#stellarwrites

It began as some garbled talking thirty minutes ago, which was usually tolerable. It felt like you were listening to a podcast or television show in the background as white noise. You didn’t mind it at first—maybe he was on call with friends, but why did they choose something heated and intense?

Unable to bear it any longer, you decide to knock on the wall separating your rooms, hard enough that you’re sure he’s going to hear. 

And, it…works? He stops talking for a few moments before resuming at a bearable volume.

Satisfied, you lean back into your pillow, tugging your blanket closer to your body. Huh. That wasn’t so-

Another string of loud curses follows. Instantly, your eyes shoot open, and you sit up, enraged. 

If this were another day, a less sleep-deprived you might have walked over to his apartment and calmly told him to keep it down. However, after working a few hours of overtime to cover for an incompetent officemate? You eventually decide that the best course of action is: “Hey, shut the fuck up!”

Your voice cracks a little from the sudden burst of volume, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. 

“It is two AM, and I have to wake up in four hours for a whole day of work. I don’t know who the hell you’re talking to, or what you’re doing, but have some respect, dude!”

Your throat immediately feels tight when you finish, but at the very least, the frustration has rushed out of your body. You prepare for your neighbor to yell back or retort, if not apologize, but you’re met with silence.

You breathe steadily, ready to verbally defend yourself, but nothing comes. Did it work?

Five minutes pass. Ten minutes. Fifteen…

You lose track of time, lulled to sleep by the peace and quiet.

The next few days, you no longer hear any noise from your neighbor at the ungodly hours. Sure, maybe you hear the accidental bump of whatever furniture is positioned against your shared wall, but nothing more.

You want to celebrate a little, considering that you’ve probably driven your point home. Even better, that officemate of yours had been fired. It turns out that the one time they forced you to cover for them was the last straw for your boss. Apparently, they had taken advantage of the fact that you were a newcomer who had no idea of their work ethic. 

That sucked, but at least you don’t have to worry about them anymore. You just want to celebrate the first two weeks you’ve spent at your new apartment. 

To your luck, you get an opportunity to do so when you enter the lobby after a tiring workday.

“Hi, darling!” A middle-aged lady greets you enthusiastically. “Are you the new girl from 203?”

You stop in your tracks, trying to remember if you’ve seen her before. With how chummy she seems to be with the lobby staff, you figure she’s also a resident. “Good evening, yes, I am.”

“Great! I live in 206, just a few rooms away. I heard about a new tenant moving in from the manager, so I just wanted to welcome you.”

“That’s great, um…” You pause. “Sorry, I didn’t get your name…?”

“Shimura-san! Sorry, I can’t believe I forgot to introduce myself. I live with my husband and son down the hall,” she chuckles. “Anyway, we like to invite the second-floor residents over for dinner. We have monthly potlucks sometimes, if we’re not all that busy. Since you’re new, we’d like to invite you over sometime this week, if you’d like. Heck, if you’re hungry, you could come over in an hour!”

Your eyebrows shoot up. Come to think of it, you recall the apartment manager talking about a certain Shimura-san. This must be her, then.

“In an hour?! Oh, I don’t want to trouble you-” 

Your stomach growls, cutting you off. Shimura-san laughs as your face heats up. 

“Hm, I don’t know about that.” She shakes her head. “Looks to me like you’re in need of a good meal. We’re already preparing for dinner, anyway, so it’s not much trouble.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Yes! I’ve got my son helping out, don’t sweat it.” She waves a hand. “Seems like you just came from work, so go and freshen up, okay?”

You’re almost taken aback by this woman’s personality, but you smile, thinking about how she somewhat reminds you of your own mother. So, you nod and accept her invitation.

“Okay, see you later! I’ll just go to the konbini to buy a few things.”

With that, she waves goodbye, and you make your way to the staircase leading to the second floor. Hm, maybe you’ve got some pretty lovely neighbors, too.

When you arrive at the Shimuras’ place, you’re welcomed warmly.

“Welcome! Please make yourself comfortable.” She opens her arms wide. “My husband just had some overtime tasks to deal with this evening, so he’ll be coming a little later. My son’s over in the kitchen.”

You nod, taking in their living space. It definitely seems very lived in, with all the personal belongings and decorations.

“Hey, Takashi! Come say hello to our guest!”

His head pops out from the corner, and he gives a small wave. 

“Ah, that boy.” Shimura-san snorts. “He’s sometimes shy with strangers, but he’ll warm up quite fast if he decides he likes you.”

“I see.” You smile as he disappears back into the kitchen. “I used to be that way.”

“Ah, then you understand. Great!” She waits until you’ve taken your shoes off and points to the spare slippers at the side. “You know, a part of me wishes that the boy from 204 would warm up too. He has yet to come over for dinner. I’m just glad that he accepts any leftover food we bring to him.”

“204?” You whip your head up.

“Yes, your neighbor. Have you met him?”

You nearly make a face. Sort of. 

“No…”

“I see. The other neighbors haven’t seen him much either. But, of course, he could just be a really cautious and shy person.” 

Didn’t seem that way when he was crashing out!

“So, whatever the reason, we just give him the space he needs.” Shimura-san sighs. “Anyway, enough of that, let’s eat!”

You’re guided to the dining area, where a fresh spread of colorful dishes lines the table. 

“Wow!” You can’t hide the surprise that hits you. “That’s…aw, I haven’t had a homemade meal like this since moving here.”

“I figured.” She directs you to your seat. “Work takes a lot of energy, and so does cooking. That’s why I chose the latter for our family.”

You smile at her. “And you do it really well.”

“Do I get credit for boiling the edamame and popping them out?” Her son pipes up as he brings a final dish to the table, drawing out a laugh from you. 

“Yeah, of course you do!” Shimura-sun ruffles his hair as he takes a seat. “Anyway, this is Takashi. He’s in his last year of junior high school.”

“Oh, so you’re about fourteen now?”

He nods in response. For some reason, his eyes linger on you for a while, only stopping when his mother asks him another question. You pretend not to notice, though; maybe he’s just trying to figure out if you’re someone he’ll get along with well.

You say thanks for your meal before trying a bit of each dish.

The rest of the hour goes by quickly without you realizing. There’s really something magical about Shimura-san’s cooking and Takashi’s assistance; you tell them so.

“Finally, someone who remembers!” Takashi comments, raising his hands in the air, while Shimura-san swats him playfully. “I think he has a favorite,” she comments. 

“By the way, we do have some extra desserts. They were gifts from my husband’s clients, but there’s still too much for us to finish. You can pick whatever you like and take them with you.”

“What? Are you sure?” Your eyes widen.

“Yes, very sure.” She stands to get them. “I’ll bring them over, just give me a moment to gather the new ones.”

As she leaves the dining area, her son suddenly turns to you. “Sorry if this is a really random question, but I just wanted to ask…” 

You tilt your head at him. “Um, sure.”

“Can you say this suuuper specific phrase for me?” 

“Super specific phrase.” You blink at the teen, trying to process his request. “Okay, um, what is it?”

Takashi grins at your agreement. “Say this.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “‘Can you shut the heck up, it’s two in the morning!’”

Hang on.

A silence fills the kitchen, but it’s broken by Shimura-san’s gasp. “Son?”

“Wait, okaasan! I swear she sounds like the girl in Kodzuken’s stream. There’s this video that went viral this week!”

Kodzuken’s stream?

Takashi pulls his phone out, seemingly forgetting about his request for you. 

“Hey! Go over there! Get the shields up so you can distract- agh, Tighnari!”

You stiffen at the familiar voice.

“Are you kidding me? Move! Then hit the- I need to aim!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

Whoever’s saying sorry doesn’t sound one bit apologetic.

“Dude, we are not defeating the boss like this! Come on!”

You sit there awkwardly as the mess of sounds from the game continues to play from Takashi’s phone speaker.

“This is stressing me out!” Kodzuken groans as his partner laughs. “Why did I agree to a co-op with you?!”

“Hey, shut the fuck up!” 

And…oh god. That is your voice. That’s how audible it was?

Kodzuken goes silent, and his co-op partner immediately starts laughing. “Wait? Who is that? Is that coming from you?”

“What the,” you hear a whisper as your anger-fueled tirade continues in the background. “Uh-”

“Yo! You have a woman at home?”

“No, I don’t.” Kodzuken hisses. You can hear the sounds of his game continuing, and by the sounds of the characters, they sound like they’re getting hit in succession.

Kodzuken’s partner continues giggling. “Did you piss someone off? Oh! Hey, where’d you go? Guys? Guys, Kodzuken just left the stream? What the hell? Who was that?” 

The video ends, and you want the ground to swallow you whole. Shimura-san looks back up at you with a shocked expression.

I’m not making a very good first impression here, am I?

“That’s…the kid that lives in 204. And that does sound like you…”

Takashi blinks. “Wait.”

“Uh, that’s…” You start, clearing your throat. There was literally no way you could lie to her about this. “It was a bad time. I’m not usually like that. Um-”

“Well, wow, I didn’t know you had that in you!” Shimura-san cuts you off, but she doesn’t seem extremely bothered. Maybe. You don’t know. “You did sound really mad though, when did this happen?”

“A few days ago,” you sigh nervously. “That was right after I was roped into overtime.”

“Oh, because of that officemate.” She grimaces, recalling your tale from earlier. “Yeah, my husband can get cranky when something like that happens. I get it.”

You sigh. “I cannot believe that got recorded. I really just thought he was calling his friends or something, not streaming to a public audience.”

“Huh, you’re not the only one that’s surprised.” She huffs. “Hard to think a kid like him did those kinds of video things. Maybe that’s why he’s so private.”

“That…would make sense.” You glance over at Takashi, who looks like he’s about to explode. “Hm. Maybe I should’ve been nicer about asking him to keep it down.”

Shimura-san pauses to think. “Well, it’s not too late to talk to him, if you want to sort things out. You had a point, after all. It would be good to set some rules since you’ll be neighbors for some time.”

You nod, considering her suggestion. “Yes. I think I’ll do that. Thank you, Shimura-san.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, to be young.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, don’t forget about picking out your desserts-” 

“Okaasan, you’re telling me the Kodzuken lives down the hall?!”

For the rest of the evening, you couldn’t stop overthinking the incident. What was meant to just be one moment between you and your neighbor has apparently been publicized to the entire world. 

Honestly, you’re just thankful Shimura-san didn’t seem to think of you any differently after that. She still sent you off with a few boxes of desserts and sweets, and an invitation to come over another time. 

You even found yourself apologizing to Takashi—you knew how teenagers could be with their favorite celebrities. Luckily, he just laughed it off, finding it cooler that you were able to personally “interact” with Kodzuken.

But, that had you wondering…you weren’t in the wrong for reprimanding him, right? No one should be disobeying the noise level rules in this apartment.

Still, your insides twist when you think about how you handled it. You never really liked the person you were when you were angry. Considering that you haven’t even met your neighbor face-to-face, you’ve probably soured things with him.

Oh god, what if he’s secretly plotting something to get back at me…

You sigh into your couch cushions, feeling a pit of regret forming in your stomach.

With nothing better to do, you check Kodzuken’s socials, curious if he’s said anything about the matter.

That was the only post he’s made since that day. You scroll a bit further, and all you see are some random thoughts he has shared and a bunch of announcements.

Sighing, you check the replies under his latest announcement. If that clip went viral, then other people definitely had something to say. 

Suddenly, you don’t know if checking was a good thing or not; now you feel restless.

Is he getting hate because of you? The handful of replies you checked were just a fraction of everything. Not to mention, all the opinions people shared about your actions—whether in favor or not—made your chest tighten.

They’re just strangers. They didn’t know the full context. It shouldn’t matter.

Yet, it bothers you. You throw your phone towards the opposite end of your couch and slump even further.

His name rings in your head—no, not his streamer name, but his real one. 

Kozume Kenma.

It’s an odd feeling, really. Shimura-san thinks of him as the shy boy from 204. Her son knows him as a streamer. To you, he’s your apartment neighbor.

What were you to him? The apartment neighbor who could potentially ruin his career?

“Nononono,” you groan, rubbing your hand over your face. 

He could bounce back, right? Would people forget? It’s not like he committed a crime…

Is he waiting until things blow over? What if he really got sick? And did he get sick from the stress? That I caused-

No. It’s not like I intended to…

Ugh!

The itch in your bones won’t go away. You need to fix this.

Retrieving your phone, you sigh in disbelief. How ironic that you feel like losing sleep over this silence. 

And so, you do the last thing you ever expected to do in your life.

Your Sunday is dedicated to running to the grocery store and hoping that you don’t burn your kitchen down. 

Yeah, you could’ve bought an apple pie to save you from the hassle, but there’s something about the sincerity in a homemade pastry that convinces you. (Shame on you if you didn’t learn a thing or two from the Shimuras yesterday.)

It takes you the entire afternoon and an emotional support call from a friend, but eventually, you make something that looks and tastes pretty delicious.

When evening arrives, you’ve placed half of the pie in a small container that your neighbor can keep. You set another half aside, a gift of gratitude for the Shimuras.

Psyching yourself up, you make your way to 204’s front door, cradling your peace offering to your chest. After maybe a few minutes of just standing there, you eventually gain the courage to knock.

It’s not long before the door opens, revealing the figure of someone who seems to be close to drowning in their hoodie and sweatpants. 

Kozume-san looks awful.

“Hello,” he says in a meek voice, as he rubs his eyes. When you look behind him, you notice the rest of his living space is dark, save for some colored lighting from an assortment of lamps. “Have we…met?”

Instantly, there’s a wary look in his eyes once he realizes that you’re a stranger. You immediately clarify your purpose of being here, not wanting him to think you’re some stalker fan that has finally figured out his address.

“Hey. I’m, uh…your neighbor from 203. Just moved in two weeks ago.” You also tell him your name, hoping that it could make you seem more trustworthy in the meantime.

Though you’re not surprised when his eyes widen—he almost looks like a startled cat. He hides behind his door a little more, prompting you to speak up. 

“I just wanted to apologize-”

“I’m sorry for disturbing you-”

The two of you freeze at your simultaneous apologies.

“Um, sorry, you first-”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt-”

And again, you both go silent. Thankfully, it breaks some of the tension in the air. 

“Wait, why are you apologizing to me?” He opens the door a bit more.

“Because I should’ve talked to you politely, instead of resorting to more aggressive measures. Sorry.” You scratch the back of your neck. “And, I didn’t know you were a streamer either. I didn’t realize that my yelling would end up making you go viral…for better or for worse.”

“It’s…” He starts, but he seems unsure of how to continue. “It’s okay. If I were you, I think I would have gotten angry too. I was just used to 203 being empty, so when I got really worked up, I didn’t realize you were…well, there.”

He shrugs, trying his best to make eye contact with you for a few seconds, before his eyes dart away. “I’m really sorry. I wasn’t trying to disturb you on purpose.”

With the way things are going, you’re honestly so glad that you made the decision to talk it over with him. 

“I understand now…so, you had no idea that I had moved in at all?”

“No, sorry. I don’t really stay updated with things around the apartment. Safety. And, well, people can be a lot…if you can believe it.”

You nod. “I can. It’s okay. As long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“It won’t.” He shakes his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Um, actually, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a preferred schedule for absolutely no noise? Besides late evening or early morning…”

“Oh, hmm.” You tap your chin, vaguely reminded of his last announcement on social media. To be honest, hearing his voice wasn’t all that bad.

“You know, when you’re not yelling at someone, you actually have a pretty nice voice.”

He blinks at you. “What?”

“There were a few times I could hear you talk through the wall at a bearable volume. It felt like listening to those podcasts or audiobooks, you know?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. So, I guess it depends on what you’ll be doing. If you do end up streaming at odd hours, all I ask is that it’s something calm. Anything crazy would be best in the afternoon or evening.”

“Are you…sure?” He tilts his head.

“I mean, the whole gaming and streaming thing is your source of income, right?” You shrug. “It seems unfair to just impose everything on you. We can compromise or find a win-win solution.”

The corners of his lips tug up a bit. “Thank you for understanding. Again, I am really sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it.” You wave a hand dismissively. “Anyway, I hope this isn’t weird, but it’s true that you like apple pie, right?”

“I…yes?” His eyebrows furrow a little. “Why?”

“Um, I baked some earlier as an apology.” You hand the small container out to him.

“You…what? You-” He sputters, hesitating to take the pie from your hands. “Really?”

“Yes. I had to look it up online, after finding out who you were and realizing what had happened. I didn’t mean to cause all this mess for you.”

He slowly takes the container, his fingers brushing against yours for a few seconds. “Oh, um…thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Kozume-san. I hope it’s to your liking.”

He peers inside the transparent container.

“I…” He presses his lips together. “You…”

“Me?”

“You can, um, call me Kenma.”

You gasp. “What? Just like that?”

“It’s always been weird when people call me by my surname.” He grimaces. “The other option is Kodzuken, but…”

“It feels more like your work persona?”

“I guess so.”

“Alright,” you exhale. “Kenma-san.”

“No honorifics, either.”

“Oh?” You laugh. “Okay. Okay. I got that. Kenma.”

His shoulders sag a little in relief. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Anytime.” You bow at him in preparation to leave. “By the way, if you’ve got any comments on that pie, let me know. I need to master the recipe.”

“Comments?”

“Yep. No one better than the pie lover to tell me what I can improve on.”

“Okay.” He hums. “Do you want me to…slip a note under your door?”

“You could yell through our wall.”

And for the first time, you hear Kenma laugh out loud.

You move to open your laptop, but your boyfriend interferes again, putting a hand on top of yours. 

“Ya, it’s late. There’s more time to do papers tomor- uh, no. Later, I mean.”

He’s right. To be honest, you’ve kind of been waiting for a reason to stop with this never-ending horde of paperwork. 

With the reconstruction of the Tachikawa base, lots of staff and officers had to be relocated. As the medical professional assigned to the division’s officers, you were in charge of sending endorsement notes and other reports to other division professionals, and providing updates about the new hires.

With a nod of your head, you close your laptop, letting his hand guide you. There’s now a softness to his smile.

“You’ve done enough work today.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, causing you to blush a little. 

Thank goodness the security camera system in the medical wing is still in need of repair.

“Hoshina,” you giggle and whisper. “Stop. You need to stop bribing me with kisses.”

“But they work, don’t they?”

You groan in response, but both of you know the truth. 

Hoshina, bless the man, finally rounds the corner of your desk so he can stand next to you. You turn your desk chair to face him, and with open arms, you let him crawl into your lap.

“You’re like a damn cat,” you snort, as you feel the weight of his body press into you.

“Meow.”

Instantly, the two of you snicker. He wraps his arms around you, laying his head on your shoulder.

“It’s fun practicing my stealth skills to get alone time with you,” he whispers in your ear. “But, I also want to show ya off.”

“I know. Me too. I wonder how the Director General did it.” You sigh. “The Shinomiyas were truly the power couple of the Defense Force.”

“We should be the next one.” Hoshina leaves a kiss on your cheek this time. “Soon.” 

“Soon,” you nod in agreement.

There weren’t any hard rules against having relationships with people within the Defense Force. However, you knew that relationships between superiors and subordinates were controversial. 

Even if the relationship was consensual, the imbalance in authority raised ethical concerns. At least there was the option for one to be reassigned or promoted, instead of forcing the relationship to dissolve right away.

With you and Hoshina, at least you had no issues regarding power dynamics. He was the vice-captain, and you were the head medical officer. You’re both on equal footing within the Third Division—you could give each other orders without question.

However, the concern about keeping things quiet was more about preserving your privacy. Word traveled around the division pretty quickly. Hoshina is also the kind of person who draws attention to himself, no matter where he goes. 

Ever since you decided to work here a few years ago, your co-workers had gossiped about him. The fact that he was voluntarily going to your office or laboratory during work hours had raised questions. 

“Why does he keep asking for you? He’s never had this many questions for the medical department.”

“What did you do? He seems so interested in you!”

And even though you didn’t have an answer to their questions, you were bad at hiding that you might have had a teeny tiny crush on the vice captain. Your coworkers’ teasing after they found out was relentless. They decided to play matchmaker, too.

Now, your coworkers were lovely people, and knew when to back down when needed. However, what you were afraid of were the other officers and staff in the division that you weren’t close to—people who didn’t know you well enough to prevent inaccurate assumptions or rumors.

If anything about your relationship got out, you were terrified of the gazes that would follow you everywhere you went. You didn’t want questions from people who did not need to know every detail. 

You and Hoshina have also reached the starting points of your personal dreams within the Defense Force. It was scary to think about the ways your reputation and credibility could be affected if more people started seeing you in a less professional light. Well, maybe that’s a stretch, but you didn’t want people considering your relationship a workplace distraction. 

(And, of course, a part of you hopes it won’t happen, but what if things don’t work out? You’ll be the talk of the town for who knows how long.)

“Hey.” Hoshina pokes your cheek, startling you out of your daze. “You zoned out.”

“Hmm? Yeah.”

You gaze at the way Hoshina’s face is pressed against your chest. In the time you’ve spent thinking, he has visibly relaxed and melted into you. It’s cute, really, how he can finally be like this around you, instead of being the one who always offers himself as the shoulder to lean on.

“You’re adorable,” you say without thinking.

“I know.” His fangs peek out a little with his cheeky grin. “That’s why you like me.”

You snort, kissing the top of his head. 

Suddenly, there’s a sharp knocking on your door. The two of you shoot up in alarm.

“Crap.”

You point to the bottom of your desk, which is thankfully covered all around. “Get in there,” you whisper-shout as he attempts to cram himself into the space.

“Come in!” you call out at the second round of knocking.

When the door opens, you see Okonogi…a rather sleep-deprived Okonogi, at that. You can only imagine the kinds of things she’s been handling at the operations division.

“Hi, Okonogi. What can I do for you?”

“I’m just taking a break,” she smiles at you. “Wanted to check in on you, fellow night owl.”

“Thanks. I actually might go and sleep after a few minutes. I can’t take any more of the endorsement notes. The medical abbreviations are no longer making sense to me.”  

She laughs lightly. “I can totally understand. I can’t even remember what the codes and abbreviations on my reports stand for either.”

“What a pain,” you comment, shaking your head.

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask you something personal, if that’s alright.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrows raise. “Shoot away.”

“Please be honest with me. Are you and Vice-Captain Hoshina together?”

Your eyes widen. Hoshina remains silent, but you can feel him squeeze your ankle a little.

“Me? And Ho- Vice-Captain Hoshina?”

“Sorry, I know it’s a surprising question. It’s just that two of you have been acting differently around each other lately.” Okonogi scratches the back of her neck. “I didn’t know if I was overthinking it or what, but you both couldn’t keep your eyes off of each other in the debriefing meeting today. And a couple of other meetings before that.”

“Oh. Um.”

“Actually, besides that…Vice-Captain Hoshina, you can come out from your hiding spot.”

“Wh- What are you talking about?”

“He’s under your desk, isn’t he?”

You can see him freeze in surprise.

“No? I don’t-”

“And if I go over and check myself?”

“What? No, you don’t- I mean…I-”

Okonogi takes a few steps forward, and you’re about to protest, but Hoshina crawls out and reveals himself.

“Yes. Okonogi. I’m here. Incredible. I expected nothing less from you.”

“Mhm.” She regards him with an unimpressed stare. “Okay. Listen, the cameras here have started working again. It’s a pretty good thing that I’m friends with the security officers during this shift.” 

“Oh.” A chill runs through your body.

“They gave me the update on the cameras, so I went over to check how the footage was. Then, the officer tells me that they saw Vice-Captain come here to your office, and they were wondering what reason he'd have to visit outside of regular office hours.”

“Well. I had…medical questions.” Hoshina tilts his head.

“Then why were you hiding under the desk?”

“I was…uh…”

“Okonogi?” You pipe up.

“Mm?”

“Would you be mad or anything if I said that we were in a relationship?”

Recognition flashes in her eyes. “No. I wouldn’t be. I was expecting it at some point, to be honest. The Vice-Captain’s also been talking about you a lot more often. I don’t even think he realized.”

You hear a small ‘oops’ coming from Hoshina.

“So, it’s true that you’re together?”

You and Hoshina look at each other. Okonogi is someone you both trust wholeheartedly, so the two of you nod.

“Okay.” A smile appears on her face. “That’s good. So, you’ve been trying to keep it a secret, I assume?”

“Yes,” Hoshina responds. “I didn’t want to bring untoward attention to them.”

“I felt the same way about him as well,” you add.

“Mm. I understand,” Okonogi hums. “That’s actually why I asked. The security officer seemed a little curious. Luckily, I made up an excuse about sending the vice-captain to the medical department earlier in the day.”

“That was a close one,” you sigh. “Thanks for covering, Okonogi.”

“Any time,” she waves a hand. “Anyway, considering what I’ve walked in on, I suppose the two of you are having trouble getting time alone without being suspicious.”

Hoshina laughs nervously. “Their co-workers have gotten rather curious about how often I visit. But their office or the library are our safest spots at the moment.”

Okonogi inhales deeply, pausing to think about something. “Okay. Well, do you guys remember that small storage room in my office?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Come to think of it, I’ve never been inside it,” Hoshina comments. “Well, I tried to check, but you shooed me away.”

“Hmph. You’re too nosy, Vice-Captain,” Okonogi rolls her eyes. “But I was thinking of letting you guys use that room whenever you’d like to see each other. Not too suspicious since it’s my office, and we have reasons to talk to each other often.”

“Wait. You’re seriously letting us…” You blink at her. “Are you sure? What about all the stuff inside?”

“I’ve started organizing things and clearing the room out, actually. The operations team has started digitizing more files too, so there’s no need to keep the older papers.” Okonogi waves her hands around as she explains. “I’ve also thought of donating my older collections of mystery novels and other books to the library. They’re just collecting dust in there…”

You and Hoshina glance at each other again, but this time, there’s no worry or fear on both of your faces.

“Okonogi? You are a godsend,” you immediately hug her, cutting her off in the middle of her ramble.

“Oh! Well, I wouldn’t say I’m a godsend, but you’re welcome,” she says, adjusting her glasses. “At the very least, the couch inside will actually be used for sitting, instead of holding up piles and boxes of stuff.”

“There’s a couch?!” Hoshina exclaims in disbelief.

“Yes. Please don’t do anything unacceptable on it,” she narrows her eyes.

“No! We’d never- Oh my gosh.” You hide your face in your hands. 

“Okonogi, why are you only looking at me?” Hoshina whines.

“You know very well.”

“I don’t.”

“Promise, Okonogi. Nothing out of the ordinary. It’s still your place after all. Thank you so much.” You bow to her in gratitude, and Hoshina does the same.

“You’re welcome.” She exhales, looking at her watch. “Well, I’m gonna get back to the last bit of my work. Wanna check out the spare room?”

“Sure. ‘Bout you, Hoshina?”

Your boyfriend agrees in response, patting your shoulder.

“Okay. Let me just shut my computer down.”

Hoshina takes care of the air conditioning unit and the lights, and the three of you leave your office.

By the time you all arrive at Okonogi’s spare room, she leaves the two of you to it. 

When you sit down on the couch that she talked about, the fact that it is now three in the morning suddenly hits.

“Man, I’m tired,” you yawn, sinking into the leather cushion. Hoshina plops down beside you, also seeming to realize his exhaustion.

“Something tells me we’ll end up sleeping here,” he mutters with a soft giggle, pulling you closer to him by the waist.

“Guess we’ll fall asleep in our work clothes again.” You rest your head on his shoulder. “Better set an alarm so we have time for a quick shower or change of uniform before clocking in tomorrow.”

You whip your phone out for a short moment, making sure you actually set an alarm, lest the two of you get in trouble for going missing tomorrow. Or…later, to be more accurate.

“Glad we can do this without having to worry much,” Hoshina whispers, giving you one last kiss on the lips.

You smile against his kiss, closing your eyes. “Me too. Also, I know I’m guilty, but please don’t stare at me too much during the next meeting. Your squinting still can’t hide it well.”

“Hush.”

He’s dealt with sarcasm, insults, and anger, but not…this. 

“I- Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”

You bury your face in your hands as you sob. Kaveh’s body runs cold, and he frantically scans your table for a tissue he could offer. 

“It’s perfect.”

In the middle of grabbing the tissue holder from the table next to yours, he freezes, wondering if he heard you correctly. 

“I- Wh- Perfect?” he echoes, breath rushing out of his chest.

“Yeah,” you say, wiping your eyes and sniffling. “Oh, thanks for the tissue.”

As you try to compose yourself, Kaveh sits there for a moment, trying to process whether he’s dreaming or not.

“I mean, it’s so beautiful, I…” Tears well in your eyes again when you glance at Mehrak’s projection. (Kaveh isn’t sure, but he thinks he sees longing in your expression.)

“You…you don’t want anything changed?” He asks, using a much gentler tone than he normally does. There must be a mistake.

You shake your head. “It’s my childhood dream come alive, Kaveh. This is everything I ever wanted. You really do have a talent for this.”

His mouth runs dry at your compliment. He isn’t used to immediate acceptance, body tensing as he braces himself for the possibility that you’re messing with him. He waits for pushback, no matter how minor.

“I’m so happy people like you exist.” 

Oh. 

Well, he isn’t used to that either.

“People like me?” Kaveh swirls the liquid around in his glass. 

“Artists,” you clarify. “You guys spend a long time honing your skills and talents to make things that are so uniquely, you. To people like me, it’s like witnessing magic happen.”

You point at your childhood drawing on the table, which had served as his reference. Kaveh had noticed your hesitance to part with the artwork when you first met, so he had taken extra care to ensure it was returned in the same condition.

“That’s the best I could do, and I’m just grateful you didn’t judge me for using a drawing I made when I was seven,” you laugh. “Other architects have asked me to try drawing something more refined—better proportions and cleaner lines. Still, I could never manage to recreate what I wanted. Every attempt missed the essence of the original thing.

“Still, I don’t know much about the whole, architectural process. It’s difficult to integrate the ideas, aesthetics, and practicality. So, of course, I’d rather have a professional do it. That’s why I tried really hard to find the architect who would understand. Someone who would take my vision into consideration while adding their special touch. The right balance.”

Now Kaveh wants to cry. He doesn’t think he’s ever had a client who truly understood what his job meant to him. (He tries to ignore the crushing feeling the realization brings him. What did he do for something like this to happen to him? He wonders if he deserves it-)

“You know, when I came here, I was kind of disheartened to hear about how undervalued the arts are,” you share, and Kaveh almost believes you’ve read his mind. “I was really lucky to run into someone who pointed me in your direction. I was close to accepting that I wouldn’t get what I was hoping for.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, to some people, it’s just a house.” You shrug. “I could ask someone to construct the bare minimum. Or, I could continue renting out a place to stay; it wouldn’t kill me. But,” you sigh, “moving to Sumeru alone is a big milestone for me. And since I plan to live here for the rest of my life, I want it to feel like- no, I want it to be my home.”

Kaveh’s early childhood drawings flash before his eyes. He recalls the time he asked his mother what kind of house she’d like to live in, eager to attempt sketching something that might satisfy her desires. 

Instead, he was pleasantly surprised by her answer: she had already created it. They lived in it. He listened to her explain every decision she made—the choice of materials, the room divisions, the general size, the motifs, the maximization of space, and a bunch of other things that went over his head, given his age. It was the satisfaction of seeing her vision come to life that made it feel like home.

That experience informed every question and choice he made moving forward. His desire to be an architect was no longer just about impressing people with his capabilities, but giving people a chance to turn their dreams into reality.

He watches as you giggle at Mehrak’s happy beeps, patting it gently. Something tugs at his heart, but he doesn’t know what it is. A part of him thinks that this might just be too good to be true. 

What if in two days, you change your mind and ask for a revision? You’ll get past your emotional reaction and start to see the flaws! It’s impossible. How could he have created your vision so easily on the first try?

Nonetheless, he tells himself that he’ll get it together, whatever it is you decide to do. He will do his utmost best to ensure your satisfaction.

Kaveh, blinking out of his trance, finally settles on a response: “Then, a home is what I hope to give you.”

(Little did he know what those words would mean in the future.)

“So, if you continue to overuse your voice, especially in this state, you can get nodules. Or, something worse that would require surgery. Think of a strain or a sprain, compared to a complete tear.”

The video ends, but a part of you still wants to show him more—just enough to keep him around a little longer. However, you still need to be mindful of your time, so you close the tablet and place it on your desk. “So, it-”

When you look at Iwaizumi again, he meets your gaze. Your face grows hot at his attention, and you can’t help but dart your eyes to the side.

“Uh, I meant to say that you should focus on resting your voice for the next week. And I mean full vocal rest. No whispering. You can write on a whiteboard, type, use text-to-speech, gestures, whatever you want.”

He gives you an eager thumbs-up. Cute.

“Okay,” you giggle. “That tells me you understand. I’ll give you a list of other exercises you can do to help with vocal strain. But for now, let’s focus on getting rid of the inflammation. Whenever you feel like your throat is tense or a little painful, you can massage it…”

You gesture at his Adam’s apple, but you happen to glance at it just as he swallows. 

“Uh.” You blank out for a moment, your hands freezing midair. 

Oh, man. Get a grip.

Snapping yourself out of it, you reach for your throat with your middle finger and thumb, demonstrating what you were talking about. “Just go in circular motions, up and down the neck. It’s up to you for how long.”

Suddenly, Iwaizumi raises his hand a little. He unlocks his phone, typing something on the notes app before showing it to you.

“Ah…” You hand his phone back to him. “That’s also up to you.”

“Oh. Me? Uh…” 

Does this mean I’ll have to touch him?

“Usually, I apply this much pressure…” Your fingers hesitantly hover near his throat. “Can I, uh-”

You don’t even complete your question before he consents with a nod. 

“Okay, um.” Your gloved fingers make contact with his skin, and you pray that he doesn’t feel your hand shaking.

Holding your breath, you press down. “This much, usually. Does it hurt?”

Iwaizumi shakes his head and gestures at you to continue.

“Okay, so you just keep doing this. How does-” You glance at his face, which no longer holds any tension. Relief floods over you at the immediate effect.

“How does it feel?”

You grin at the little smiley he leaves. “You’re welcome, Iwaizumi-san. Why don't you give it a try in the meantime?"

As Iwaizumi attempts to replicate what you’ve done, you grab a notepad from your desk, jotting down a few reminders.

“Anyway, I’ll send an evaluation report later for occupational or medical purposes. I know some insane bosses who seem hell-bent on making my clients’ lives harder. Hopefully that’s not the case for you?”

“Oh, goodness, poor you.” You can’t help but laugh as you imagine it. “Well, if you need someone to talk some sense into them, I’m here.”

A quick exhale leaves his mouth in amusement. You remind yourself to look up his team later.

“Okay, if you’re free next week, you can come back here so we can check on your progress. A call would be alright too, if that’s more convenient.”

Normally, you don’t even think twice when giving your clients your contact details; sometimes they keep in touch, sometimes they don't. But secretly, you hope Iwaizumi worms his way into your schedule.

“Anyway, sorry if most of this felt like a one-sided conversation. I hope I didn’t bore you too much or make it too technical-”

Iwaizumi shakes his head frantically, waving his hand. Then, he fumbles a little as he tries to enter his phone’s password.

Ah. He wants to say something?

“I…” You feel your heart swell at his sincerity. “Thanks, Iwaizumi-san. That means a lot.”

And for the first time in the last hour, you get a glimpse of the crow’s feet around his eyes as he grins.

Oh, dear.

Truthfully, you were a little nervous when he entered your office an hour ago. Nervous is an understatement—you were intimidated. He looked like he could just knock you out with a punch if you managed to upset him.

(Okay, he probably wouldn’t punch you, but you've had your fair share of dismissive, aggressive, and moody clients before.)

But now, Iwaizumi’s expression is washed over with a gentleness you didn’t think was possible with his sharp features.

You can’t find it in you to end the interaction, even though you have to.

As you muster the courage to finally send him off, he sighs and rakes a hand through his hair. He takes out his device again, typing something down. It takes a much longer time; he presses the backspace button repeatedly.

“Um, Iwaizumi-san, do you have a concern?” You fiddle with the hem of your scrub shirt. The silence was starting to have more weight to it.

He meets your eyes for a moment before he resumes writing his message.

What is it that has him hesitating so much?

When he shows you his phone screen, you almost gasp.

"Oh!" You don't need a mirror to tell that your face is flushed. "I- That means a lot. Thanks. Um..."

You scramble for a response as he prepares to type something again.

"But, uh, sure! Just let me know if there's something you want me to talk about. Hopefully, you don't get sick of my voice, Iwaizumi-san."

Then and there, you're pretty sure you short-circuit.

"Oh? No one's ever told me that before." You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. However, when you catch the earnest smile on his face, you feel your heart set alight.

"Anyway, thank you for giving me your time today, Iwaizumi-san."

A/N (or Iwaizumi's case history):

Hey, it's Stellar, your soon-to-be speech-language pathologist. I wanted to share my love for the profession through my fics, and decided to start with dear Iwa-chan.

To explain what's happening here, Iwa has a case of traumatic laryngitis, caused by vocal overuse and abuse (constantly screaming at the JNT to stop fooling around during training). Thus, his voice is very hoarse and breathy (sometimes, he can't even make a sound), and speaking hurts. Iwa would have tried remedies like throat sprays and hot tea, but they're not the key to recovery. Vocal rest is!

However, with how busy he is, he still needs to talk to multiple people and resorts to whispering. But, I must emphasize that whispering does NOT aid recovery, because you are still putting stress on the vocal folds.

In these cases, most people will wait for the problem to go away. If it's taking too long, they'll go to an ENT (ears, nose, and throat doctor; otorhinolaryngologist is the fancy word). Sometimes, it stops there, and patients are sent home; but in more severe cases, patients are referred to a speech-language pathologist (reader).

Anyway, since Iwa's case is caused by unhealthy vocal habits, it would help to have the voice specialist handle the case, especially during the recovery phase (dealing with any potential problems in pitch, loudness, and quality). This would increase the chances of a better prognosis/outcome! :)

The laryngeal massage that reader did on Iwa is recommended to most voice patients, especially if their vocal complaints are pain and tension. However, other things can be recommended to promote vocal relaxation, such as straw-blowing exercises (I'm not kidding! They're called semi-occluded vocal tract exercises). I just didn't talk about them in the scene because it felt like info overload, hahaha!

But Iwa's case is relatively mild (assuming he follows home instructions). There are other situations where vocal cords can be paralyzed, weakened, or spastic. Besides nodules, polyps and other growths can form and require surgical removal. Sometimes, one's voice may not be able to return to normal, so the focus of rehabilitation is to restore the most functional voice possible.

[Sidenote: Since this fic leans in a romantic direction, I should clarify that reader will follow professional ethics/rules. They both wait until Iwa is no longer a client at the reader's clinic/hospital before getting together.]

I hope you guys found the fic and A/N interesting in some way! :) Please take care of your voice; don't take it for granted! If you happen to have any questions about the voice, feel free to leave a reply, come to my inbox, or send a dm! <3

This video does a good job explaining AND showing stuff about vocal nodules (I like to think that this is what the reader shows Iwaizumi, hahaha). A fair bit of warning if you're sensitive to internal body imaging, but it's not that gross or graphic.

You felt a little sorry, honestly, considering how much faster you were making progress—you were already about to start your second bracelet.

When his next bead clatters to the table and rolls to your space, you catch it just in time (without letting go of your own string, thankfully). You look up at your table partner and reach your hand out to him, resulting in a perplexed expression on his face.

“Your bead,” you clarify with a small smile. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and dips his head to bow. “Thank you.”

“No worries,” you respond, blushing a little when his fingers brush your open palm. “Do you need any help?”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

“Alright. Just let me know if you have trouble with the closing knot.” You pick out your next bead as your partner hums and nods in response.

As you look through the remaining colors in your very organized bead container (a clear sign of investment in your hobby), something compels you to ask him a question, despite having spent the past time in silence.

“What’s your favorite color?”

He jolts, clearly not expecting a question. “M-Me?”

“Yeah. I have way too many to choose from.” You push your container closer to him. “Not sure which ones to use next. Does anything catch your eye?”

“Green. And white.” He points at the different shades.

“Gotcha. Thank you!” You give him a small thumbs up before mentally mapping out a possible bracelet pattern.

“You’re welcome,” he responds softly, before returning to his bracelet.

As you lay out your beads to test combinations, you find yourself unable to fight against the permanent grin on your face. His polite and soft-spoken nature has charmed you, it seems.

Before the workshop had formally started, you had noticed him standing outside the café, looking through the windows for quite some time. At first, you thought he was waiting for someone, until you realized he was staring at the poster and the reserved tables.

(Had you not approached him personally and asked if he was interested, you wonder if he would have gathered the courage to come in at all.)

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them, “was there a reason you wanted to join this workshop?”

He pauses for a moment, surprised at your follow-up.

“Um, if it’s personal or whatever, you don’t need to answer.” You add hastily. “And, it’s okay to tell me if talking distracts or overwhelms you.”

At that, he shakes his head. “No. It is fine. You’re nice.”

Your face heats up. “Thank you.”

“I wanted to learn to be more gentle with my hands.”

Instinctively, you gaze at them. Something about it makes you feel fuzzy inside. What the hell.

“Oh, I see!” You nod enthusiastically. “Yeah, bracelet-making and bead crafts can do that.”

“I…I am a construction worker. And a volleyball player too.” He continues, surprising you a little. “I’m not used to being gentle.”

His comment nearly makes you chuckle—he’s a living, breathing, gentle giant.

“Well, it takes practice,” you comment. “Any reason you’re trying to get those gentle hands?”

He looks away for a moment, sighing.

“Oh, if it’s a private-”

“I have a pet turtle.”

Silence follows as you process what he just said. Instantly, you feel your heart threatening to leap out of your chest.

“A- A pet turtle?!”

You’re aware that your voice has risen a little—in your excitement, you’re just glad you didn’t outright squeal.

“Yes.” Aone’s eyes are wide at your reaction. “She is very small.”

He gently puts down the bracelet he was making to give you a visual estimate of how tiny his turtle was.

“That’s…that’s adorable. Oh my gosh.” Your voice shakes, unable to contain your giddiness. “No wonder!”

“I don’t want to hurt her…” He explains. “So, my friend told me to try some activities to practice.”

“So, that led you here?”

He nods.

“That’s sweet. I’m glad you got here, then. Your bracelet’s coming along nicely!”

“Thank you,” he says. You’re not sure if you imagine it, but the corners of his mouth rise a little.

“You’re welcome.”

For the rest of the time, the two of you talk a bit more. You tell him about your interest in beaded bracelets, showing him how you could make more complex shapes and patterns. You share silly anecdotes from your job and how it could sometimes drive you crazy, but remain lovable all the same.

Throughout it all, he listens and responds. He may not say that much, but you can tell he cares about what you have to share.

You finish your second bracelet in the time it takes him to finish his. He still fumbled with some of the smaller beads, but he didn’t seem to struggle as much.

“I’m done,” he announces to you. “How do you tie the closing knot?”

“Ah! Okay, so watch what I do…”

You demonstrate the specific knot, and he leans forward to view it better. The proximity momentarily makes you short-circuit, but you manage. He stares for a few seconds, then hums in a mix of confusion and understanding.

Thus, you carefully watch and guide his attempt at the closing knot, forcing yourself to stop thinking about his hands. It’s not long before he succeeds, and you cheer. 

“There we go! That’s a very pretty bracelet, you know?”

“I…Thank you.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s…um.”

“I mean it!” You encourage him. “It doesn’t matter if you’re artistic or not! It still came out nice, especially for your first time-”

“I made it for you.”

The words die in your throat.

“Me? Wh- Really?”

He nods. “Because…you helped me.”

“I. I have no words.” Literally. “That’s really sweet of you. But, are you sure you don’t want to keep your first creation?”

“It’s okay,” he says.

“Are you sure?” You raise your eyebrows. “Actually, you know what? Have the second one I made. Let’s trade! I can’t have you leaving this workshop empty-handed.”

You hand the bracelet with green and white beads to him. “Go on, try it!”

The two of you exchange bracelets, and to your satisfaction, they fit just right. (Well, he didn’t have to know that you were already trying to estimate his wrist size while making it.)

“Would you consider these friendship bracelets?” You ask him.

“Friendship bracelets?” He repeats, glancing at both your creations. “Hmm…yes.”

“Yay!” You raise your hands in the air. “Will you come again next week?”

His eyes widen at your question.

“No pressure, of course!” You wave a hand. “But, you’re always welcome to join us! I’m usually here anyway, if having a familiar face helps.”

He nods, a small smile on his lips. “I will come back next week.”

A small smile?

“Alright!” You grin. “By the way, with all the talking we did, I never got your name. I can’t exactly go around calling you gentle hands, can I?”

He blinks at you for a few seconds, turning redder by the second. Did I break him?

“I-It’s Aone. Aone Takanobu.”

“Aone.” You tell him your name, too. “Well then, I’ll see you around!”

“See you around.” He gives you a small wave.

“Ah! And tell your turtle I said hello!”