of readjusting himself in his seat, the action temporarily cutting off the conversation between you and Kakucho. 

He reaches his hands behind him, grabbing at your wrist and dragging your arm over his shoulder. “Sit down.” You watch as he looks up at you from his seat as he asks this, his fingers gently tugging on the bracelets on your arm. His touch lingers way too long for it to be considered friendly; but then you remember who you’re dealing with here. It’s Ran fucking Haitani, he has no intention of caring about people’s personal space or if he’s crossing their boundaries. It’s something you’ve grown accustomed to, only to him even after all these years. If it were anyone else, you would’ve shoved their hands off you by now.

“Um, Ran.”

“Hm?”

“You do realise the store closed like 15 minutes ago.” 

It’s silent in the room, the only noise is the low hum of the filter inside the aquarium. “I know.” 

You hate the way you can hear the smile on his face. Looking down proves your theory, he has this proud grin on his face as he strokes your arm, kneading his fingers underneath the bracelet as he plays with the beads. 

“Wanted to get you alone, without the disturbance of other customers.” He tilts his head back to look at you, “is that so wrong?”

“Yes. It’s wrong. I was supposed to be on the cab home by now.”

The word cab makes the other men at the table cringe and groan. You scoff in annoyance. “Well not everybody has fucking limousine’s and ferrari’s or whatever bullshit you waste your money on.” 

“Ferrari’s are overrated.” You snap your head up to look at the pink dude as he spoke, “would rather have a simple Rolls-Royce.”

Simple… “Okay.”

“Shut up Sanzu. Infact, all you get the fuck out.” Ran uses his grip on your arm to tug you closer to him, your front hitting the back of his chair as you brace yourself on the top of the chair. The other men refuse to argue even though Sanzu so desperately looks like he wants to say something. They pack their things and head down the stairs, leaving you and Ran alone. “Take a seat.” 

Ran pats his lap and his legs manspread a little further, indicating you have plenty of room to sit down, incase you try to get mouthy. 

“Ran, I’m not sitting on your lap. Just tell me your order so I can make your food and you can go away.”

He pats his lap once more. “I’ll tell you my order if you sit down.”

You narrow your eyes at him for another second, pressing your lips together in a thin line before letting out a long suffering sigh. You turn on your heel and start to walk back downstairs to grab your things, when he grabs your wrist, recoiling you back behind his chair. “Okay, fine. No lap. Got it. I need to talk to you though.”

You lean forward, sliding into the chair closest to him and raise your brow. “About what?”

“I want you to be my assistant.”

“You serious?”

He leans further back into his seat and starts to drum his fingers along the table. “Yup.”

“No thanks. I’m good here.” You send him your signature fake smile you give to customers before standing up. “I’m not fit to be an assistant anyway, I like cooking.”

“You can cook as my assistant sweetheart—” you hate the way you stiffen at the old petname. Ran stands tall from his chair, grabbing your shoulders as he bends down to whisper in your ear, “—you can be my own sweet little housewife, hm?”

You know exactly what he’s referring to, and you hate him for reminding you about that incident inside the kitchen all those years ago. It’s the exact same scenario, minus the massage and the kiss. You hate the fact you feel the exact same way you did back then, back when he used his skillful fingers to try and persuade you to do what he wants. All he needs now is to use that sweet voice of his, whispering it inside your ear. 

You close your eyes shut when you feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear. God—you hate this so much. You hate the fact you enjoy this. You take a step forward and watch the smile on his face grow even wider as you speak. “I’m not going to leave my friends in this job to be a housewife Ran.” You straighten up your clothes, trying to keep your professional demeanour. “If that’s all then I’ll be going home now.”

“Mhm, see you later.”

You miss the implications of his words. Only hit you as you’re on your way down the stairs, heading back inside the kitchen. Does that mean you’re going to see him in the restaurant more often? Is he going to show up everyday to bother you? 

God, you hope not.

“I packed your things.” Tamura handed you your bag and helps you put on your jacket. He can tell by the look on your face that you’re about to ask about the food, so he speaks before you can get the chance. “And don’t worry about it. Sanzu came in here and said they aren’t ordering anything, but left us money by the front for the great company.”

“They’re actually shockingly nice. It’s…. shocking.” Kimi states as she scrolls on her phone, looking for the bus times. 

“Sanzu..?” You had to assume Sanzu was the pink haired guy, because you knew Ran, Rindo and Kakucho.

“Yeah, c’mon let's go. It’s already dark out as is.” 

The three of you grab the money inside the envelope and head outside. The rain instantly hits you guys in the face. You and Tamura wave goodbye to Kimi as she heads towards the bus stop. Tamura sends you inside the ramen shop a couple stores down, you meet Souya and he happily gives you an umbrella to use. Tamura was right, he was sweet.

By the time you get home, you then open the envelope. A bunch of notes fall out onto your lap. You jaw is down to the floor as you pick up all the notes, and start to count them. In the midst of counting, you see a white piece of paper with a number written on it in pencil. 

Bringing out your phone, you decide to punch the number in. Just as soon as you’re about to send a message to the number, a notification pops up from the top of your phone from the groupchat.

[Tamura]: DID ANYONE ELSE GET A NUMBER? INSIDE THEIR ENVELOPE

[You]: Yup i dont know whos it is tho

[Tamura]: its sanzu i just texted him he said he rlly likes me and he wants me to be his assistant

What the fuck is up with these dudes and assistants? Can they not get the job done themselves? 

[Kimi]: no way. He just asked me to be his assistant. Im not sharing a role with you tam.

[Tamura]: well boohoo he likes me more  😈  😈 

[You]: dont tell me you guys are even considering the offer…. Weren’t you guys like scared shitless of them not even two hours ago?? 😭

[Kimi]: i mean yeah… but like… money. DID U COUNT HOW MUCH HE GAVE US ?? IM BROKE YN I NEED MONEY

[Tamura]: RIGHT?>. TF ILL DO ANYTHING FOR THIS AMOUNT OF MONEY.

[You]: AM I THE ONLY ONE THAT HAS MORALS?! I AINT JOINING THEM FOR NO AMOUNT OF MONEY

[Kimi]: well u can stay broke shitttt im texting sanzu rn. Brb

[Tamura]: this bitch stealing my man and my job. Fuck u

[Kimi]: 💋xoxo

[You]: u both are insane. Im going to bed.

[Tamura]:  yn just take the jobbbbbb. Let go of your pride and take the damn job. 

[Tamura]: u dont even have to work with your ex. Just work with his brother or something

[You]: ....

+++

almost 8k words. wow. i like long fics hehe

dont be afraid to tell me if u liked it i rlly enjoy hearing you guys opinons on the story so far <3 reblogs are appreciated tysm

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