#knboneshot

You have known each other for a long time, but sometimes you still wonder what’s going on in his head.

Especially when he is so quiet and silent. 

Today, however, the situation is worse than usual, as he has even offered to help you with the houseworks, without specifying the details of his reward. 

The main event is to clean up the black hole he calls the 'drawer of my basketball stuff'. 

Daiki's not messy, he's just lazy: he doesn't take the trouble to fold his shirts, uniforms, shorts or hang up his socks but he gets upset when he can't find what he wants to wear, especially if it's for practice or a game. He will chase you around the house yelping like a hungry puppy until you, exhausted by his complaints, plunge your magical hands into that pandemonium of technical clothing and pull out what he wants; each time arousing his amazement and unleashing an exaggerated gratitude that is both sincere and mischievous.

But today is different.

You can tell by the way he follows your instructions without distraction, you can see it in the way he meticulously folds his clothes and places his terry socks in the compartments. He doesn't complain, he doesn't find an excuse to go for his phone, he doesn’t try to lift you and throw you on the bed, claiming a sudden dizziness because of the little attention you're giving him.

He behaves well, very well, that's why you have mixed feelings. 

"Are you in the mood for something different for dinner tonight ?" you ask, turning your eyes to his, busy trying to figure out if the arm bands he holds in his hands are the same colour or not.

"Your choice babe, I'm up for anything!" he replies with a smile.

"Veggie burgers and mashed potatoes?" you offer, aware of the avalanche of complaints that will soon overwhelm you. Veggies are a forbidden, dark spell in his vocabulary, especially since it was your revelation that chips are not real food, let alone vegetables.

Daiki blinks and returns your hug, running his big hand down your back before leaning in for a chaste, lip-smacking kiss.

" All right babe, gonna eat veggies if it makes you happy ! " he sighs, shrugging his shoulders in a surrender that is as easy as it is suspicious.

You tie your hair up in a ponytail, wash your hands, open the big fridge in the kitchen, arrange carrots, celery, onions, cabbage and shiitake mushrooms on the chopping board and sigh. From the kitchen window, your gaze falls on the pedestrian street where, under the yellowish light of street lamps, you see many people enjoying the cold, clear evening. They walk slowly, hand in hand, flowers and presents swinging from their arms. Some are posing romantically in front of the large maple tree, others are exchanging shy glances, while scattered singles are looking around nervously, sure that someone exciting, their beloved maybe, will suddenly appear around the corner. All that love frenzy for no apparent reason, as if Cupid himself was shooting arrows at them or there was a virulent epidemic of romance in the air.

Only then you realise what a day it is,above all you realise that you have not prepared or bought anything for him. Valentine's day was about to slip through your fingers, caught up as you were running from one end of your life to the other, trying to carve out a few hours just for the two of you. Hours you wasted cleaning your house, teaching him the useless art of folding clothes and matching socks, instead of celebrating what you achieved in your relationship. You should have told him how happy you were to turn your head and find him beside you, buy a sweet treat to share, or at least dress in something nicer than an old cartoon hoodie and leggings. Small signs of care, so unusual to someone as independent as you, but that instead came so easy from him, who isn't the best at speeches, but who affirms his feelings every day through small gestures addressed to you and you only.

You look at the ceramic bowl full of the tangerines he peeled without even asking, because he knows how much you like them; but he also knows how much the smell of orange oil on your fingers annoys you. You touch their firm slices, the white veins, the cold white surface of the bowl, lost in your thought until you sense his figure behind your back. You feel the warmth of his large frame, the good smell of his skin, his strong arms sliding around your waist, his chin resting on your head, his hands lazily caressing your womb and hips until he feels you relax against his chest.

" I forgot it’s Valentine's day" you admit, earning an amused chuckle behind your shoulders "It just slipped off my mind" you repeat, almost horrified at your own alleged negligence.

" Are you apologising for forgetting a sappy commercial festivity ?" the boy's voice adds ironically, then closes his lips on your head, on your temple, turning you gently around to look into his eyes to put your guilt at rest for good “Who cares, babe” he concludes, caressing your nape with his long fingers .

"I'm so sorry, Daiki, I didn't mean to" you confess, lowering your eyes and feeling your body wrapped by his broad shoulders, his arms holding you tightly, his nose bumping into yours just to give you a fleeting eye contact before closing your mouth with his, chasing away those bitter, meaningless words. You feel his warm hand on the back of your spine, his knee slipping mischievously between your legs, his lips leaving yours only for the time of those words. 

"Let me make it simple: as long as I have you, fuck Valentine's Day! " he exclaims, shifting the attention of his incredible eyes from yours to a spot on your neck which he first rubs with his thumb and then closes between his lips, determined to give you an everlasting memory of the night. You try to answer, but all he wants is to know that you will give in. You feel your body go soft, almost liquid, under the touch of his fingers. You call his name and he moans in response, pressing you against the kitchen counter, stopping his love attack as breathless words escape your lips: "I love you with all my heart". 

You can almost feel him shiver, you can see him blink, his eyes get a little moist and he looks at you with genuine astonishment, for you are rarely so brave in expressing your feelings. He smiles at you and brings his lips to yours for a second, enjoying yet another provocation he can't seem to let go of. "That’s quite a gift, babe, let me return the favour " he adds, making you sit down on the kitchen counter to thank you, peppering your smiling face with little kisses until you, bothered by all the senseless sweetness, push him away with a gentle shove.

"You’re so annoying! " you giggle, as you get some more kisses and a new set of teases. “But still, you love me with all your heart!” he fondly corrects you, caressing your cheek with his long fingers, bringing his lips close to your earlobe, never taking his mischievous gaze from your eyes. 

“I definitely do” you nod, eliciting an amused look. 

You bend your head towards him, letting your cheekbone rest against his skin, breathing his breath, tightening your lips, preparing yourself for the most sensual of offers, which is not long in coming.

Taiga had tried hard not to fall in love with you, had really tried to ignore your gentle ways, your figure soft in all the places he liked best and your eyes, so bright as they intercepted his when he lingered to look at you. He'd even made a list of all the things he found irritating about you, put off by the disappointment of not having you in his arms during those nights that seemed endless.

Too bad he now felt like a zombie, and he probably even looked like one, given your puzzled expression when you had greeted him at the campus cafeteria. He was tired, numb and hungry, three of the worst conditions for doing what he had put off for too long: confessing his feelings to you.

To make things worse, he was afraid that all this tiredness would make his feelings for you even more obvious. When you were around, he never managed to say anything intelligent or meaningful, just grunted half-answers and quickly changed the subject, expecially when the conversation turned to romantic matters. This made him even more insecure, because he didn't even know what your type was; if you had one.

How could a guy like him, who was only good at sports, be your type?

Princess, that's what he would have called you in his private conversations with the boys on the basketball team, if he hadn't been afraid of being teased to death. Too bad you were indeed rare and precious in his eyes, and worthy to rule the law, especially in the realm of his heart. 

"How pathetic!" he huffed, drawing your attention away from the phone.

"It is" he heard you nod " But, on the bright side, if we order the Valentine's menu we get free strawberry cake! Looks delicious, doesn’t it?" you asked, showing him your phone screen, where the red and white cake stood out.

You were the one who looked delicious, according  to him. 

“Whatever, any extra large menu will be fine, go get your damn cake!" he replied, earning a smile and a pat on the head in gratitude. 

How could he ignore how much he adores you, when such a simple gesture could quicken his pulse? He sighed and leaned his face into his hand, as he watched your figure walk away towards the order totem pole. 

What an absolute loser he must have looked in the eyes of everyone watching you! 

Not even the kindness of walking you to get your food, not even a compliment, just his stubborn tough guy pose. He was afraid of being hurt, that was the truth. If things didn't go as planned, he couldn't bear to lose you as a friend, but most of all he couldn't bear to see you happy with someone else. It was not possessiveness on his part, but rather further proof of how much he needed you.

"Taiga, you're being particularly weird today! " you inform him as you sit down next to him, a waft of your good scent reaching his nostrils, making it impossible not to think about how much he'd like to take you in his arms and kiss you.

"Not enough sleep, that's all! " he replies boredly, fiddling with the electronic device, deluding himself that squeezing it might speed up the vibration that alerts you that you lunch’s ready.

"What's bothering you? The winter tournament is over, the summer one is far away, your grades are decent..." he hears you sigh, roll your eyes into his and tighten your lips, as if you had just realised something obvious. 

Too bad, the only thing he's sure of is that he didn't understand anything, not even why you suddenly offered to go to the counter and get your lunch in person. Maybe you can't even stand his presence anymore, or maybe the damn cake is more interesting than him.

Lunch passes slowly, unusually quiet.

You finally get to the cake, but even that doesn't seem to put you in a good mood. You barely nibble at it with your fork, bringing a few crumbs to your lips, before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"Isn't it good?" the redheaded boy asks you. He sees you shake your head as he takes a generous bite for himself and tastes it, approving its edibility.

"Listen Taiga" your voice catches his attention "I shouldn't tell you because I promised, but I can't see you like this, so listen well : Reiko likes you, stop worrying. Eat your cake and run to her. It's Valentine's Day, nothing can go wrong today!” you state and watch, as he puts another big forkful of cake in his mouth. 

What happens next, even Kagami doesn't remember how it happened. 

What he does remeber is that the sticky icing on the cake suddenly stops him from breathing, he can't get the cake out of his throat, he can't even cough, he can only feel his lungs beating against his chest in search of air.

Then come your hands on his back, bringing oxygen back to him with quick, rhythmic strokes, taking breath back to him and drawing him close to you. You do not care about his cough, you caress his head and do not lose sight of him until his breathing becomes normal and his cheeks lose colour. What hurts Taiga's heart is to see your shining eyes, your worried face, to feel your hands slowly pull away from his hair.

"Don't do this" his voice pleads, his hands running down your arms, squeezing you so tightly that you are the one who needs air now. You rest your forehead in the hollow of his shoulder and hear him sigh as you confess that you were so scared, that he is still the same old idiot, that you have told him a thousand times that big bites are not only disgusting but dangerous and that you would be lost without him and his ugly face.

Then, you look at him because he calls your name.

"I like you" he says simply, staring at you intensely, "That's why I'm torn, because I like you and I don't know how to tell you!" he finishes, blushing a little.

You blink when you hear these words, thinking you've been dreaming.

Perhaps the lack of oxygen has caused him to suffer a momentary hallucination, perhaps this is a clear sign that you should call for help, or perhaps not, as his large hand caresses your cheek and brings your lips close to his, in a gesture that is at once tender and sensual.

"I want to kiss you, spend my days with you, wake up with you, sleep with you. I want to call you princess, I want everyone to know that you are my princess. Mine and mine alone. Just tell me you want it too" he explains. 

“Of course I do, I've always wanted you but I always thought that you… ” you stutter, making him smile.

"Enough talk, come here princess" his deep voice urges you.

His fingers cradle your face, his eyes light up when he sees you nod, his lips welcome yours without hesitation and he gives you the first of a long series of kisses: the same ones that, from that day on, he rewards you with to put up with that cheesy nickname.

Shintaro Midorima doesn't act like other boyfriends.

He doesn't giggle at your every joke, he doesn't bother to get on your best friend's good side, he doesn't seek everyone's approval by losing himself in pointless flirting in public.

Sometimes he seems so cold towards you, that your classmates almost take it for granted that your relationship is over.

Yet Shintaro would do anything to know you're happy, no matter how uncomfortable it makes him, or how far he exceeds his tolerance threshold.

That's why he wrote you that note, tucked between the pages of your notebooks, where he gives you a date in an unusual place, the town swimming pool.

"Don't be late darling, mind you!"

You read that postscript with a smile, because you imagine his serious expression as he affixes those austere but tender words on the fine paper card.

Shintaro, who has the most beautiful and greenest eyes you have ever seen, with which he never lets you out of his sight, sends you the first and the last text message of the day. Your Shin-chan, who always happens to have your favourite sweets with him, who always knows when you need a break or an excuse to take a break and get a drink from the faculty vending machines.

Small, discreet, intimate, exclusive gestures. An oasis of peace amidst the noise of loud vocals,  kisses and outings to fashionable clubs shared on social networking sites by every couple in your circle of friends. 

You don't need any of that, you know it right from the first time his long hands stroked down your back to keep you close to him.

His embrace, your favourite place in the whole universe.

His smile, so rare for others but so familiar to you, never missing from his lips when you are together.

That is the first detail you notice as you approach him at the swimming centre.  His hand takes yours and brings it to his lips, a gesture that makes your heart skip a beat each time. 

He touches your face with his hand, bringing you close to repeat the same gesture on your cheek, on your temple, observing you with tenderness and dedication as if he were contemplating a priceless work of art.

"Come with me" his voice is serene and deep, his fingers clasp yours. In the movement towards the roof of the building you perceive the good scent of his cologne, the one you chose for him and that never fails on each of your dates.

You follow him, enchanted by his elegant figure, his steady gait, reassured by his hand gripping yours tightly, his face often turned to you to gauge your state.

"Ready?" he asks you and you think your heart is about to explode when you see his expression so sweet and yet so impatient. 

You nod, letting his long arms encircle you.

Beyond the heavy metal door of the terrace, you are greeted by the most incredible sky you have ever seen: strokes of red, yellow, pink chase each other among the rare clouds, breaking the greyness of the city. 

You feel your boyfriend's arms tighten on your womb, his breath is serene, his lips resting against your hair.

 "We said no presents, Shin-chan" you take him back lovingly abandoning yourself against him "I’ll never be able to reciprocate something like that!" you conclude, turning around, looking at his smiling face, closing your eyes when his hands cup your face. 

"Every moment spent with you is a gift to me, I'll have to give you many more surprises before I'm even" he tells you, looking into your eyes, making you blush.

Shintaro smiles and you think you have never loved someone so much.

You raise your head towards him and when your lips meet, you know he feels the same way.

You get off the metro, and after a short walk you find yourself in front of a row of buildings all alike, dense like the cells of a beehive, closed around a sort of common space that probably should have been a recreational area equipped with facilities, but now only looks decadent, sad and rusty. He saw  groups of children playing haphazardly and cheerfully, kids with loud music watching you quizzically, elderly people raising their hands to wave at you, bullies making offers that fall on deaf ears, until you find yourself in a narrow, dark alley, right behind what must once have been a basketball court. Yet the entrance to the diner was on the main face of the building, as the arrow of the sign suggests. 

"Come, don't be afraid, looks bad but it's safe" you mock him gently, your hand reaching for his one, your fingers interlacing with his to reassure him, but the effect his body sends back is a wave of overwhelming desire that makes his blood boil in his ears and leaves him unable to articulate words. He runs the palm of his hand along your forearm, over your skin, so soft and smooth. You look at him, open your lips to tell something, but he has already lost the ability to understand. Skinship, attraction, risk, a lethal mixture is pumped through his veins at an unsustainable pace.  He is about to close his fingers around your elbow to pull you to him and take you, locking you against that cold brick wall, when a male voice roars your name and divides you.

Poppa is a giant with a contagious good temper and arrogant, hearty cooking, who immediately sets you up at the best table in the place, in the small green space at the end of the dark alley, just behind his kitchen. Your burger looks alive, judging by the amount of toppings and cheese it leaks, which is why you are teased by both of them, who over the years must have honed an exact technique for holding bread, meat and toppings together.

"It's not a guy who looks like him, Pops" you explain, making the man's eyes widen "I brought you the real deal!" you smile, taking a long sip of water. Now the man's attention shifts to you, because "He knew he had seen you somewhere before".

"That's me Sir. Aomine Daiki, the one who plays in Cleveland" you reply and see the man's eyes light up with joy. "Man! We are all crazy about you, you're a genius!" the man shouts, calling out to all his kitchen staff, so that they too can shake hands and take pictures with the man who scored an average of 22 points per game in the last championship. It starts a party, which soon involves the whole block and in which he seems completely at ease, so much so, that he willingly accepts to shoot a few rounds with a group of boys from the local team, raising the already torrid temperature considerably, when he takes off his shirt and asks you to keep it, completely unaware of the emotional tsunami that watching him play causes. If Daiki in grandma's kitchen is attractive, in his element he is the most sensual and exciting man walking on earth. The way he moves, his absolute mastery of his body, those bright eyes full of agonism and above all his smile so radiant and seductive, which he never fails to turn on you after every point scored.

"Awesome!" shouts the girl sit next to you on the bench.

To you it's not awe, it's crave.

That dangerous feeling does not leave you even when you return to the metro, when you shower in your flat only to knock on his door shortly afterwards, having agreed to have dinner with him, bewildered as you were by lust.

You find him exactly as you left, absorbed in a phone call with someone he likes as he laughs, but that's all you can understand as he speaks a fascinating but unfamiliar language to you, which makes his voice sound even deeper.

"Excuse me, bestfriends catchup" he smiles, as you reach to take two glasses from his hands, asking if he can get you water instead of the caffeinated drink he opens for himself.

"I can't sleep lately, so I'm trying to ... " you stop, because there is no need for him to know that embarrassing fact about you. He glances at you fondly, as if he really cares about your story.

"Yeah I mean, it's a period where I should also call someone special to relax" you cut in short, taking a sip of water.

“You can call him, I'm sure he'd love to be your hero! ” he suggests.

"Him who, though? Elliott?" you ask, as you follow him moving away from you to retrieve a set of flyers from the fridge.

"Your boyfriend" he says, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

"I don't have a boyfriend " you answer with undue urgency, figuring out shortly afterwards the genesis of that misunderstanding, as Grandma had muddled up Elliott's boyfriend as yours.

"Time to get one, if you don't want the situation to worsen! " he says, approaching you, taking advantage of your discomfort to mess up your hair, and leave the flyers in your hands, with the options from which you will have to choose your dinner. Then he finally goes to take a shower, smiling at you blushing at his soft tease.

A normal routine.

"For a couple " adds your brain, which has evidently lost all its best cells, and can't think of anything else. You sit on the chubby rough linen sofa in the big white living room, look at the dark marble of the fireplace, the high neoclassical walls, the windows with their thin curtains, close your eyes and lean your head , trying to avoid the storytelling of that absurd fantasy. Yet, all the naughty things you two could be busy doing on every surface of that huge house, are the only thoughts swirling around in your head. That sharp desire takes all your energy away, surely making you look pathetic in his eyes, actually used to see models, and not a vapid chick like you. You rub your face and take a deep breath, feeling a sudden saddness that makes your body heavy.

He quickly ran a towel through his hair, pulled on a white T-shirt, fastened his dark trousers and inhaled, because after that day, it had been a terrible idea to ask you to stay for dinner. He wasn't ready, and now what he had felt after your last conversation was haunting him, reverberating endlessly in his mind. He wanted to take care of you, he wanted to be him and no one else the mainstay of your life, and that was upsetting, because that was not the way he was. He was careless, free, unattached. Yet he would not have tolerated you perceiving him that way. He wanted to be infallible in your eyes. He wanted to be the one, unrepeatable, incomparable, irreplaceable.

And then he wanted to have you. He wanted to have you so badly.

He smiled because on the large sofa in the living room you looked so tiny, all curled up on one of the large linen cushions, one bare foot on the edge of the furniture, your small hand beside your sleeping face, your soft breathing , your hair spread over your shoulders left bare by the pretty blue dress you were wearing.

Too damn cute.

He dimmed the lights in the room until they went out, leaving only the pale reading light on, retrieved a blanket, but stopped shortly after because a sudden flick of your eyelids caught his attention. 

"Dai-ki," you tell him with a sigh, probably still in dreamland, as you can't keep your eyes open. You smile as he approaches and slowly strokes your head, running his fingers through your hair and over the nape of your neck, sitting on the rug at the foot of the sofa so he can see you.

" I'm here" he says gently to your sleeping self, resuming his slow, sweet caress.

"Speak to me, tell me something in your language, anything " you call him out in a smooth voice, so innocent but with a hint of need that immediately roused all his senses

"Daisuki na, oyasumi nasai. Yoku nemureru to iine." (*) he indulges you idly, more to himself, thinking that you may have already caught up on your sleep, so beautiful and cuddly that those words come out naturally, as if he is breathing.

"Your voice is so sultry , it gives me chills " you murmur, blinking a little, your soft lips curving upwards.

"Chills?" he asks back, amused.

"Anything about you is so damn attractive, do you have any idea how tiring it is to resist ? " you admit, laughing quietly at your own boldness, turning towards him, so close you can feel his scent. He smiles at you, bringing your forehead into contact with his. You open your eyes and you feel your body slightly shiver , when he demands your undivided attention, pressing his thumb against your lower lip as he whispers those words.

"Then don't"

He closes the distance between you, working his way over you, locking his eyes in yours, making you sigh. His lips join yours with a light touch, that immediately deepens. He smiles against your lips, his tongue plays with yours, his voice claims you with a sensual moan to which you immediately surrend, as you do not want him to miss anything about you. You smile just to catch your breath, and kiss him back wholeheartedly. His eyes close ever so slightly after yours, allowing him to lose himself completely in your warmth.

It hadn't happened to you for so long that you had almost forgotten. You had forgotten what it was like to wake up in the house of someone who smiled at you, while you were having breakfast on the terrace of his flat, who stole your food, teasing you because you had fallen asleep like a stone on his sofa. A funny, handsome man with a childlike soul who, only a few days earlier , you had hoped would spend the off season light years away from you, but who now, leaning next to you on the railing of his flat, already seemed too far away.

(*): Hopefully it's the correct form for "Goodnight, my love. I hope you sleep well"

Boston, Massachusetts,

Saturday 18:45 ET

A clear October evening.

That you were the best in the firm was a given, just as it was a given that the profiles of the most demanding, fussy and obnoxious clients were punctually assigned to you because you had never failed to find them the perfect home.

It certainly wouldn't have been him who had brought down your self-esteem, nor the entire office's trust in you. If only your client had at least deigned to answer emails or phone calls, maybe things would not have dragged on so long, making your boss impatient.

You were really wasting too much time on the whims of the doctor.

You had scanned the entire city looking for a space that could meet his absurd standards, you had had to mark the builder down to get the keys to that flat that had just been finished, you had begged, threatened, seduced him until, moved to pity, he had granted you a preview for a week but that monster client of yours, had systematically postponed your appointment, as if nothing had happened, claiming one work engagement after another.

"I can't predict the flow in the emergency room, there are priorities in life " he had commented in his monotone voice with his characteristic snottiness. 

What a nerve, what a nuisance, what a boor. 

He was always looking down on you, and not just because he was incredibly tall and athletic, but just for the sake of giving you unsolicited life lessons. You could see how much he enjoyed rejecting your every proposal. You already knew that a flat would not be to his taste as soon as he moved his long, elegant fingers from his glasses and his incredible green eyes sought yours.

"Too small"

"Too big"

"Badly exposed"

"Noisy"

" Too far away from the workplace"

Diagnosis.

With him, houses turn into a heap of irredeemable defects, as if your efforts were worthless, as if he was too smart for you, too much in general. He didn't even spare a glance at you. Not even when, to provoke him, you had worn your infallible suit you were able to grasp his attention.

And now this too.

"I won't go into detail, but we have to reschedule, I've been called away on an urgent matter" he tells you, not even listening to your remarks. 

The perfect house tomorrow will be for sale, and you not only risk making the worst impression in your whole life by not having concluded the sale despite the preview, but he will remain like an indelible stain on your white shirt of infallibility.

"I have found the solution that meets all your demands and I intend to show it to you tonight. Call me at any time, I will pick you up straight away from the hospital" you propose, in a peremptory tone.

"It will be late, certainly after nine o'clock " he replies annoyed.

"I will also bring you dinner if you need it, but we have to see that house tonight, doctor !" you cut it short, waiting for him to finish giving instructions to his colleagues and pay attention to you.

"As you like, call you back " he snorts and hangs up.

What a big boor.

A few blocks away, Dr. Midorima's day was about to take the worst possible direction. An accident on the motorway had brought traffic to its knees, ambulances came and went and unfortunately for some innocent drivers, nothing could be done. After his last phone call with the police, he put down the receiver of the doctor's office telephone, and told himself that his day had been hard enough. He was actually looking for the strength to contact you, the furious girl from the real estate agency, to stand you up again but the mere thought of it made him feel guilty. He was tired of living in a hotel room, and he was tired of coming across as an obnoxious and icy man, especially with you, who had tried so hard to comply with his every request.

What a bizarre person fate had made him meet. He remembered that you were of the sign of Scorpio, just like his great friend Takao, and perhaps that was why he found you just as annoying.  He had never met a woman like you : as sweet in appearance as determined in reality. He had been fooled by your large, bright eyes, your polite manners even when your patience was tested, your spontaneous smile when a detail of the house you had selected for him, met his taste.

No, he could not disappoint your expectations this time either.

He pulled his mobile phone out of his coat pocket and was pleased to discover that your proposal from a few hours earlier, was still valid. He changed quickly, buttoned his long dark blue coat, put on his leather gloves and a cashmere scarf, and was ready to leave. When he arrived in front of the hospital park, he was surprised to see you at the wheel of your car with a big smile on your lips. It was now past ten o'clock, the evening was cold and clear, but there didn't seem to be any snow yet. The ideal evening not to be alone with your thoughts, not to think about the past with melancholy.

A little human warmth after a devastating day, was all he needed.

"Dr. Midorima, I'm sure I won't let you down this time!" she said as you buckle your seatbelt, making you laugh.

"I'm not here to give you a grade, I'm here to find a place to stay in" you had told her sounding overly arrogant, but she seemed so happy that you were there, that she hadn't paid any attention and started listing the many benefits of her discovery.

It was a journey that lasted about ten minutes, mostly spent talking about trivialities, your hands clinging to the steering wheel as if it were the last lifeboat on the Titanic, your attention at its best trying to avoid even the slightest smear that might compromise the opinion that this demanding man had surely formed of you.

You had never felt this way before, you had never met such a picky, charming client and the fact that you had spent the last two hours fantasising about all sorts of romance with him in the hospital car park, had probably not helped your peace of mind. It had taken you a while to admit it, but as soon as you had put the handsome doctor next to you, instead of in the middle of every available flat in the area, everything had become clear. Hence that strange feeling now that you were standing side by side in the large lift of the elegant apartment complex, heading for flat 505.

You are so flustered that your fingers seem to get knotted so that ,to avoid dropping your dinner on the floor in an attempt to pass the takeaway flap from one hand to the other, you drop the builder's large set of keys on the floor. 

"Let me help you " he offers, reassuring you with a brief smile before asking you which key was the correct one for the heavy metal security door. As he opens the door and gives way to you, you can't help but think that this work appointment might seem like a romantic date to strangers. You thank him and are about to turn on the light, when you feel his fingers stop yours on the switch, probably struck by the same sight that immediately catches your attention. In the industrial loft, all red brick and steel, the view of the city is breathtaking. The large living room window focuses the gaze to the sea of lights from both the city and the harbour , creating a unique, almost dreamy atmosphere.

The large space of the kitchen remains in semi-darkness, revealing the light parquet floor, the shiny steel surfaces and the large workbench where you put down the envelope from 'Legal Seafoods', from which you picked up what will be your dinner, but which he does not seem to care about.

You smile as you see his tall, elegant figure standing out like a shadow as he observes the landscape, his coat swaying slightly, his shoulders broad, his long arms along his sides, like a romantic pirate saying goodbye to his homeland before an adventure, but also like a child watching the Christmas lights for the first time.

"What an amazing sight " he smiles at you, a smile so spontaneous, warm and grateful that you can't help but blush vividly.

"That's why I wanted you to see it" you agree, thanking the dimness that allows you not to reveal that moment of weakness of yours.

"Shall we turn on the lights?" he asks you and you nod, pretending you care to show him the features of the house. After all that is a business appointment, that ends to the client's great satisfaction in the canonical hour you usually reserve for visits.

You feel sad, because when he tells you to arrange the papers, you know your daydream is coming to an end.

Or maybe not.

"What did you bring me for dinner?" he suddenly asks you, noticing the takeaway box on the kitchen table.

" Lobster roll, the Boston way to say 'Welcome in town' !" you inform him proudly, reaching over to hand him a carefully packed wrapper, which he looks at in your hands, but does not accept. 

"Don't you like lobster?" you ask with a hint of concern, because things have gone far too smoothly at that point.

"Lobster is fine, but let's get it right " he tells you as he passes you to turn off the lights again. You don't object when, having retrieved your dinner, his hand takes yours and guides you towards the large window. He asks you to hold the bag in your hands, and with an effortless movement he takes off his coat, which ends up on the floor to serve as a blanket for your improvised picnic. He holds out his arm and seats you, then sits down next to you, dividing his attention between you and the view.

"Thank you for finding me a place where I can feel at home, I will always owe you one " he tells you in such a sweet tone that you feel your heart skipping a beat.

"It was my pleasure, Dr. Midorima " you smile at him, moving your hand and involuntarily touching his.

"Shintaro, please call me Shintaro " he reveals to you, bringing his fingers between yours.

"You'll have to invite me to dinner to clear your debt, then, Shintaro" you disclose smoothly, observing his handsome face once more. Green orb staring lovely at your lips, his silky hair pulled behind his ears, his soft lips curved up in such a tender smile.

"You already know where I'm gonna live, feel free to come over anytime !" he invites you, dissolving your contact with a light kiss on your knuckles.

Your mind told you that you were wasting too much time on the whims of doctor Midorima , but your heart...

Your heart had only seen Shintaro from day one, even behind that cold and indifferent surface.

After all, you were the girl who never failed to find the perfect home to perfect strangers, how can you go wrong with yours ?