୨ৎannita

you stood behind the glass, dressed in an oversized blue jersey that had his team's name and acted as a dress. you were wearing black tights underneath it, knee high leather boots rising up your legs that formed vile thoughts in his head. you were watching with excitement and hearts in your eyes. hands clapping as your friend whispered something in your ear. you weren't paying attention though, eyes locked on the man that skated his way off the ice and toward you.

fucking toji fushiguro.

satoru had been friends with him in high school but they grew apart when toji joined a frat in university. he was too busy with hockey to fuck around and the friendship slowly fizzled out before he graduated ahead of his class. then a year later toji graduated and got drafted onto the same team as satoru. the friendship was never what it was before, the men only seeing each other as teammates and nothing more.

satoru had never thought of himself as a jealous person. from elementary to college he had always been considered a "popular" guy, able to get any girl he wanted without putting in much effort and most men wanted to be him.

even now. he was a goddamn superstar, stupid fucking rich and living out his childhood dreams. he wanted for nothing except for the one thing he couldn't have: you.

it was a brutal reminder that you were someone else's when fushiguro picked you up and spun you around, lips locked against yours. the number 12 plastered in a big white font on the back of your jersey. toji's number.

satoru was annoyed but eventually found the strength to tear his eyes away from you, stomach twisted in knots at the fact that you weren't wearing his number. he allowed a smile to stretch across his face as his team huddled around him, his ego reminding him that he was satoru fucking gojo.

even though his heart screamed at him that it didn't matter if he couldn't have you.

later that night he was five shots deep in some shitty liquor, pretending to enjoy himself at some equally shitty party that was meant to celebrate the team qualifying for the playoffs.

he had a beautiful woman sitting next to him, her leg thrown over his lap as she kissed on his neck and whispered vulgar things in his ear, breath reeking of alcohol and mint gum. she had no shame that a few of his teammates sat at the same booth, deep in conversation about the days game and some other bullshit he didn't care about.

he was too busy trying to the hide the glare that was forming on his face, because sitting right across from him was you.. and toji. and you had the nerve to be dressed like that, tempting his restraint. questioning his morals.

toji's arm was thrown around your shoulder, your body slightly turned toward him. it gave satoru the perfect view of the dip in your waist as he tossed back his sixth shot, the bodysuit you wore doing nothing to hide the hips he often dreamed of digging his hands into.

what the fuck was his problem? he had a girl practically eating his face right now and all he could do was eye you like some virgin loser.

he moved to take another shot when you laughed at something toji said. your nose crinkled as you tried to control your laughter, hair falling into your face as you titled your head down. finding some joke toji said funnier than it probably was. his heart thumped loudly at the sound, the music bumping in the club drowning out over the noise of blood rushing in his ears.

he was convinced you were an angel and it only confused him even more that you were with someone like toji. sure, he's only known you for the five months you'd been dating his teammate and not on a personal level but he knew his former friend since they were teens and he had always been a jerk that toyed with girls like it was his favorite pastime.

not that he hadn't had his fair share of one night stands, but he wouldn't do that to you. never you.

what could you possibly find so interesting about him that you hardly looked at satoru when in the same vicinity as him? it frustrated him to no end. he knew that he could treat you better than toji could if only you would acknowledge him.

"want to get out of here?" the woman whispered in his ear. he didn't even remember her name and it annoyed him that it wasn't you asking him that question.

satoru checked himself when he found his hand moving to push her off of him. it wasn't her fault that she wasn't you, and he was in need of releasing some tension. especially when you showed up dressed like the goddess of seduction herself, making his dick rock hard and throbbing with lust the moment he laid eyes on you.

he was pathetic, really. you were toji's girlfriend.

he waited a few more minutes to see if you would look at him just once tonight. even a small glance would satisfy satoru at this point, but you didn't. you talked to everyone but him, flashing those glossy eyes at toji like he painted the fucking sky.

only when he stood, girl latched tight to his arm as if she were afraid he'd slip away, did you finally look at him. satoru almost dropped to his knees right there, head at your feet while he offered the world to you. thankfully his dignity was still intact and he didn't make a fool of himself, or his date that was begging to be fucked.

"hey! i didn't get the chance to tell you earlier but you did great out there today." you smiled at him, completely oblivious to the way your innocent words tugged at his heart.

satoru let his smirk cover up how fucking whipped you had him. how ready he was to say fuck it and pull you into his arms right in front of toji, daring his teammate to do something about it.

"yeah? 'preciate it beautiful." and the way your eyes widened at the pet name he decided at this very moment he would call you from now on, had him biting back a chuckle. you were so fucking cute, teasing him with your mere presence like he didn't know how to bite back.

clearly the name was far less amusing to toji, who shot him a glare and not so subtly pulled you closer to him. satoru fought the urge to roll his eyes, though he was satisfied he got under his skin. it filled his big head with the idea that toji's insecurity meant you would possibly give him a chance.

why else would the dark haired meathead act like satoru threatened his relationship with a nickname as simple as beautiful?

"fuck off, gojo." toji huffed, face scrunched in annoyance while satoru was cool as a cucumber, smirk widening as placed his hands in his pockets. he was beyond amused at toji's frazzled state. what an insecure dud.

"what? can't recognize a beautiful woman when i see one?" he continued with his taunting, his plan officially set in motion. satoru would just have to woo you until you realized toji was a brain-dead loser and he was much better for you.

didn't you know how good you two would look together? how good he could be to you?

"eat a dick, dude."

satoru only laughed and shot you a wink, savoring the way your eyes widened even further before he turned and pulled the woman out of the club.

while he was balls deep in his date that night, pounding his irritation away, he thought of you. how much tighter you likely were. how you were probably a huge freak underneath that shy act you put on in public. and when he finally pulled out, ripping the condom off his swollen cock as he stroked his load onto the stomach below him, he imagined he was still buried deep inside you. condom nonexistent as he filled you to the brim with his hot cum.

ㅤ

you were exhausted after your night out with toji, celebrating his teams recent big win until three in the morning. a choice you immediately regretted as you woke up in the same outfit you wore last night, one you had hoped would get your boyfriend's attention.

you made sure not to drink that night, desperately needing to get laid and not wanting toji to turn you away because you were too drunk. he had been stressed lately, with it being the middle of hockey season and all, and he hadn't fucked you in some weeks now. so to say you were disappointed when he only kissed you and wished you good luck on your finals tomorrow, would be severely understating it.

part of you wondered if he was seeing someone else. you'd only been dating five months now, so when he started dodging every hint you threw his way that you were in need of physical affection, red flags started flying.

you could understand and appreciate how busy he was. you were on your last year of law school, studying for the bar exam and getting ready for an internship at one of the most powerful firms in the country. you were busy yourself but you still found time for him, even if it would screw you over in the end.

you really shouldn't have gone out with toji last night, but he had begged and pleaded with you until you had no choice but to say yes so he could stop whimpering like a dog. you threw on your sexiest outfit, doused yourself in his favorite perfume and wore your new victoria's secret lingerie.

he had eyed you like you were candy, giving you a sloppy kiss and a smack on the ass before walking you to his car. you had been even more hopeful when toji became oddly possessive after gojo called you beautiful. the comment had left you flustered, cheeks burning from the sudden attention that you didn't know how to respond to.

gojo had stared at you like you were the only woman in the room and it had you dumbstruck. toji had never looked at you that intensely and it left you feeling shy and exposed. so when he finally pulled you closer, it gave you the false idea that your outfit would be ripped off you the second he took you back to his place.

only toji hadn't done either of those things. he had dropped you back at your apartment, kissed you goodnight after a silent car ride and pulled off before you could even close the door.

now you lay in bed still horny, head pounding from a lack of sleep and if the clock on your nightstand was correct, an hour away from one of the most important exams of your life. you sighed, pulling your phone off the charger as you checked your messages.

shoko (8:30am): hey babes, you up? wanna grab coffee before our exams?

shoko (8:50am): hellooo?

shoko (9:00am): boo, you whore. i just seen a pap picture of you with toji last night so you're either out cold rn after a long night of fucking or you're still getting your back blown out. 🤣

shoko (9:05am): i gtg, professor won't let me retake if i miss this test. love you, don't make choices i wouldn't!

dad (9:06am): hi honey. how's law school treating you? call your old man when you get the chance.

instagram 99+ new notifications

you wondered what shoko would think if you told her you did in fact not get your back blown out. instead you went to bed alone, doubting your relationship more than you already did. that the satoru gojo showed more interest in you than your own boyfriend did.

your stomach still tickled at the way he called you beautiful. such a simple name that left you feeling like a cat in heat. not that you'd ever admit that to anyone outside of yourself.

you were still unsure of how to feel about his nickname. on one hand you were in a relationship with his teammate and shouldn't entertain comments from other men. on the other, the crush you had on the hockey superstar still lingered somewhere deep in you.

when you first started dating your boyfriend, it had been with the intention of getting a little closer to the man with sharp blue eyes and white hair, that had been at the center of your dreams every fucking night. toji was hot but he wasn't really your type, so you were surprised when you found yourself actually falling for him two months into the relationship.

you met him at some party shoko dragged you to back in september, right before hockey season started. you hadn't really been checking for him, searching the room for gojo but he hadn't been there. so you cracked and gave him a chance after he kept "accidentally" bumping into you.

he made you feel like you were the hottest girl in the room that night, his hand on your lower back all night, whispering the crudest of comments in your ear until he took you back to his condo and fucked you into the mattress.

you hadn't been expecting him to ask you for your number before he dropped you back home, assuming this was a one night stand and nothing more. you weren't stupid. you knew the reputation most athletes had, especially toji fushiguro. but he clearly had an interest in you as he started texting you almost daily for hookups until two weeks later when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend right before his first game of the season.

now here you were, feeling more neglected than ever and you'd only been dating the man five months. this is why you'd been single for more than four years before meeting toji. men were complicated and more often than not, a waste of time. in the end it would always be you and your rose toy.

you opened up instagram next, scrolling through your friends stories before you stopped on gojo's which had a green circle around his icon. close friends? you quickly went to your notifications tab, hands shaking as your heart thumped. thumped. thumped! eyes bulging when you saw:

satorugojo followed you back (3 hrs ago). plus some of his 3.5 million followers that had followed you in response.

oh! you swallowed hard, clicking on his story and seeing he posted a picture of himself at the gym. athletic shorts riding low on his hips. grey boxers showing. white happy trail peeking from his black shirt that rose as he lifted one arm, showing off his ridiculous muscles. blue airpod max's snug on his head of wild white hair.

no days off 💪🏻 he captioned it. posted at 6:30am.

out of pure instinct you went to screenshot it before stopping yourself. this is your boyfriends teammate, what the fuck were you doing? you weren't some weird fan anymore, you were toji's girlfriend. snap out of it!

you forced yourself to close the app, texted your father that you would call him after your exam and quickly stripped and hopped in the shower. you spent twenty minutes reciting your mental notes on criminal law, civil law, etc.. you really shouldnt have went out last night.

after brushing your teeth and fixing your hair, you were out the door and thanking god that you lived close to campus or else you would have missed your exam. all because you were drooling over the fact that another man followed you on social media. get real!

you were grateful that shoko had been waiting for you the moment you stepped out of that too stuffy lecture room three hours later. the exam itself went fine. though you'd occasionally hear gojo's voice calling you beautiful, you had locked in and been the first one finished.

you were beyond drained and immediately dropped your head on her shoulder, mumbling about how you couldn't wait to graduate and you were never going to a party again. and something about fuck men.

"uh huh, it must suck getting fucked all night and almost missing your exams. poor (name)." she jokingly patted your back until you lifted your head to glare at her.

"i would find that funny if i'd actually gotten any."

"again?!"

twenty minutes later you sat in front of your best friend at a local cafe, wearing your heart on your sleeve as you ranted to her about your relationship issues.

"i just don't understand him, sho. i go out of my way to dress how i know he likes, wear perfumes that he says are his favorite and all i get is a smack on the ass. almost like i'm his dog begging for praise and he's patting my head and calling me a good girl."

shoko was empathic but had a look that said she didn't really know what to say. it was usually her in your position, while you never really had the patience for a relationship. it was the occasional one night stand for you, preferring to fixate on fictional men who would never disappoint you as real men often did.

toji was the perfect example of that. he'd been so hot and cold lately. kissing you at his games and acting like a loving boyfriend, to barely acknowledging you and leaving you aching for more.

"fuck one of his teammates."

you choked on your latte, looking around to make sure no one heard what she said as you attempted to regain your composure. when you finally calmed down enough you shot her a scowl, embarrassed at your little episode that had a few people staring like you'd pissed in their coffee.

"what? honestly i don't know why you went for him when suguru geto was right there but i'll try not to judge you too much." she had a shit eating grin on her face which only made you want to sink into the ground even more.

you had no plans to cheat on toji when you didn't even have proof that he was doing the same to you. but your mind still drifted to gojo. if you were going to sleep with any of them, it would be him for sure. or maybe you'd switch teams and go for that hot soccer player ryomen sukuna. but you weren't a cheater so you didn't allow that thought to simmer in your head.

though you were curious as to why he followed you, especially after he'd called you beautiful last night. why were you still stuck on that anyway? it was just a name he probably called twenty different women as everyone knew satoru gojo was a major flirt. but it was the first time he called you that.

"enough about me." you attempted to regain some control over the conversation. "how'd your exam go? you're almost done with med school! are you gonna stay in the city?"

"don't know." she shrugged, taking a sip of her tea. "thinking of working in a high school. if not, maybe moving a few cities over. enjoy some new scenery y'know?"

of course you did. you sometimes found yourself dreaming of starting somewhere fresh that wasn't your hometown but something had always kept you tethered here. maybe it was your irrational fear of change, or the stability you had here. family, friends, career. there hadn't really been a reason for you to leave.

just then your phone buzzed.

toji 💘: think you could stop by the rink? finishing up practice in 30 and wanted to see your pretty face.

✮

"why are you just standing there? move your feet!" satoru yelled at his team, tired from the early start to his day when he'd only gotten about four hours of actual rest. he wasn't usually this cranky, typically cracking jokes with the boys or giving them words of encouragement but he was still on edge from the fact that you'd actually spoken to him last night.

satoru didn't know what it was about you that left him so dizzy with obsession, when he'd never acted this way over a woman before. he had girlfriends sure, some he cared about but never anything too serious or long-term, preferring to focus on his future in the leagues and not wanting anything to distract him from that.

until you walked in the room. you'd been there to watch toji practice, dressed in low rise jeans that showed off your waist jewelry and straps to your pink lingerie. a matching long sleeve crop top and cardigan to protect your arms from the chill of the facility.

he thought he might propose to you right then and there. call it love at first sight. you were insanely hot and walked with a confidence that made every man and woman stop and stare at you. even coach stole a glance when he thought no one was looking.

he was hooked from that day forward. never missing a day of practice just in case you might show up, even if it bothered him that you were there to see toji and not him. he looked forward to seeing what outfit you'd wear or how you'd style your hair. he even noticed little things, like if you were in a good mood you'd be straight faced but if you were annoyed, you'd have a forced smile on your lips to keep up appearances.

on those days he wanted to yell at toji for not keeping you happy enough, though he knew that was unfair. plus you weren't his to worry about, even if he desperately wanted you to be. but for now he would settle for breathing the same air as you if that was all he could get.

"who the fuck are you talking to huh?! i dare you to say that shit again!" a yell broke through his thoughts. when he looked to the ice, toji was pushing suguru back with a mean shove. almost knocking satoru's friend on his ass and making him drop his stick.

"what, you gonna hit me fushiguro? i'm not one of the newbies, you don't scare me." suguru was calm as ever, amusement dancing in his eyes as he straightened himself. satoru was tempted to stand back and watch, getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of watching whatever suguru said make toji turn red with anger.

"actually, I think the next time i say it out loud it'll be to your pretty little girlfriend. oh there she is! what do you think fushiguro? she might want to know-" before suguru could finish, toji landed a punch right to the man's nose that sent him flying to the ground.

"are you two idiots done?" satoru yelled onto the rink, standing where coach usually does as he was filling in for him today. "fushiguro, you're out for the day. go home and blow off some steam. don't come back tomorrow if you still feel you need to attack your own teammate."

toji wasn't hearing it as he skated aggressively off the rink until he was behind the board and glaring at satoru as his cheeks flared red. "fuck you, you're not coach."

satoru lifted a brow, fighting the urge to give the man the same treatment he just gave suguru. "nah, but i am your captain and i said to fucking go home. or does the c on my jersey mean nothing anymore?"

if it were possible, you'd be able to see the steam shooting from toji's ears as he thought about what to say next before huffing and moving to sit on the bench, taking his skates off and pushing past satoru, storming to the locker room. satoru wondered what suguru had said to make the man so upset, watching as the doors that led to the backrooms closed behind him with a loud bang!

he didn't have much time to ponder on it before he noticed you standing at the entrance door, eyes wide as you watched the commotion. he wondered how much you saw, but really he was concerned with how much time he'd have to talk to you before toji came back and dragged you away.

he hadn't expected to see you again so soon but the surprise was more than welcomed.

he watched, eyes cloudy with desire as you walked further into the facility. hands holding a takeout bag, face set in confusion as you looked around, unsure of what to do after walking in on your boyfriend behaving like a psychopath.

satoru would never embarrass you like that.

when your eyes met his he raised his hand to wave you over, fighting back a smile as he watched you ponder over if it was a good idea or not after you'd just watched your boyfriend curse him out.

he finally felt like he could breathe again when you started walking toward him, dressed in a grey sweatsuit, faux fur jacket and a fitted cap. you were stunning and satoru almost choked on the drool that was forming at the sight of you.

when he turned to make sure geto was alright, he saw the man was already back up and finishing his drills with the others. satoru made a mental note to ask him what his mess with fushiguro had been about and why he mentioned you. for now, you would have his undivided attention.

"hi beautiful." his voice was raspy from yelling at the team for the past two hours, but he was satisfied to see the unintended effect it had on you. the slight widening of your eyes, pretty lips covered in gloss parting in surprise, the way you tightened your grip on the takeout bag.

"oh, i-" you bite your lip before relaxing your shoulders, releasing a breath and giving him a small smile that he knew he would be thinking about for the rest of the day. "hi."

satoru tried his best not to grin but you made it so hard. look at how cute you were, stuttering over being called beautiful when you were so much more than that. he would make sure he reminded of you that everyday when you were his, since toji was a clearly failing as a boyfriend.

"brought me lunch? how sweet. you didn't have to do that, princess."

princess? satoru had no idea where that one came from, he'd never called a woman that before but he could tell you liked it by the way your smile widened and your eyes softened. he would stick with that one then.

he felt like he was gonna melt with the way you had his body burning with a deep, scorching need that pulled in his stomach. a need that had him wondering how soft your lips were, what the gloss you wore tasted like, and what your skin felt like under his hands.

"i actually.. uhm- it's for toji. what happened with him and geto?"

satoru's mouth soured at the sound of his name taking up room in your conversation. he wanted to learn a little more about you before the beast came back and whisked you away.

but this was a good opportunity for him to get your number. yeah, he could work with this.

"not sure yet, princess. but if you want i can text ya after i talk with suguru, that way you get both sides of the story and not just whatever fushiguro tells you."

he watched as you swallowed, eyes tracing the movement of your lips and letting them fall to your exposed neck and the way your gold jewelry sat so perfectly across your skin. the captain of the number one hockey team in the world right now, was totally checking out his teammate's girlfriend and felt not even an ounce of shame about it.

embarrassment was never really satoru gojo's style. if he was one thing, it was confident. plus what was wrong with him letting you know he found you attractive? if your relationship with fuhsiguro was strong, then the man had nothing to worry about.

"you want my number? i don't know.. wouldn't that be inappropriate since-" you stop and lick your lips and satoru thinks he died and came back to life. "i'm dating your friend?"

mood fucking ruined.

"fushiguro isn't my friend. strictly teammates." the words came out harsher than he meant it and his heart sank at the way you shrunk back, the tension from earlier returning.

"i'm sorry, i didn't mean-"

"(name), what the fuck are you doing? we're leaving now!" toji's voice interrupted as soon as satoru reached out to touch your arm and you were gone in blink, spitting out a "s-sorry, sorry!" while chasing after your boyfriend who lacked the decency to even wait for you.

rage boiled inside of satoru, his fists clenched at his side, watching as you stopped the door front hitting you before disappearing behind it. toji was a fucking monster and you deserved better than him.

he had a new goal now. he would get you away from his teammate and then he would make you his. that started with finding out what suguru had against fushiguro that set him off and-

fuck! he didn't get your number.

✮

the car ride was awkward as fuck to say the least. toji was beyond pissed, one hand gripping the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles turned white, the other placed on your thigh squeezing considerably softer, grip still possessive as he swerved through traffic.

you wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he had ignored you when you asked the first time, as you followed him out of the training facility. you took that as a sign that he didn't want to talk about it and stayed quiet. opting to scroll through your phone instead, not a clue in the world where he was taking you.

dad (1:03pm): how did the exam go? i just talked to nishimura and he says you're all good to start your internship after your grades are released. don't forget to call! love you honey.

you (1:30pm): it went great! thanks for getting me the internship dad, I really appreciate it. can I call in 20?

dad (1:30pm): 👍

just as you were going to put your phone away, an instagram notification came through that had your cheeks heating instantly.

satorugojo (just now): number, princess? forgot to get it before the big bad wolf stole you away.

oh my god! you had no idea what he was doing or why he was suddenly so interested in you but it put you on guard. the crush you harbored still lingering somewhere inside you. locked away out of respect for toji. and it would stay there. you had no plans to disrespect your relationship unless toji did first.

so you ignored the message and locked your phone with painstaking difficulty, giving the man next to you your attention. face still heated from gojo's message. the fangirl in you screaming at the fact that li ole' you managed to get the satoru gojo's attention.

"where are we going?" you asked your boyfriend, hoping he didn't notice your reaction to gojo's dm. you needed to get real. he was probably giving ten other women the same attention that he gave you. he was satoru gojo after all. number one hockey player on the rink, world's biggest flirt off the rink.

"taking ya home. i have some business i need to take care of." he kept his eyes on the road, jaw still tight with annoyance from his earlier interaction with geto and gojo.

you frowned, fingers tightening around the lunch you'd bought for toji. if you weren't annoyed before, you definitely were now. he's the one that asked to see you and now he was ditching you. again.

"what business?" your voice was low as you attempted to stop yourself from cursing him out. you didn't do relationships often but when you gave a man the time of the day, you never allowed them to treat you like this. toji fushiguro wasn't the exception.

his grip tightened around the steering wheel and you thought he might rip it off with the way the skin under his fingernails turned red.

"nothing you need to know." he removed his hand from your thigh, moving it to hold onto the gearshift.

how fucking dare he? "hey asshole, you asked to see me! i deserve to know why you're wasting my time and ditching me without even properly saying hello."

"are you deaf, woman? i just told you to drop it!" woman? you were seeing red.

"fine! maybe i'll ask geto what had you angry enough to punch him, since we're keeping secrets now."

toji slammed on the breaks at a red light, sending your body forward before your back hit the seat again. you dropped the food on the floor, whipping your head to stare at the man beside you who had clearly lost his mind.

"are you crazy?!"

toji was already staring at you, a death glare painting his face, veins protruding in his forehead, his hair half covering his eyes. he looked murderous but you weren't going to back down.

"i'll only tell you this once: stay the fuck away from him and gojo, (name). ya hear me?"

you rolled your eyes and crossed your arms as toji turned and started driving again, flipping off the person that honked for him to go. you didn't take your attention from him though.

"or what? i wouldn't have to go to other men to find out what's going on with my own boyfriend if you'd actually talk to me! for crying out loud, you punched your teammate then act like i'm in the wrong for wanting to know why."

you couldn't believe this is what your first argument with toji was about. not him neglecting your needs five months into your relationship, but him hitting someone and refusing to talk to you about it. it was pathetic really. even more so that you kept giving him the time of the day. his behavior was off and did nothing to help the growing suspicion that he was cheating on you or hiding something worse.

toji ran his free hand down his face but stayed silent, keeping his eyes locked on the road as if he suddenly cared about driving safe when he just slammed on the breaks, nearly giving you whiplash.

"let me out." you sighed. he was close enough to your apartment anyways and you'd rather walk then deal with his bullshit for another minute.

it shouldn't have surprised you when he only mumbled "fine" and pulled into a gas station. speeding off after you slammed the door shut. you were so fucking mad that your brain short circuited and before you could even process what you were doing, you opened instagram and went to the dm you got a few minutes ago, typed in your number and hit the send button.

when you made it back to your place, you sat at the desk in your living room and opened your laptop. that's where you sat for the next four hours, phone turned off, studying for the bar exam. not letting a man distract you from what was actually important.

not until the clock read 5:55pm and you were stretching your sore back as you made your way to the kitchen to get some food, turning your phone on to finally call your dad who answered on the first ring. your face frowned when you were bombarded with notifications but you ignored them for now.

"(name), thank god! are you alright, do you need me to come down there? i'll kill him if he hurt you-" your father rambled, a calm fury lacing his voice that he typically reserved for his opponents in the courtroom.

"i'm fine dad!" you cut him off, anxiety crawling up your spine as you neglected the meal you were going to make, putting him on speaker as you started going through your missed notifications. "i was only studying, i'm sorry it took me so long to call. what's going on?"

"i got a call from a friend who said he saw you a video of you on tmz arguing with that man i told you was no good for you! he could have hurt you driving like that, and then to leave you at a gas station in the middle of winter? i-"

you zoned out as you read all the notifications you missed, clicking on the first one from apple news titled " trouble in paradise already? hockey player toji fushiguro caught in a screaming match with girlfriend (full name)."

you felt like throwing up as you read the article, clicking on the video that was attached and credited to tmz. someone had captured almost the entire thing. from the moment toji stormed from the facility, you chasing shyly behind him, to him speeding off and the person in the car following. the video cuts to him recklessly swerving into the gas station, you slamming the door and him zooming off.

you wanted to shrivel up and die out of pure embarrassment. you had been too angry to think about the fact that your boyfriend is in fact, a well known hockey star and would more than likely be followed by paparazzi or fans. this wouldn't be toji's first time dealing with a scandal but you were far from famous and hated drawing negative attention to yourself.

you swiped down when your phone buzzed again with another notification from instagram. you ignored it and went to the nearly one hundred messages you missed.

shoko (4:00pm): ANSWER YOUR PHONE NOW

shoko (4:00pm): TMZ JUST POSTED YOU ARGUING WITH TOJI. CALL ME!!

shoko (4:01pm): OMG (NAME), WHY IS YOUR PHONE OFF. THIS IS SERIOUS

shoko (4:03pm): im coming over after my shift at the hospital! you better open or I'll kick the door down.

unknown number (3:25pm): hey princess.

unknown number (4:10pm): just saw the video. wanna talk about it? sorry your bf's a dick

toji 💘 (4:05pm): answer the phone now. i'm not fucking around.

toji 💘 (4:07pm): you're a fucking brat, feel better now that you embarrassed us?

and only one missed call from him out of the near one hundred you had gotten from your family and friends.

"i'll call you back dad, i have to go." you hung up before he could respond, saved the new number under "satoru 🏒" and called shoko.

✮

two weeks ago

satoru hadn't spoke to nor seen you since the video of fushiguro leaving you at a gas station was posted. you had missed the game today and satoru held a deep resentment toward his teammate for that. he wanted to see you before the next game tomorrow, which would be taking place in a different city. as would the next seven after that.

you never responded to his text which usually wouldn't bother satoru if it had been literally anyone else. he hadn't stopped thinking about what suguru told him two days ago, the secrets fushiguro was hiding from not just you but the public as well. he knew it wasn't his business.

he reminded himself again that you weren't his girlfriend but he still felt an odd sense of responsibility toward you. an urge to protect your heart from his teammate's bullshit. even if he didn't get you in the end, you didn't deserve what toji was doing behind your back.

that's what led to him grilling the man in the locker room after everyone else had left. he held him back under the guise that he needed to talk to him about his performance at the game today when that couldn't be further from the truth.

"make it quick cap. got some things i need to get done before we fly out." toji glared at him with his arms crossed.

satoru took his time removing his helmet, ruffing up his hair before setting it in his locker. his pads were next, followed by his shinguards and gloves. toji was clearly annoyed, sighing impatiently which only made satoru smirk and shoot him a wink.

"how's (name) holding up?"

toji was immediately defensive, standing straight and moving closer to intimidate satoru, though the captain was still slightly taller than him. "fuck do you care for, gojo? you fuckin her or something?"

"not yet." satoru could lie and say he didn't mean to say it, but where was the fun in that? he loved to see toji riled up and was dying for a reason to lay him out after how he publicly humiliated you.

"don't fuck with me. couldn't give a fuck if you're captain or not, don't disrespect my girl." toji all but hisses.

satoru let his laughter fill the room. loud and obnoxious, stomach squeezing as if what toji said was the funniest thing he'd heard all week. "no, that's just reserved for you right? i knew you were still the same scumbag from college but, a baby? that's a new low, even for you."

toji froze, his eyes doubling in size as all the color drained from his face. his mouth dropped open but he didn't say anything before slamming it shut again. satoru couldn't help but think how weak he looks right now. he hadn’t even mentioned the rumors of his gambling, the pregnancy accusation had been more than enough to leave the man stunned. 

“what is she now? four months? and you’ve been dating (name) for five, which means you’re not only going to be a father but you’re a fucking cheater too.”

having had enough of being scolded like a child, toji locked eyes with his old friend, wondering where they went wrong. years ago he would do anything for him but right now, he never hated anyone more than satoru gojo and he could tell the captain fucking knew it by the way he smirked.

"so what? you gonna run and tell her, act like some kind of prince charming and fuck her while her walls are down. that your goal gojo? you might be as shitty as me."

"oh I'm not gonna say a word to her. you are."

it was toji's turn to laugh, equally as obnoxious. "like fuck i will."

satoru was past finding this entertaining, his face switching into a threatening look as the act dropped, his voice low and threatening as he leaned closer until he was next to toji's ear. "you'll do it, or else i'll be forced to report your illegal gambling to the higher ups. what was the punishment for betting on your own team again? that's it, you'd be kicked out of the league."

✮

present (early march)

you hadn't seen or heard from toji since he left the city two weeks ago, traveling for some games away from home and you were surprisingly calm about it. you'd been knee deep in your studies for the bar exam coming up in july, and didn't have room on your schedule for relationship drama. you were pretty sure you were going to end things anyways but wanted to do it in person.

it turns out that dating famous people wasn't for you. you preferred a lowkey life, one that didn't include getting harassed by your boyfriends fans because: how dare you slam the door of toji fushiguro's car! you ended up making your account private and deleting comments until the hype died down and people moved onto the next big story.

it only took a week of nonstop harrassment, no big deal! then, after you posted a selfie with your account public again, the "she's such a diva!" "the (name) hate was so forced now y'all love her 😂" "that's a baddie right there 💅" comments started pouring in. though you could also thank gojo for that.

he reposted the picture on his story (which you liked) and only captioned it: 🤍

then he commented:

satorugojo: pretty girl (15,340 likes)

you didn't like it, not wanting to stir up any rumors more than he probably already did but it didn't bother you either. your actual reaction was to bite your lip, grinning like a teenage girl with a crush and pull out your rose toy. imagining a certain white haired, blue-eyed hockey player to help push you over the edge. it technically wasn't cheating, especially if your boyfriend ghosted you and you had plans to break up with him anyways.

you were just a girl.

a week after that, the boys were returning from their out of state games and shoko invited you to a party being thrown to celebrate them winning every game (eight in total!). it was a team effort of course, but you knew the real star was gojo. he was a beast on the ice, often being called the king of the rink by sports channels.

you watched a few games on tv, noticing how his teammates passed him the puck and he'd immediately shoot without thinking twice. he never froze, always confident in his ability to carry his team to a win. he was the sniper and captain for a reason, having insanely accurate aim and scoring from angles that seemed near impossible.

his post-game interview only proved how cocky he was.

interviewer: you made that look easy. what happened from your perspective?

gojo: their goalie gave me too much room. that’s on him.

and it was the hottest thing ever. his confidence, the way his white hair stuck to the sweat on his forehead, his dimple flashing whenever he smiled. it's what made you finally decide to text him. it was simple, just a quick "watched the game last night, you killed it! 🐐🏒"

to which he responded: "scored just for you, princess." and you didn't respond but hearted the message then screamed into your pillow.

now you were squeezing into a black dress that hugged your figure nicely and matching tights after telling yourself you were done with the public scene. unfortunately shoko was your best friend and you always had trouble telling her no.

you let your hair down tonight, spraying on your favorite japanese cherry blossom perfume as she walked into your bathroom.

she wore a dress similar to yours, only hers was purple and she slung a leather jack over her shoulders that had the teams logo and colors. the upper right patch sporting the number "2", which was geto's number. you didn't mention it but smirked to yourself.

"you look hot as fuck. think toji's gonna be jealous when his own team is drooling over you?"

you groaned as you applied your clear lip gloss, not wanting to hear his name. you still had to break up with him and weren't looking forward to it. you planned to pull him aside at the party where there would be plenty of people to thwart the explosive reaction you knew you would get in private.

"he should be." was all you said before she was pulling you out the door and into an uber. the party was more private and at geto's house, so you were glad there wouldn't be as much paparazzi as a nightclub might have.

you found yourself playing with your thumbs the entire twenty minute drive there, watching as the city lights faded into trees as you made your way into the hills. buildings turning into mansions, the stars in the sky becoming more visible with less light pollution.

you were nervous about breaking up with toji but more anxious about seeing gojo. especially after he reposted you on his story and called you pretty girl in your very much public comment section. his publicist probably scolded him for that one. as far as the public knew, you were still with toji.

"ready?" shoko grabbed onto you, stopping your fidgeting hands as the car slowed down in front of a surprisingly modest sized home, compared to the other ones in the neighborhood. your stomach twisted at the sound of loud music and at least fifty cars parked in the street and in front of geto's three garages.

you thanked the driver before stepping out of the car, heels clicking against the pavement as your friend pulled you toward the gates. there was one man waiting with a camera strapped across his neck, though he quickly lifted it when he spotted you.

multiple flashes started going off and you had to block your eyes as he started yelling. "(name)! you here to see toji or gojo?" "(name), what happened that day at the gas station? seemed heated!" you ignored every question while shoko told him to fuck off and pulled you through the gates after confirming her invitation with security.

you tried to blink the light spots away and not allow that creep to ruin your night. you didn't understand how stalking people just to get their photo wasn't illegal but that was a problem for another day because you were at the front door that had been left wide open. the bass from the song playing giving you a boost of confidence as you slid your jacket off and threw it on one of the racks at the front door.

you didn't know what to do with yourself so you let shoko pull you along, "geto said they'd be out back by the pool!"

oh. it was that kind of party. it's not that you didn't know how to swim, just that you needed a very good reason to do so plus it was cold as fuck. you weren't a fan. you didn't even think about the fact that shoko had geto's number as she kept dragging you through a sea of bodies.

couples were basically fucking as they danced to the music, men and women alike were throwing back shots like no tomorrow, someone was throwing up in the corner. it was only eleven and these kind of events lasted until three of four in the morning. not that you'd be staying any longer than needed to satisfy your friend.

the pool was big with checker style tiles at the bottom and matching black sun chairs on each side of it. most were being occupied by members of the team you recognized, a pretty girl or guy on their lap. some people splashing each other in the pool.

on the lawn kicking a ball back and forth was gojo, suguru and a few other men you'd never seen before. toji was there too, standing with his back against the fence, playful smirk on his face, dressed in a plain black shirt and jeans. you froze when he looked up and made eye contact with you.

"i think i'll wait inside, you go ahead!" you pulled away from your friend before she could stop you and bolted into the house, toji following while yelling your name.

you pretended you didn't hear him as you entered the music bumping house, in search of a drink and an escape. your nerves were getting the best of you. you'd never actually broken up with someone before, opting to just let them ghost you or you ghost them. this was different, toji was obviously not going to let that happen like you hoped he would.

what were you even supposed to say? "hey, I'm really sorry but i'm not feeling the spark between us anymore and I think we should break up. oh by the way, I have a fat crush on your captain." you guess that wasn't really bad as long as you left out the last part.

you beelined toward geto's kitchen, pushing past people and moving around the island to get to the fridge. pulling it open you sighed in relief that there was one last bottle of heineken, grabbing it greedily before cracking it open against the counter. you didn't really drink but knew you would need it in order to survive this conversation that loomed over you like a dark cloud.

your entire body tensed when you heard him enter the room, yelling your name and making you want to die of embarrassment as a few people stared. how did this become your life? this is exactly why you didn't date in the first place!

you took a few sips before setting it on the counter and turning. time to face the music.

he moved toward you with a frown, having the nerve to look confused at the fact that you might not want to talk to him. it was going to be a long night.

"what the fuck? why are you ignoring me?" he grabbed onto your arm but you were quick to snatch it away. scoffing in disgust when he started checking you out. "the fuck are you doing wearing that short ass dress out the house like you're not in a relationship?"

"ha! are we even together still? I haven't heard from you in two weeks dipshit." you put more space between the two of you, pressing your back against the counter as he moved closer. he reeked of alcohol and weed, the white of his eyes turning red, eyelids slightly droopy.

he bit his jaw, taking in a deep breath and looking around before speaking. "i've been focused on the games, y'know that. can we talk in private?"

"absolutely fucking not. whatever you need to say you can say it right here." you hardly had time to process what was happening before he yanked your arm and started pulling you to the front door. you were too stupefied to protest, letting him control your body until you were on the front lawn where only a few security guards were, paparazzi guy gone.

you yanked away from him again, giving him your best death glare as you stopped yourself from smacking his face off.

"speak and make it quick, i don't wanna spend all night arguing." you could tell toji was taken aback by your tone by the way he leaned away from you. you had never talked to him this way, acted so indifferent toward him.

"listen.. first i need you to know that i wasn't ignoring ya on purpose. i knew you were pissed and wanted to give you the space you need to cool off. you think we can actually talk now?"

"i'm still standing here aren't i?" you needed to keep your act up. seeming cold would make it easier to break up with him. he needed to understand that there was no saving this relationship and being sweet wouldn't help that.

"you're a fucking brat." he ran a hand down his face, suddenly interested in your heels. "don't kill me, doll. i need you to understand that i wasn't thinking straight when it happened. everything was moving too fast, i was drunk and didn't wear protection-"

you already knew where this was going, heart about to leap out of your chest as you squinted your eyes at him, humiliation crashing into you like a wave. all this time your suspicion had been valid, the red flags so obvious only a fool would ignore them. and boy were you the fucking fool.

honestly the entire thing was funny. here he was trying to find a way to tell you that he cheated on you, while you were trying to find a way to break up with him. kind of poetic how everything came together in the end.

but no protection? he either was about to tell you he'd gotten another woman pregnant or he contracted something from her.

"fuck are you laughing for? i didn't even finish-"

"oh you definitely did finish. god you're so pathetic. so which is it toji? do you have a baby on the way or do i need to get an std screening?" you had always worn condoms with him but you could never be too sure about anything. your hands started to tremble despite trying to hide it.

"the former." he grumbled. nice.

this was really fucking nice. you hit the goldmine when picking him over gojo huh? you regretted hiding your feelings all this time, forcing yourself to be with someone who wasn't even your type. who was originally only a door to get access to another man.

"wow. i have to hand it to you toji, you really embarrassed me in ways i didn't think possible. well, good luck with that." you moved to push past him, wanting to get back to your beer before you lost your shit. only the man grabbed your arm, holding you still as you tried to wiggle away from him. he wasn't letting up, squeezing hard enough to keep you still.

"that's it, really?" he looked hurt. he looked hurt. oh my god, if you got anymore mad than you already were you'd probably explode. literally.

"aww, was i supposed to cry? because honestly, i’m just embarrassed i stayed this long. you weren't even my first choice, won't be too hard moving on."

you moved to pull away again but toji was furious this time, pulling you back hard enough to make you stumble but he kept you upright, pulling close enough that you had to look up to face him. "the fuck are you talking about?"

his eyes were dark, set in an untamed fury but all you could do was grin. you were starting to get cold and needed this conversation to be over. "don't make me laugh toji. you didn't seriously think i was at that party looking for you? it's a shame gojo wasn't there that night or else i could have avoided wasting my time with this."

“hey you piece of fucking shit! let go of her before i break your wrists."

your heart sped up at the sound of gojo's voice coming from behind toji. you looked past him and there he was, wearing a tight black nike shirt that showed off all his muscles. with grey sweats that hung low on his hips and exposed the top of his boxers, but you were too busy staring at the huge dick print pressing against his pants.

holy shit. you were soaking your panties as another man had you yanked up and looked ready to kill you.

"mind your fucking business gojo." toji hissed but kept his eyes locked on you while you kept your eyes on the man behind him.

gojo looked pissed but winked at you before he started to move, making his way to the front lawn before stopping a few feet away from toji.

"i said let her go before i beat your fucking ass fushiguro."

toji huffed out a laugh, turning to look at his teammate. he wasn't stupid enough to think he could outright beat him in a fight. gojo was more on the lean side but that didn't equal weak, and toji knew that by having his fair share of fights with him when they were younger.

it didn't help that you were looking at the man like you were about to start drooling and clawing at him. he doesn't know why he didn't put it together before. the way your eyes would drift while he kissed you at games, the eagerness to join him at every party they had, the fact that you were following gojo on instagram but not him.

toji had never been checkmated like this and did the first thing that came to his intoxicated mind. he turned so he was facing gojo, moving his hand from your arm to the middle of your back and smirked. the feeling sending chills down your spine, eyes wide at the action.

"you want him so bad? there he is, whore." and he pushed you so hard that you gasped as you tripped and twisted your ankle. but before you could hit the grass, gojo caught you, his arms wrapping around your body and pulling you against him.

"are you fucking insane?! i'm gonna kill you fushiguro!" gojo roared at the man's retreating body moving to the front gates, starting up his motorcycle and speeding away.

gojo made to follow but you tightened your grip on his shirt, biting your lip as you stared at him. head titled back, hair falling from your heated face. "don't leave. it-it hurts to stand."

gojo looked conflicted before looking back at you. a rush of desire flooded you from the intense stare he gave you, fury and worry written across his face, his blue eyes glowing a little brighter under the moonlight. "shit, okay okay, uhm- let me just-"

and the world titled when he bent and picked you up, your arms immediately going to wrap around his neck. holding you bridal style as he walked back into the house and made his way toward the stairs. most people minded their business, though some stared and whispered to each other:

"what's she doing with him?

"isn't that toji's girl?"

"didn't you see the video? i think they broke up."

only shutting up when gojo shot them all a promising glare. you just tucked your head into his neck, inhaling the smell of his cologne, a mixture a vanilla and something spicy. you heart was thumping so hard that you felt it in your throat, the feeling of one of his arms under your legs while the other was dangerously close to your left boob.

you were on fire. body too busy buzzing with excitement to acknowledge the slight sting in your ankle.

he kept a firm grip, holding you close to his chest as he started moving up the stairs. he didn't say anything as he kept walking until he reached the first bedroom.

"get out." he told the couple that sounded like they were in the middle of making out. you didn't know as you kept your head hidden in gojo's neck, only feeling the wind they left behind as they rushed out and slammed the door behind them.

"i'm gonna sit you on the bed alright, princess?" his voice was loud against your ear as you refused to move your head, the vibrations from his throat sending butterflies to your dripping cunt. you could feel your juices coating your inner thighs and you weren't even embarrassed. you were sure gojo heard what you told toji and he was still here with you which meant there was a possibility he wanted you to.

you nuzzled your nose against the side of neck, inhaling deep to savor his smell. had he been drinking? you didn't smell any alcohol and for some reason that turned you on even more.

you heard him take in a sharp breath, his grip on you tightening and a small groan escaping his lips. "that's not fair darling. i gotta take a look at your ankle. can i do that first?"

"y-yes." but you still whined when he gently sat you on the edge of the bed, moving to his knees in front of you to inspect your injury.

you sighed in relief when he slipped your first heel off, his low raspy chuckle making your pussy contract against nothing. "hmm, not this foot then?"

you finally looked at him and your head spun with how hot he looked between your legs, staring up at you with those sharp blue eyes and a grin on his face. looking like he was made to be between your legs.

you wanted so badly to pull his hair and guide his face toward where you actually needed him to take care of you.

✮

satoru gojo realized that he was a very weak man when it came to you. no one had ever had him on his knees as he checked them for injuries, nor had they ever moaned so blatantly at an innocent touch. it made his entire body hum with need.

he fought every urge, every instinct to rip those stupid tights off your body and plunge his face between your legs. he wanted to lick you until you were squirting on his tongue and riding his face, calling out his name and his only. then he'd fuck you in that dress, make you cream all over his dick while he filled you until you begged for him to stop.

but he couldn't, remembering the conversation he had with toji in the locker room.

you were vulnerable right now whether you realized that or not. having a bombshell dropped on you, being manhandled by that ogre and then fucking you would be wrong. and that's how satoru knew he was fucked because had you been anyone else, he'd already be inside of you.

he was careful with your next foot, slowly removing the heel and freezing halfway when you hissed in pain. he was actually going to kill fushiguro, but he needed to take care of you first.

"let me know when to move, princess." and the way your body shivered had him feeling like he was the messiah himself. you nodded your head and bit your lip, never breaking eye contact with him. it made him feel..nervous? his friends would never fucking believe that. probably would tease him endless if they knew how much you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

he controlled himself, took your heel off all the way and stood. looking down at you while you were leaned back with your arms behind your body to keep you upright, staring at him like the sun rises and sets on him. satoru had overheard what you said to toji, that you had been looking for him the day you got with him. it made him feel a little less crazy for this obsession he's had with you, knowing you wanted him too.

you wanted him!

"stand for me. wanna make sure it's just hurting and not sprained or broken." satoru was no doctor but he had his fair share of injuries with being a hockey player.

when you stood, that skimpy dress of yours rose just a little and exposed the under curves of your hips before you pulled it down. yeah, you were trying to kill him and he would gladly let you. it was almost sad, honestly. if only satoru were able to easily feel shame.

"what's it feel like?"

"just stings a bit but i can put weight on it."

"good."

then it was silent. painfully so. you were fiddling with your fingers, looking everywhere but at him and he was fighting the urge to pull your body against him. it didn't have to be sexual, he just really wanted to touch you. make you feel special in all the ways toji had never done, to make you forget the hurt he watched you try to hide.

"look, i'm sure you heard what i told-"

"was it true?" and he responded so fast that it made you chuckle and step closer to him. warm cheeks was the closest he'd feel to embarrassment. like i said, the man rarely felt shame.

"yes."

and then he was reaching toward, placing both of his hands against your hips and pulling you tight against him, internally smiling at the way you gasped. he grabbed your chin and lifted your face to his, almost laughing at how blown out your eyes were. his pretty princess. seems he wasn't the only one whipped.

he leaned forward until his lips ghosted over yours. he could feel your breath clashing with his, an magnetic force buzzing between you, two opposites trying to latch together. "now's the time to tell me to stop."

and when you responded: "why would i do that?" he let his lips press against yours. it was slow, not rushed and messy like how he kissed his dates. you deserve more than that. he took his time, committing the way you felt to memory, trying not to cum in his pants.

the air around you both is charged, walls closing in on satoru as he lost himself to you. the floor shifting beneath him, music lowly thumping in the background as he tuned the world out and focused only on you and your very soft lips. then he teased them with his tongue, testing boundaries. so that's what your lipgloss tasted like.

stars burst behind his eyes when you connected your tongue with his. he groaned into your mouth as he deepened the kiss and your hands slowly crept up his chest, manicured nails lightly scratching his muscles.

he knew he should stop things here but his mind was gone and soon enough he was pushing you back to the bed, letting your body fall before he was back on you. he settled between the legs you so willingly spread for him, his throbbing cock pushing against your pussy. his lips locked against yours.

"satoru." you moaned when he started trailing kisses to your neck, hips grinding against his length as you gripped the sheets and the man was actually shaking.

that was the first time he heard you say his first name. most people opted to call him by his surname, which was normal in his culture but to hear the way it fell from your lips.. he thought he might be in love with you.

"fuck princess. you smell so good, got my dick leaking right now. y'know that?" then he was back above you before he got to the point of no return, reminding himself that he said he wouldn't take advantage of you. he typically wasn't a very patient man when it came to taking care of his needs, but for you he would try.

"i can't, i-i'm sorry" and satoru hadn't stuttered since he was child, but this was the man you had reduced him to. he quickly removed himself from you, sitting on the bed next to you as he placed his elbows on his bouncing legs, head in his hands as he attempted to regain some kind of control.

"what? why the fuck not?" you shot up, looking at the man beside you like he had an extra head. hurt in your voice that had him lifting his head to look at you. your eyes were glossy and it nearly broke his composure. his heart sunk at the thought that you might think he didn't want you.

"can't take advantage of you like that-"

"you're not! i want this just as much as you do, why are you doing this?" and if he knew how desperately you'd wanted been wanting him for the past two years, then maybe it would be a different story. but he didn't, so he stood his ground.

literally. he leaped up from the bed, dragging his hand through his hair as he paced the room.

"i won't take advantage of you like that. you just broke up with your boyfriend after finding out he cheated on you and then he-"

"i know what he did." and his heart cracked just a little at the glare you shot at him. he never wanted to be at the center of your ire, even if you looked fucking adorable with your lips set in a pout.

"then you understand why i can't fuck you right now, as much as i want to."

then you were standing and making your way to him, favoring your right leg and satoru started thinking of what weapon he would use to kill toji. he moved to help you, attempting to lead you back to the bed and mumbling about going to get you ice but you stopped him.

"satoru..i appreciate the concern, but i've been wanting this for a very long time."

he couldn't help the shit eating grin that spread across his face. he was still satoru gojo after all and your words did nothing to help his already large ego.

"yeah?" he whispered, running the back of his hand down your cheek, amused at the way you shivered against him. "tell me how long, beautiful. how many times did you touch yourself and imagine it was me instead?"

"two years."

oh.. his eyes darkened and in a flash his mouth was back on yours and your bodies were once again tangled together on the bed. your equally aroused moans filled the room, the party long forgotten as he gripped your hips and ground his aching cock into you. trying not to cum at the way you were squirming beneath him, begging him for more.

new plan: satoru was going to eat your pussy until you screamed his name and burst on his tongue.

✮

you were gone beneath gojo. your pussy was throbbing, head thrown back in pure ecstasy, heart trying to break free of your chest. he hiked your dress up your hips, taking care to caress them before he kissed his way down your body.

he was savoring you, his teeth lightly nipping at your inner things before he sat back on his legs and stared down at you like he were a god and you his worshipper. the room was dark save for the moonlight and it gave his eyes an unnatural glow. his white hair falling to his eyes before he pushed it back.

"lift your hips for me, princess."

your breath caught, face on fire and tingling as you obeyed the man above you. strong hands instantly grip the top of your black tights, slowly pulling them down your body along with your panties. your juices had escaped your underwear and stuck to your thighs and the sight had gojo ripping the tights of you, no longer as patient as he once seemed.

"gonna make you feel so good. make you forget all about that bastard. that okay, love?" the way he was eyeing your bare pussy as he settled his face between your thighs had your nipples hardening, your entire body hypersensitive to the man below you. he noses your thighs, kissing and biting like a man starved.

you couldn't tell if he was joking or not. you were practically a puddle beneath him and he still questioned if you wanted him. "yes! god, yes. please, i need you satoru."

he was immediately on you, licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit before sucking on it hard. you threw your hand back, hands moving to grab his hair as you started riding against his face. the way he ate you like you were his last meal would be the death of you. you couldn't take in full breaths, too busy moaning like a whore and fucking yourself against the man that plagued your thoughts for two fucking years.

"taste as good as you look." he mumbled against your pussy, the heat of his breath making you shake violently. he was quick to add two fingers, pushing them deep while your back arched off the bed.

your moans were pornographic when you looked down at him, his eyes locked solely on yours.

you would feel embarrassed by the sounds you were making so obviously telling him you hadn't been touched in a while, if he didn't look drunk on your pussy. his eyes rolling back as he curled his fingers inside of you and sucked harder. your squishy walls tightening around him.

"satoru! oh my god, ngghhh m'gonna cum- haaah!"

he pumped his fingers faster, his other hand gripping your hip and pulling you flat against his face. the feel of his nose nuzzling against you had you squirting against his mouth, your own dropped open in a silent scream as you tightened your thighs against his head.

he groaned and drunk up everything you gave him. gojo looked feral, like he would die if he missed even a drop. the feeling so intense that you were momentary blinded by the white pulsing pleasure rushing through your body from head to toe.

✮

two days later gojo texted you while you were doing some shopping with shoko. he had been doing that a lot since that night, texting and calling you when he wasn't practicing or doing whatever hockey players did when they weren't on the ice.

satoru 👅 (2:10pm): ever been ice skating?

you (2:10pm): no lol, i'd fall and break my neck 🤦‍♀️ no thank you.

that was how you found yourself standing rock solid in the rink of his practice facility. he assured you no one would be there today and he was careful to sneak you in the back to avoid paparazzi.

you tried to protest, really you did but he was annoyingly determined.

"i don't have skates."

"i'll buy you some"

"what if I fall?"

"i won't let you."

"i've never done this before."

"i'll teach you."

an hour and a half later here you were scowling at the man currently hovering over you, wearing those stupid white skates he got you, trying not to fall on your ass. you dressed yourself in blue jeans, a plain long sleeved white shirt and your faux fur jacket to keep you warm. your hair tied tight behind your head.

he was dressed in black sweatpants, black skates and a #1 blue jersey that he wore over a long sleeve shirt.

"don't look at me like that, princess. makes my dick hard."

he pulls you closer and you slide forward, almost falling because you were clueless as fuck and didn't think to move your legs. he smirked when you fell to his chest, his blue eyes sparkling at you.

he gripped your chin before placing a gentle kiss to your lips and moving to stand beside you. you were swooning, but made sure to hide that from the man who was obviously trying to humiliate you.

"relax your ankles. you look tense as fuck, that's only gonna make this harder."

you shot him a "keep talking, i dare you" look but listened to him anyways. trying your best to relax and remind yourself that satoru was a professional and wouldn't let anything happen to you.

"start by putting one foot in front of the other. we're just gonna glide, nothing crazy."

he waited for you to move first, his patience surprising you. satoru was the complete opposite during his games, a beast on the rink that earned him a spot amongst the greatest at his young age. and here he was, hand reaching to grab yours. letting you to make the first move. it gave you butterflies.

you sucked in a deep breath before grounding yourself. "ok, i'm ready."

satoru placed a kiss to the side of your head before skating in front of you so he could guide you. you had insisted on staying by the board, which you gripped like your life depended on it.

slowly you let your feet move you forward, marching more than actually gliding but you were moving and that was all that mattered. even if the man in front of you was obviously holding back a laugh while you were actively fighting for survival.

"you're doing great, now try to actually slide. you're not in a marching band."

it took you a while but when you started to get the hang of it, you were doing something close enough to skating to satisfy satoru. he praised you the entire time. telling you how hot you looked on his turf, how you were his real life ice princess, how he was going to eat your pussy real good if you stayed upright.

he was driving you up a wall. showing off when you finally found the courage to push off the wall, skating around you and stealing kisses that left you flustered. he started skating backwards effortlessly, arms crossed at his chest as he smiled at you with pride written across his face.

you personally had no idea how he did this for a living. while you were mostly doing ok now, you still struggled to stay up right, arms in front you just in case you fell. he always made it look so easy but you realized just how chaotic this sport could be.

after a little more showing off, he skated behind you with his hands on your hips and his mouth littering your neck with kisses. he squeezed you against him as he shifted weight and dug the blade into the ice, easing you both into a stop.

"you did great babe."

you let your head fall back on his chest, legs tucked between his as you came back down to earth. one of his hands left your hip, while the other rubbed circles against your exposed skin. you didn't even realize he was taking a picture until your phone was blowing up with notifications later that night.

satorugojo tagged you in a photo

satorugojo: future first overall pick

and the comments went crazy.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ‎‎note: i'm thirsting over the jjk men real bad right now and need gojo inside of me RAW! also sorry if anything is inaccurate, i crammed some hockey research in before and while writing this 😅 ps: i'm american so it might be diff in your country! did y'all catch that shatter me reference? 🤭

You were sitting with two of your coworkers, who you would consider your closest friends on your lunch break. You haven’t spoken to Nanami since the weekend, sharing texts back and forth on which movie was playing in theaters. How adorable you thought that Nanami was so consistent in keeping a little tradition you both had. It seemed as if he liked to have a routine, and you did too. You scrolled through a list of what movies were currently playing and selected three to forward to Nanami and let him make the final decision. You giggled at his text when he shared that he already bought 2 tickets in advance.

"What?" your coworker asked leaning over your shoulder to look over your cellphone. You flinched and brought the phone to your chest. "Nothing what." you responded. "You were smiling on your phone and ignoring my conversation."

"It's nothing just a funny video." you dismissed. You didn't want to tell anyone outside of your family the relationship you were developing with Nanami just yet. What if someone were to find him and snatch him up before you? That can't happen at all. You had to remind yourself, Nanami Kento is still…a man. But he was so different from the last men you've encountered in your life. But that scared you a bit, what if all how he portrayed himself was just an act? Your horrible luck with men left a scar in your heart, always second guessing yourself on whether you'll ever be good enough for the man that's in front of your eyes. And Nanami was more than enough to you. You would describe him as all the male characters in the romance books you read. And oh how you wished to see him everyday, be apart of his life even. You were ready to experience it. What it would be like to call you his girlfriend, what it would be like to take so many pictures together, and what it would be like to just wake up the next day with him right by your side. You couldn't wait any longer, maybe you had to push a few buttons. But what if he wasn't ready at all? All these questions in your head left you to no answer whatsoever. But you knew someone that did.

You tapped your older sisters contact and typed out your message and hit send:

'i need to talk to you, can i come over maybe this weekend?'

Emiri

'sure! come over at 2? Got some errands to do before.'

You breathed and went back inside as your lunch break had ended quicker than you thought.

────﹒♡﹒────

You knock on the door to your sisters apartment that she shared with her husband. You felt fortunate that they decided to live not far from you and your parents home. Only having to take 2 different trains. Long rides, but they at least you didn't need to take an airplane to visit your sister on the weekends. She opened the door and you invited yourself inside, "I made us these hot pumpkin chai lattes, I've always wanted to try them so let me know if you like it." she said. You nodded your head back at her and put your bag down on the living room sofa. "So what's wrong, why did you need to see me?" she asked. You sat down with her in the small dining table, looking down at the hot mug of the latte with whipped cream on top. You took a small sip trying not to burn your tongue. "It's good, I like it." and you did, it had the perfect amount of sugar and spice for you. Nanami would probably like it as well you thought. Then you realized why you were here originally for Emiri. "I'm here because I want to have a second opinion other than mom…" You stared down at your hands on the table. "Okay? About what?" she asked, her face already showing slight signs of worry.

"About Nanami-" you said.

"Oh no, what happened? Did he do something mean, I swear if he did something." she responded, already getting agitated just from the subject. "No, he didn't do anything wrong, I think it's just me." You muttered at the end. "Oh god, what did you do?" Emiri questioned. "No! Nothing!" This had already not go to plan.

"So then, what happened?"

"Well ever since he took me out the other night, I've never really had these feelings so hard for anyone. I want to see him every day, I daydream of what our future could be like together, as stupid and pathetic as that sounds. I sometimes wish he could just ask me to date him, but if he ever did, I feel like I would throw my guts up and get so scared. We call and text but nothing is really initiated, it's all just mutual. I sometimes feel too vulnerable and it scares me, a lot. I don't know what to do, and I get so worried that he could be talking to other women and cut me off and I'm so terrified on how my heart would take that. I can't even tell my friends about him because I'm scared they would somehow get his contact and just take him because he's such a good man, he's what any girl wants in a man.." Your face was burning red right now. You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and looked up at the ceiling like a tone of bricks just plopped on your shoulders, but at the same time you felt relieved you could finally tell this to someone.

Your sister sighed at your entire rant and mumbled your name, "I understand..dating is really scary, but that's where putting trust in him comes to part. Don't you trust him that he wouldn't be leading you on?"

"I don't know…my past relationships with men were never great. You know that."

"Every human being on this Earth is different. I know your history with guys aren't great, mine weren't either, you remember my first ex. But something tells me my first relationship won't end the same way yours will."

"I don't know, things can happen.." You said.

"Maybe, but you'll never know unless you try. You do want him right?" Emiri asked you. You nodded your head back, you've never wanted a man in your whole entire life. Only just the silly fictional characters in the books you read or the movies you watch. But a whole real man has never walked in your life for you to see your whole future with until now.

You groaned and took a long sip of your warm drink, "It's just so crazy how he consumes my brain, we text but I hate texting, sometimes I even hate calling. And we face timed once because he was multi tasking, I couldn't go to bed after that night by the way. I just want to see him every single day. We could be doing nothing and I wouldn't even care, as long as he's just there."

"Then go after him, what I mean by that is don't literally chase him. The man has to always has to go after the girl. But, keep him wrapped around your finger. You need to trust in yourself that this can happen. And it will. Whole time this feelings you have is just you falling in love, which by the way I think it's so adorable that you're telling me all this." your older sister added. Your cheeks flushed from the embarrassment that you basically just poured your whole heart out to her about this man you've been seeing for a few months. And all that she said was right. Falling in love is the scariest thing to you right now, since it was pretty much your first time ever. Doing all this, and having no little faith in yourself did nothing to help.

And when it came to your body reactions, anything Nanami Kento did as a gentleman made your stomach do an insane amount of cartwheels. And whenever you would read one of your romantic books that had explicit content, sometimes your mind would drift to him wondering what it would be like if he had touch you so intimately. It was dirty, something you've never thought of at all, you've never even been touched like that before in your life. The only access you had to sex was through the books you read and the time you and your friends accidentally came across an 18+ website when you were in high school. You sometimes felt guilty thinking that way of Nanami because of the way he treated you, but you couldn't even help it. You had strong feelings for him that weren't going away any time soon.

"Thanks for the advice." You said to your older sister. "Anytime, but now I want updates. When are you guys gonna hangout again?" she asked. You started telling her about the movies you've been seeing with him and how he seemed to be enjoying going with you cause he always asks you, only you. He never invited anyone else, it was always you and him at the movies every month.

────﹒♡﹒────

Nanami Kento was reading a book he brought while he was waiting once again for Satoru Gojo to show up. It had been months since they last saw each other and Gojo had at this point demanded Nanami to show up for lunch or else he would find where he lives someway somehow. If Gojo were to find Nanami's house he would never hear the end of it at all, probably poorly judge and critique how warm toned it is and how there is not a single speck of dust in the home, but that's just how Nanami liked it. Only thing was that he often felt alone sometimes, especially when he always had leftovers for dinner. Ever since he met her he wishes to share his leftovers. Sometimes he would get so lost in thought and make too much dinner, as if he was serving for 2. Which he never did until he met her. That worried him a lot, he was getting off-track of his regular life because of his fond attraction towards this woman. He didn't mind it, as he enjoyed spending time with her and she was overall a very good person. She always looked put together, had very elegant manners, and was willing to do things for him such as paying for him and never talked back. All these traits made her even more attractive to Nanami's eyes. His mind would drift off when he would read his dating-advice books, picturing scenarios to do with her. Such as, how she would react if he touched those delicate soft looking hands, or putting his arm around her shoulder when they sit down together. And those lips, always having a certain gloss on them, he wouldn't care what flavor the lipgloss would be, as long as he got just one chance to feel those lips on his. No. He had to think of the reality first. No matter what, he wanted your comfort first, you deserved that more than anything. Who was he to think if he could just kiss you? How dare he let himself get ahead like that. He's never even held hands with you, but he wants to change that fast. There just has to be a right timing like his books say. And he could feel one, but could she? That was always the hard part with it all, he didn't want to be so pushing with her. Didn't want to scare her away from anything, he wanted the exact opposite of that, he wanted her to come to him from anything she was scared of. And he would make it all right for her.

The door jingled and Nanami's eyes looked up and he saw Gojo walk in not noticing Nanami until he was deeper into the restaurant. Nanami pulled on his casual tie, he knew he had to tell Gojo what has been going on in his life. Even though he prefers to keep things to himself, that would never work for his friend at all.

"Nanamin~" the white hair man spoke and sat himself down straight across from Nanami. "It's been so long, I hope you bring good news about…certain things…" he continued. "Are you going to eat anything?" Nanami said handing Gojo an extra menu, "You know I'm not here for that! But a sandwich does sound good." The two ordered their meals, two sandwiches with fries on the side and continued where Gojo had left off, "So? Anything interesting happen? Or are you finally a lost cause to society."

Nanami cleared his throat before he spoke, "I know what you're asking but I don't really want to answer you." He tugged on his tie again, a bad habit he has whenever he gets flustered by something or nervous. "Are you kidding me?! Spill, tell me what happened." Gojo looked at him now upset, he deserved to know everything that's been going on. If it weren't for Gojo, Nanami would have never met this lovely girl. "I'm not one…to share my feelings like this with anyone…" Nanami said softly. "Yeah no shit, do you like being this closed off?" his friend asked.

Nanami sat still in silence, it wasn't that he enjoyed being closed off. He just didn't find the right person to open up to, and it was hard to find the right one. Until now. With her, he could feel a sense of warmth and almost feel seen whenever he talked to her about anything. And she would never judge, he hoped. But she didn't seem like the type to at all. "I don't want to be…I guess it's hard for me not to be." he continued.

"Well that won't do if you want things to go further by the way. You do want things to go further right? Judging by that book on the table." Gojo laughed and pointed at the closed book that contained helpful tips on dating judging by the title. Nanami on the other hand flipped the book over so he would stop staring at the bold cover, his face in full beat red. "As much as I hate to say it, I guess you are right. Whenever I get home after spending time with her, I feel as if there is an empty hole in my chest and I look around my apartment and see nothing but the same things everywhere; that makes me upset now and it used to not be that way. I don't like going home alone, it feels lonely. I don't like how I live the same way every single day anymore." He finished. For as long as he could remember, a simple lifestyle with a good paying job was just enough for Nanami. After that, he will plan to retire with enough money till his grave and live somewhere with no bustling streets at all and read all the books he could ever imagine. But he never imagined spending it with someone, although that would be nice. Now, he wants that more than ever. Through the years, the loneliness was slowing creeping up to him no thanks to the past weddings he's gone to and witnessing people falling in love all around him. As much as he tried to avoid it, he couldn't stand it anymore. And she was the reason to all these problems.

"So don't live that way anymore, maybe you should tell her what you're telling me." Gojo stated back. Nanami's shoulders flinched before he shook his head, "No, no, she could get weirded out." he interrupted.

"Would she really?" Gojo asked.

No, no she wouldn't. She wasn't like that, she would feel so sorry probably. The two sat in quiet for a few seconds. Nanami couldn't even figure out what to say out loud to him. But he knew one thing for sure, "I don't want to move things too fast…"

"Oh my god you're such a bore. You have too! If you keep things at one speed you'll never reach the finish line!" Gojo explained more, "Before you know it, she'll get tired of you acting the same."

But I don't want to scare her, Nanami would say. However, he would just be going in circles once again. He just had to do one thing, make the first move.

nanami walks towards the kitchen, long legs taking him forward unfairly fast. when his gaze lands on your mess, he doesn't shout, doesn't order you out or fire you on the spot.

he pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. "clean this up before i fire you" is all he says

"y-yes sir!"

crisis averted, phew. you get to wiping the counters off immediately.

he lingers in the background, steel gaze nearly pinning you in place. that's the thing about him that always has your heart beating twice as fast; he speaks in few words, always curt, yet his actions suggest there's something more.

goodbye kitty is discarded along with the last bits of your ego. just as you're about to swipe flour down the drain, nanami lunges over grips your hand. hard.

"what have i told you about that, hm?"

within seconds, his face is uncomfortably close to yours. there's always some distance between you. now you're face to face, so close you can feel his body heat.

you freeze, pinned in place by his eyes. "uh, to not do it?"

he huffs a real sigh. "disposing of flour or batter in the drain clogs it. don't do it again, understand me?"

you gulp loudly. a meek "yes sir," is all you can muster.

he lets go of your wrist, tossing it into your chest. he leaves in silence, probably going to record inventory.

left to clean alone, you're finally free to process what just happened. after much thought, you come to three truths: one, it's a miracle that you weren't fired. two, cleaning this mess definitely isn't going onto your paycheck, and three, there's a new feeling bubbling up in your chest.

something you've ignored since you first saw him. vulnerable, new, totally inappropriate.

could it be... love?

you shake your head at that. there's no way you're falling in love with your boss more than you already have.

OOPSIES: KAREN KATASTROPHE!

you're currently doing your best to dissociate and act like the women in front of you screaming her head off doesn't exist. maybe you should've quit last saturday.

"i already told you, i want my lemon squares HOT!" she shouts, jabbing a finger at you. the only thing hot is her breath, but you can't say that unless you want to be fired for real this time.

you take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose before speaking (a habit you've picked up from nanami) "ma'am, the lemon squares are served cold. it says that on the menu," you deadpan.

she ignores you for the umpteenth time, saying "no it didn't," as if you both aren't staring at the same thing.

the other patrons are silently watching the affair, some taking their phones out and recording. this is incredibly embarrassing for you, not knowing whether to kick her out or endure this verbal barrage.

unfortunately, you're pulled out of your thinking by a ghoulish hand waving in your face. "where's your manager?!"

"right here."

the new voice is too solid to belong to the karen in front of you. you look to the source of it. it's nanami, stoic as ever. his face is a brick wall, expression unreadable. "what do you need, ma'am?" he remains professional though his voice lacks any warmth.

"well, i-uh, the lemons," she stammers on. the entire time nanami is staring into her soul. while patrons are quietly giggling (yourself included), it's clear he finds no amusement in this.

"look, ma'am," he interrupts, "i'm going to politely ask you to leave because you've disrespected my employee and our establishment."

flames ignite behind her eyes. "whatever! i am never eating here again!"

she turns on her heel, nearly tripping as she storms out the shop. "you forgot your lemon squares," nanami shouts behind her. you stifle a snort, as well as everybody else inside.

she comes back for them in shame. just as you think the threat is gone, she grumbles a curse towards a patron unlucky enough to be in her path.

"and don't come back," he finishes.

he goes around the shop apologizing to every customer, even giving them the shop's signature baguette. once the commotion dies down, he circles back to you.

"you handled that well."

"oh, thank you." his words are more shocking than what just happened. in the one and a half months you've worked here, the nicest thing he's said to you is how formal the font of your resume was.

"if someone bothers you again, tell me immediately." his voice drops, eyes glinting with something dark, possessive.

your cheeks warm, twiddling your fingers together. "of course, sir."

"no one disrespects my assistant or my establishment."

your heart breaks a little at that. you've been officially assistant-zoned!

later that day, you find some downtime by cleaning off spoons. the feeling comes back, warm and sticky in your chest. there it is, always creeping up on you when you're alone. it's planted itself inside you and there's no shaking it.

it's becoming easier and easier for nanami to fluster you, and it's purely accidental! but a small part of you hopes that it isn't.

OOPSIES: DISPLAY DISASTER!

one good thing came out of the karen situation: nana-pan has become a tourist attraction! videos of nanami's reserved reaction went viral, resulting in three times the usual amount of customers. he prefers the quiet vibe of the shop, but business is business.

he still doesn't break a sweat despite the increased workload, his only complaint being people asking for free baguettes all the time.

contrarily, you're losing your mind trying to adapt. you've never done well under pressure, much less while on the job. people are asking for nonexistent items, nanami's number and everything under the sun.

the bakery is packed wall to wall every day. between greeting customers, cleaning, baking and managing your sanity, you haven't had a second of down time.

so, is it really that surprising when you destroy an entire display in seconds?

it was 6pm on a saturday, peak business hours. everyone was getting off work and desperate to order before everything sold out. nanami changed the main display to most popular items, one of which being a massive 30 inch baguette that stuck out on either side.

a terribly confused elderly woman was inquiring about eclairs. your first mistake was walking backwards in such a crowded room.

"our traditional french items are here," you said, gesturing to a sneeze guard chalk full of pastries.

your second mistake was turning around too fast. while you aimed for the front counter, fate had other plans. instead of the counter, you're greeted by the massive baguette. unfortunate event after another, someone trips and crashes into you. instinctively your eyes close, bracing for impact.

when you try to open them, you quickly realize you can't. rubbing your eyes furiously, you pull your hands back to see... frosting?

your entire body is covered in frosting, among bread crumbs and sprinkles. it looks like king candy chewed you up and spat you out.

the entire bakery is dead silent. all chewing, chatter and meandering has stopped. pastries are strewn across the floor, each more damaged than the last.

nanami walks in just in time to see the disaster. his stone cold expression is twisted up in confusion, mouth parted for silent words. every head in the room moves to him, following his every step. your heart is frozen at the sight of your boss. he's surely going to take you to the back and hand in your two weeks notice.

but he doesn't do that.

he strides over to you, takes your hand and carefully stands you up. "please continue eating," he says, talking to everyone else. "this will be cleaned up shortly."

he guides you to his office, not bothering to look back at the chaos you just caused.

when he opens a drawer, you assume he was getting your letter of termination. instead, he pulls out baby wipes and cleans your face off. he doesn't bother asking if you need help, just does it without asking of anything in return.

nanami has never been this close to you. (not like you'd let him, anyway) seeing the crease of his brow when he's focused up close, the respect he shares, you can't ignore how hot, how confused it's making you.

"what's this?"

"what's what?' he asks, voice unnaturally quiet.

"i mean, this... i dunno, kindness?"

for the first time ever, you hear nanami chuckle. not a snort, not a breath that could technically be considered a chuckle if you closed your eyes and jumped three times.

"aren't i always kind?"

if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was joking. "we must have very different views of kindness." pausing, you add "you can be a little rude" rather quietly.

a frown ghosts across his face, gone as fast as it came. "well, i don't mean to come off as rude." your irritated sigh isn't lost on him. he focuses on the baby wipe instead of your miffed expression.

you gently push his hand away, suddenly finding it unbearable. "so that's just how you act?"

he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "yes. i can come off rather impassive, but i never mean to."

that gets your heart beating again, but your walls are still up. "so this whole time, you've just been treating me like a regular person? that's what you're telling me?"

"would you like me to treat you as something more?" he arches a brow.

the room has suddenly shrunk two sizes and so have your clothes. perceptive as ever, he notices the way you shift in your seat, unable to hide the quirk of his lip. "cat's got your tongue, aye?"

you look away. "no, it's just that i thought you hated me this whole time."

his face scrunches into something unreadable. "hate you? what would make you think i hate you?"

that's the last straw. you can't control the word vomit that erupts from your sprinkle ridden mouth. "you treat me like a burden. i can't bake, can barely talk to customers and have probably cost you thousands of dollars in damages. i'm surprised you haven't gotten rid of me yet."

"...and you're kinda mean."

you say it simply enough that it's almost laughable, yet maybe that's what he needed to hear to understand. the weight of what you just admitted hangs in the air. it's between you and him, the crevices of your fingers, the complexities of your heart.

"look at me," he whispers, so tenderly that it's disorienting. "you may be very clumsy, and yes, you burn the most basic desserts, but that's just you. if i didn't like you, you wouldn't be sat here right now."

you can't begin to describe how that made you feel. giddy?— no, that's too energetic. blissful, grateful, contented. something intimate is the only way to describe his effect on you.

"you mean it?"

"i do. i mean," he chuckles, "it's my first time being a boss and your first time working at a bakery. we're still learning, right?"

"right." you're smiling before you even realize it. cheeks warmed by affection, it makes him smile too.

he finishes cleaning you off, stopping to eat a sprinkle off your face. once you're fully cleaned up and changed, you both go back to the main floor and clean up the display. a few people pitch in, some clearly doing it in hopes of a discount or free food.

shift officially over, nanami watches you leave, calling a 'safe travels' behind you.

when you started working at nana-pan a month ago, you didn't expect to be falling this hard— or fast— for your boss. you thought he was attractive when you applied, but nothing could've prepared you for such a debilitating crush.

on the walk home, you realize three facts: one, you've been cemented in history as the bakery assistant who fell on her ass and made an ass of herself. two, walking backwards in crowded rooms is never a good idea, and three,

you're definitely in love with nanami kento.

masterlist | @orangethecarrotcoloredpaperred

“kento dear,” you began, soft steps quietly thudding against the wooden floors as you made your way to him, who was fully dressed: soft charcoal sweater hanging off his frame, pushed up revealing his forearms, reading glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose while his sandy locs unstyled in a way you almost never got to see outside these walls.

which, unfortunately, was the problem. he was far too comfortable for the atrocities he had just committed against you whilst you slept.

“did you touch it?” your voice coming out suspiciously calm.

nanami doesn’t even look up from the cup of jasmine tea he was nursing. “no.”

you only narrow your eyes as you finally end up next to him. “kento.”

that bratty tone of yours was enough to earn you a glance now, hazel eyes tired yet sharp all the same. “i told you, no.”

“yeah, well,” you huff, crossing your arms, looking up at him expectantly, “waking up feeling like i got left in a meat locker says otherwise.”

he shuts his eyes as he takes a slow sip of his tea, setting it down with a soft clink, the steam curling between you. “interesting,” he begins, voice flat with quiet amusement.

“you seem quite functional for someone who claims they’re—” he pauses, unimpressed, before lifting his hand and giving your forehead a quick, precise knock with his knuckles, withdrawing before you can even think to catch his wrist. “—frozen solid.”

“ugh!” you huff, hands missing his wrist and instead clutching your forehead with an adorable frown. “i’m not frozen solid, but i’m going to be. i don’t know why you just can’t leave it on 72.”

he exhales slowly through his nose, “you know i get hot. i shouldn’t have to strip to be comfortable in my own home,” he says flatly.

his hand lifts without much ceremony, gently replacing yours on your forehead. he briefly rubs the spot he’d knocked before his fingers slip down to tug lightly at your ear, earning an immediate, indignant whine from you.

“or would you prefer i start walking around the house naked instead?”

“what? i’m not answering that.” you say, turning your face slightly away from him, the words coming out clipped as you huff under your breath, “pervert…”, still clearly offended at the recurring offenses.

you manage to slap his arm away. “i don’t see why you insist on wearing long sleeves and then complain you’re hot.” you grumble. “you’re making me hot just by looking at you.”

he scoffs softly at that, as if the answer is obvious. “i wear it because i enjoy being properly dressed,” he replies, smoothing an imaginary crease from his sleeve before leveling you with a look. “and physiologically speaking, it’s significantly easier to warm up than it is to cool down.”

“so, like i said,” he murmurs, reaching for his tea again, “the thermostat stays where it is.”

and just like that, the war begins . . .

the rest of the day was full of quiet hostilities:

the two of you swiping the thermostat in opposite directions each time you walked by, addressing each other by first name as if you were two disgruntled coworkers trapped in an enemies to lovers arrangement rather than of spouses, nanami opening windows for “circulation” while you wrapped yourself in blankets like a victorian child afflicted with a devastating illness, texting each other back and forth instead of verbally communicating.

YOU ‣ my hands are blue and numb. i hope your happy

KENTO ‣ *You’re How are you texting me then?

YOU ‣ don’t be annoying ken. that’s not the point

clearly, neither of you were willing to concede. which only meant this was quickly becoming a battle of endurance rather than a dispute about “temperature”. which also meant this was not going to end soon.

or so you thought.

despite the many, many hours of domestic warfare, the two of you still end up in bed the same way you always did, backs turned dramatically beneath the blankets, the thermostat unfortunately still set at 63. which meant nanami was winning.

the cold seeped through the sheets and curled around your legs until your body instinctively tucks in on itself, shoulders hunching deeper beneath the comforter with a quiet frown hidden against your pillow. beside you, nanami remaining entirely unaffected, laid comfortably on his side with one arm tucked beneath his pillow, warmth practically radiating off of him in waves.

it was infuriating.

because no matter how committed you were to the cold war, your body had always betrayed you first when it came to your husband.

sometime somewhere in between stubbornness and sleep, you found yourself shifting toward him subconsciously, inch by inch until your forehead presses against his back, your leg slipping over his beneath the blankets in search of warmth. the soft fabric of the white shirt he’d changed into earlier brushes against your skin, warm from sleep and smelling faintly of cedarwood and tea.

and god, the bastard was warm.

firm beneath your touch too, broad shoulders relaxing slightly the second you curl fully into him with a sleepy little sigh.

you knew he was awake. you could tell by his breathing, it wasn’t the same comforting slow that soothed you once the day came to an end.

for a moment, neither of you said anything, pride still clawing at your insides. then came the soft shifting of sheets before nanami turned toward you, your forehead brushing against his chest as his strong arms came to cage you in instinctively, one settling around your waist while the other tucked beneath your head. his chin rested atop your hair with a quiet exhale, pulling you into his warmth. 

your fingers curl weakly into the front of his shirt, face pressing deeper against his chest despite yourself. somewhere above you, nanami hums softly, entirely too aware of the fact that you were the one to cave first.

an inevitable outcome.

“interesting,” he murmurs into your hair, sleep roughening his voice. “what happened to hating me?”

you grumble something incoherent against him.

“mm?” he asks, entirely too pleased with himself. “couldn’t quite hear you love.”

your brows pinch immediately. “still hate you.”

his chest rumbles faintly beneath your cheek at that, amusement subtle but absolutely there. absolutely nanami.

“so, you admit defeat?”

you tilt your head up just enough to glare at him through the dark. “i told you. don’t say anyth—”

you were going to argue. save whatever was left of your pride.

except your words barely make it out before he tips your face up just enough to cut you off with a slow kiss, warm and unbearably smug beneath the blankets.

any and all insults died in your throat as butterflies began to bloom low in your stomach, your leg still hiked around his waist while his warmth slowly melted the last stubborn pieces of your pride away as your lips firmly molded against his own, a soft sigh escaping you. one of spite, obviously.

you could feel the faint curve of amusement against your lips when your annoyed little huff melts into him anyway — the exact outcome the two of you had been stubbornly dancing around all day out of pettiness and “spite.”

nanami pulls away from you before resting his thumb on your lower lip. “there you are love,” he murmurs softly against your mouth, breath mingling with yours: entirely too pleased with himself.

“63 seems perfectly fine to me, no?”

he only watches as your expression softens in real time before giving the faintest nod — mentally noting the effect he had on you.

“mm,” he murmurs. “thought so.”

what a horrible, horrible man you married.

A month has passed since your Saturday with Nanami. You both had been texting back and forth on really anything. While you could tell Nanami wasn’t great at texting, his lack of emojis being one problem. But the other problem was that he preferred phone calls. You didn’t know why, isn’t texting just easier? But you could never say no to Nanami. You both would usually phone call every week, he would always ask how work was treating you, and you would ask the same. Telling you how the past few days he has been held back at the office, and sometimes he would come home to do more work. You weren’t sure if he wanted any advice from you, so you just kept your mouth closed but your ears open with mumbles of “sorry’s”. And on some occasions, he would facetime you. A bold move you thought. But was it? Or did guys normally just do this, how would you know? You often told your older sister the things you and Nanami did and she would just tell you: “He definitely likes you.” You wanted to believe her so badly, but the back of your mind was so confused. So confused and afraid that something would happen and he wouldn’t contact you again, or he found someone better than you because he started finding you less interesting the more you got to know each other.

One night you were both facetiming each other, you’ve never seen his hair down before and this was the first time. You often saw a few glimpses of his home. It was very minimalist, and it looked like he bought the included furniture. He told you the neighborhood he lives in is often quiet, and he liked it that way. And the same would go for him, he saw only glimpses of your bedroom. On the night you were both facetiming, he asked you about your bookshelves. You blushed. He had to remember the only books you read were romance ones, because then he asked: “Which one is your favorite on that shelf?” You turned around and looked at every single book, then you picked one with your eyes and said the name out loud. “Interesting, can I read it?” He asked.

“Uhm! Actually you should read this one..!” You got up to bring the book to show him closer on your phone. This book was the only one on your shelf that had no explicit content. He would definitely not contact you again if you gave him the other book.

“Okay.” He said,

“It’s really fun, I can lend it to you.”

Nanami smiled through the phone. You were gonna pass out in you were right then and there. He didn’t question why you didn’t want him to read your favorite one.

“I almost forgot to tell you,” He continued.

“Yes?”

“This new movie I saw looked pretty good, do you want to go next weekend?”

“Ah- is it that superhero one?” You asked.

“Yes.”

“Sure! I'm down to go.”

“Perfect, I will send you the times.”

Thus, this started you and Nanami’s monthly tradition of going to the movie theater.

────﹒♡﹒────

You and Nanami were chatting at a cafe one morning, he had told you he heard about this shop a few days ago, sending you a photo of his sweet treats and drink and telling you how he had discovered it opened a few blocks away from his work. He really wanted to take you there. You tried the new fall drinks and pastries they had, while he ordered his usual black tea but with a pumpkin puff pastry turnover to eat. You snapped another photo of your food, this time his food was also in the frame as you started growing more comfortable with him. Those phone calls really were worth every second. You showed him the photo you tried so hard to make aesthetic and he nodded with a smile. You then asked him if it’s alright for you to post the photo. “I don’t mind,” he replied.

“Do you have social media?” You asked him.

He shook his head, “I try my best to not use my phone a lot. Having social media I feel would ruin that for me.”

Oh. oh. What if he doesn’t like that I have social media? You hesitated with your thoughts.

“Then I won’t post it…” You said, putting your phone back in your bag.

“What? No, you should definitely post it.” He responded to you with concern in his eyes.

“No it’s okay I don’t really have to.” You were gonna explain another reason why you didn’t want to post it anymore before he stopped your train of thought with the call of your name from his voice. You haven’t heard him say your name in a long time…

“I want you to post it.” He said after calling your name and leaning more towards the small table you both shared, you could practically smell his cologne by now.

You stared at him for seconds. Trying your best not to move your eyes to your hand suddenly feeling warm by his on top of yours. When did he even put his hand on yours? You wanted to melt to the floor, butterflies were about to burst out of your stomach, it’s all too new, it doesn’t feel real. You blinked finally when a cellphone was ringing and Nanami pulled it from his pocket, his face frowned. “Excuse me. I’m sorry” he said and got up to go outside and answer his call. You finally removed your now sweaty hand from the table and stared at it replaying what just happened. You were hoping Nanami’s call would take a few minutes as you didn’t want him to see your tomato-like face right now. You’ll have to post that photo later.

You watched Nanami through the window outside, his head nodding to whoever was on the phone with him. But his face looked annoyed. It had to have been work calling. On a weekend? Who would want that? He looked over at you and you flinched your head back to finishing your fall-themed drink. The bells of the cafe’s door jingled and you heard footsteps coming from behind you. Nanami sat himself back in his original seat and let out a long sigh. “I am sorry for that.” he apologized.

“It’s alright” You responded. You didn’t want to bother asking about who called yet.

────﹒♡﹒────

You were on your way back to the train station Nanami promised to drop you off after your day with him. You both walked silently taking in the surroundings of the city's traffic and people that walk by. When you met your destination, you stopped your tracks, Nanami to follow. “The food was very delicious, as always,” you smiled. He hummed and nodded to your response. You looked down at the ground debating on asking him of that phone call, he never mentioned it. It’s like your mother said, if you aren’t always on his mind another girl will snatch him up. And people always appreciate it when someone cares for them right? You were only being nice, and then you spoke up. “Everything okay with work?” you asked.

“It was a call to do something when I get home. I am sorry for making you worry.” He answered, with another apology again. This man was so perfect in your mind. You wanted to know anyone who hurt him in the past so you can give them a piece of your mind. Did he even have enemies?

“It’s okay really! I’ve been told I’m a good listener anyway, not to brag or anything–” You stopped yourself before you could embarrass yourself even more.

Nanami smiled at you again and said your name. Again. Twice today.

“I wanted to ask you something before we part ways.” He said

You tilted your head in confusion waiting for his response.

“I want to take you on another date. A real one.” He said.

Time seemed to stop for you. But you couldn’t stop staring at his determined, genuine look on his face.

“Is that alright with you?” He asked, probably noticing the frozen facial expression you were giving.

You nodded quickly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “Okay, I’d like that.”

Nanami nodded back and you both said your goodbyes. On the train ride back to your home, you stared at your phone trying to distract yourself from the last encounter you had with Nanami. At this point, you didn’t want to disbelieve that everything was real. It was real. Things seemed to be going in a good direction, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything else. All that waiting, all that trial and error led to him. Perhaps the universe was just protecting you from all the men that did you wrong so you could find Nanami Kento.

it's stupid, risky, and exactly the kind of distraction you need right now. (anything to avoid homework ig)

your phone number ends in five.

you take a breath, open a new message thread, and type in your number, but change the last digit to a six.

you better be damn grateful i didn't make that six seven

you hey number neighbour! hope you arent a serial killer

you put your phone face down on your bed and wait. you expect to be ignored, left on read, or maybe blocked, like majority of the people out there on the internet.

five minutes pass. ten. then, your phone vibrates. with a racing heart, you glance at it.

xxx-xxx-xxx I'm not a serial killer, I am a student.

you snort, fingers already flying across the screen. who texts like that, apart from emailing a teacher? it's so.. stiff.

also, who just reveals that information?

okay then. you'll do the same.

you thats exactly what a serial killer would say im a student too how's life on the other side of the digit? xxx-xxx-xxx Life is fine. I'm currently finishing my evening meal. It's important to maintain a consistent schedule for digestion and recovery. you . okay 🥹 thanks for the health tip doc xxx-xxx-xxx You're welcome. you are you always this serious xxx-xxx-xxx I'm told I can be quite literal. I don't really see the point in unnecessary fluff. you unnecessary fluff 😭 well, im bored entertain me ! tell me something interesting about yourself without giving away your secret identity xxx-xxx-xxx I enjoy volleyball, and I'm left handed. you woah two fun facts and another lefty omg me too xxx-xxx-xxx Being right handed is more common, but it doesn't mean you cannot follow your interests effectively.

you stare at the screen. they sound like a textbook come to life.

you thanks for the pep talk, i feel so much more effective now 🤞 anyway im gonna go back to avoiding my essay xxx-xxx-xxx Okay you dont kill anyone tonight neighbor xxx-xxx-xxx I have already stated I'm not a murderer. Good luck with your essay. It's better to finish it now so you can sleep early.

you toss your phone aside, collapsing back on your pillows.

"what a weirdo."

you're sitting in the cafeteria, picking at your lunch, when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

xxx-xxx-xxx Did you finish the essay?

you almost choke on your own spit.

you hi to you too i did barely stayed up till two am xxx-xxx-xxx That is inefficient. Lack of sleep leads to decreased performance and physical sluggishness. you okay doctor xxx-xxx-xxx As I've stated before, if you scroll up to read our past conversation, I am not a doctor. you nvm what about you did you do your homework xxx-xxx-xxx I finished mine yesterday at 8pm. you sweat xxx-xxx-xxx Funny you should say, I'm actually at practice at the moment. you volleyball? xxx-xxx-xxx Yes. My teammate is yelling because I'm on my phone during a water break. He says I'm evolving because I'm texting a stranger. you LMAOO tell your teammate hes right you ARE becoming a social butterfly wait stranger?? we're neighbors theres a bond there xxx-xxx-xxx We share a numerical sequence. That is all. you ouch my heart 🥺 fine go back to your balls =3 xxx-xxx-xxx That is a crude way to phrase it, but I will. And what equals 3? ⤷ you hearted this message

you put your phone away, grinning. then you pull it from your pocket again, and change the contact name.

health inspector.

you're supposed to be hanging out with your friend, but they're currently hovering over your shoulder. still counts as a hangout, right?

"who are you texting?" they ask, squinting at your screen. "you've been smiling at your phone for, like, ten minutes straight."

"just my number neighbor," you say, tilting the screen away. you really need to buy a privacy screen protector.. "he's super intense. like, 'i eat for digestion' intense. well, im think they're a he."

"is he hot?"

"wha- i don't even know his name! we agreed – well, we didn't agree, but we haven't asked. it's more fun this way. no expectations."

your phone pings again, and your friend groans.

health inspector My teammate took my phone and saw your contact name. you oh no what did you set it as health inspector Number Neighbor. you BRO THATS BORING i have you set as health inspector hah health inspector I don't inspect health. Anyway, he changed your name to 'Eagle Bait'. I don't know why. you eagle bait 💔 tell your friend he'd better start running health inspector He is very fast. I doubt you could catch him. you bruh i hate u health inspector Well, I don't hate you. I don't know you well enough to harbor such strong emotions.

you groan and bury your face in your hands. he's so frustratingly literal that it's actually.. cute?

you find yourself wondering what his voice sounds like. does he talk as formally as he texts?

you hey neighbor? health inspector Yes? you nothing just making sure u were still there health inspector I am always here.

wednesday arrives with a heavy rainstorm that swiftly cancels your outdoor plans.

with nothing else to do, you're lounging on your couch, watching a movie you've already seen (and cried to) three times, when your phone lights up.

it's a photo – a blurry, shaky shot of a red haired guy making a peace sign right in front of the camera lens. he has a wild grin on his face, eyes wide and mouth leering.

health inspector My teammate took my phone again. He says hello, and that he doesn't care if you see what he looks like. His name is Tendou. you lol hi tendou tell him he has very chaotic energy even through a blurry photo 🥹 health inspector He says that it's his specialty. you i can imagine health inspector He's currently trying to read our previous messages over my shoulder. I've placed him in a headlock to prevent this.

you choke on your microwaved, triple butter popcorn. the mental image of someone putting a hyperactive redhead in a headlock is a bit too much for you.

you damn rip tendou health inspector Oh don't worry. He isn't dead you i cant with you 😭 you actually have friends? i thought you were a robot /j health inspector I'm not a robot. Tendou is my friend, although he is loud sometimes. you sometimes or all of the time? health inspector Both He's asking if you are cute. I told him I don't know. you well what did you tell him after that health inspector I told him that physical appearance is subjective and that based on your texting, you seem pretty you aw thanks 🥺 health inspector capable of basic communication. Sorry, I accidently pressed send. you wow i knew something was off you didnt use a full stop 😔 capable of basic communication.. i should put that on my tinder bio! health inspector Oh. Do you use Tinder? you no lol i was joking do you? health inspector No. I don't have time. you you sounds like you never have fun. do you ever just eat junk food watch a bad movie etc health inspector I eat what is necessary for my muscles. you okay mr buff guy 🫩 health inspector How did you know I was male? you magic ABRACADABRA health inspector Okay. Occasionally, I have hayashi rice. That is enjoyable. you hayashi rice is your wild side? health inspector Yes. you jeez we need to get you out more ⤷ health inspector reacted ? to this message

the next time you get a text from Health Inspector™, you're at the shopping centre with your friends.

it's unusual because he usually only texts in the evenings after his apparently strict schedule is done.

health inspector We won. you oh a volleyball thing? congratsss (congratakaashilations) health inspector Yes. It was a practice match, but we won in straight sets. I scored 19 points. you 19 oh wow is that good? idk much about volleyball health inspector It's a high number for a three set match. My setter was very efficient today. you go celebrate! get some uh hayashi rice or something health inspector We're going to a convenience store. Tendou is buying icy poles. The blue double ones. echo reference?? you what flavor are u getting? health inspector I don't like sweets very much. I'll have water. you you're literally the most boring person ive ever met 😑 health inspector But we haven't met you oh COME ON get a chocolate bar live a little ⤷ seen by health inspector

when he doesn't reply, you go back to window shopping because you're broke asf with your friends.

five minutes later, a picture comes through, a large, slightly calloused hand holding a small chocolate bar. in the corner, it has a small nibble in the corner, as though someone has taken a tentative bite.

health inspector I bought it. It's too sweet. you CRYING i can literally feel the regret through the screen 💔💔 health inspector My teammates are staring at me. They think I'm possessed because I'm eating chocolate. you tell them your neighbor made you do it trust 😏 health inspector Okay Tendou is now screaming that I have a secret lover.

your heart does a weird little skip at the word lover, even though it's just a joke.. right?

you tell tendou i said hi and that hes a visionary health inspector I will tell him hi, but I won't tell him the other part. It will only encourage him. ⤷ you liked this message

you hey health inspector Yes? you we've been talking for a while now i still dont know your name or what you look like or how old you are health inspector I am 18. you okay one mystery solved im 17 health inspector Haha. 😂 I'm older than you you please never laugh over text again. what about a name health inspector I would prefer not to. If we find out who each other are, things might change. I like that you don't know who I am.

you pause, thumbs hovering over the screen.

he sounds like people usually treat him differently because of who he is.

orrrr maybe you're overthinking things again.

you fair enough i kind of like it too you can just be my health inspector health inspector And you can be my Eagle Bait. you NOT EAGLE BAIT AGAIN health inspector It's what's written on my screen, I've grown used to it. Also, I've said multiple times I'm not a health inspector. you touché health inspector I'm going to sleep now. Goodnight, Eagle Bait. Oh, that almost rhymes you night hi get it hi health inspector h.i hello oh youre gone GRANDPA delivered

it's a monday morning, so of course you're dragging yourself through the school hallways, clutching a coffee like it's the only thing keeping you sane.

your school is buzzing because the volleyball team has just won something huge, but you aren't really one for sports. you literally know nothing about the volleyball team - you just know their gym is always squeaky and smells like sweaty feet.

your phone buzzes in your pocket.

health inspector I am tired. you omg what happened to consistent schedules for recovery?? health inspector Our coach was dissatisfied with our blocking. We had to stay late. I didn't get to bed until 11:30pm yesterday. you uh 11:30 is a normal bedtime for most people yk also why did you have practice on a sunday.. health inspector Not for me My legs feel heavy. ⤷ replied to also why did you have practice on a sunday.. My coach says otherwise we will forget how to play. you thats stupid do you want me to send you a virtual hug

there's a long pause, and you watch the three bubbles appear and disappear.

health inspector I don't know what a virtual hug is. Is it a digital sticker? Do you want to call me? you LMFAO no it's just me saying i feel bad for you health inspector Oh you but here (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ health inspector That is a strange collection of symbols. It looks like a person with very long arms. you thats because it is a person with very long arms 😭 health inspector I showed Tendou. Now he's trying to recreate the face. It's unsettling.

you burst into giggles, earning a sharp look from your teacher and bemused looks from your classmates.

"sorry," you murmur to no one in particular.

after school, your friend drags you to the gym, against your will.

"just for a bit," she pleads. "my brother is playing, and i promised i'd bring him his knee pads. the fat lump forgot them."

you groan but follow her.

you stand by the entrance, on your phone, completely disinterested in the teenagers jumping around.

you im stuck in a gym well, not in the gym, but close enough the squeaking is giving me a headache health inspector I'm also in a gym. The squeaking is the sound of effort. you yeah no. it smells like stinky socks in here health inspector That is a valid description. you SEE health inspector My setter just messed up. He's angry now. I should go.

you look up from your phone, scanning the court in front of you, but none of them seem to be checking their phones.

"ready?" your friend asks, returning from where she's just thrown the kneepads at her brother.

"yeah, let's go. this place is too loud," you say. she laughs. "and stinks."

as you turn to leave, a volleyball rockets off the court and bounces toward the door. you stop it with your foot.

"sorry," a deep voice calls out.

a tall guy with dark hair and a bit of a scowl starts jogging toward you. he looks intimidating, but his eyes are focused entirely on the ball.

you kick it back to him. he nods once - not a smile but rather a blunt acknowledgement of your existence - and heads back to his team.

you don't think twice about it.

you heyy neighbor guess what i ate today health inspector If it's not a balanced meal, I don't want to know. you it was an oreo with ham on it health inspector Why would you put meat on a sweet? you because it tastes good why else you should try it health inspector I refuse. you suit yourself health inspector I have a question. you shoot health inspector Why do you continue to talk to me? Most people find me difficult to converse with.

you lean back against your headboard, brow furrowing as you type your response.

you because you arent fake everyone else tries so hard to be cool or funny you just tell me about your diet and your early ass bedtime it's refreshing health inspector Huh. you plus you bought that chocolate bar because i told you to that was nice :) health inspector It was very sweet. I still have half of it in my locker. you HELP WHAT are you saving it 😭 health inspector I didn't want to waste it. you has anyone told you you're such a dork health inspector I am told that often by Tendou. you of course ⤷ health inspector liked this message you so since you wont tell me your name can i give you a nickname health inspector is getting old health inspector What did you have in mind? you toshi

you don't know why you picked it - it just popped into your head.

somewhere, a tall boy with dark, olive green hair freezes. his heart thumps against his ribs.

toshi.

only his family and his closest friends call him that. it's a fragment of his actual name.

health inspector Why that name? you idk it just suits you health inspector .... you it's fine if not i know that was random health inspector Fine. You may use it. you YES

( you have changed health inspector to toshi )

you okay toshi go do your squats or whatever it is you do toshi I will. Goodbye Eagle Bait you bruh i dont get a new name 😔?? ⤷ seen by toshi kys toshi Okay I will keep myself safe ⤷ you disliked this message

tonight, your screen stays dark.

you find yourself checking your phone every ten minutes, which is annoying. you aren't supposed to care this much about a guy who thinks salt is a bold seasoning. like, seriously!

finally, a message arrives, and it isn't a 'goodnight'.

toshi I'm at a team dinner. Tendou is standing on a chair. you of course it wouldnt be tendou if he wasnt toshi He's singing a song about chocolate bars and secret neighbors. I believe he is trying to provoke me into showing him our messages again. you and did you toshi No. I told him that privacy is a human right. He told me I'm whipped

your face heats up.

you whipped? 😭 pleasee you barely like me you just like having someone to tell about your digestion and shit toshi That is inaccurate. I quite look forward to our conversations you wow i think thats actually the nicest thing youve said toshi It's the truth. People usually only talk to me about volleyball. Or they are intimidated and don't talk at all. you damn toshi You just call me a dork. you because you ARE a dork toshi but a cool one in an i follow all the rules kind of way toshi That is nice to hear. ⤷ you liked this message

saturday morning, you're at a local cafe. you snap a photo of your overly complicated iced latte - the kind with a mountain of whipped cream.

you [attachment] look at this it's the complete opposite of your water bottle 😝 toshi That looks like a heart attack desguised as a drink. you it's delicious! i wish i could send you a sip toshi I'd decline you aw man hey if i sent you something would you eat it? toshi I don't give out my address to strangers, number neighbours or not. you no shit that would be dumb 😑 i meant like ill leave it somewhere toshi That seems unnecessary. you fine have it your way ⤷ seen by toshi

you put your phone down with more force than necessary, a little irritated. you weren't actually going to stalk him or anything, but his immediate rejection wasn't exactly a nice feeling.

you go back to your book, feeling a bit silly.

around an hour later, your phone buzzes.

toshi I'm at the park near Miyagi Prefectural Library. There's a large oak tree by the fountain.

your heart skips.

that's- not far from where you are now.

you ..and? toshi I'm leaving practice now. I'll be passing that tree in twenty minutes. If you were to leave something there, I might find it.

you're already shoving your book into your bag.

you run to the bakery next door, grab a single, high quality dark chocolate brownie (less sugar, more toshi friendly), and sprint toward the park as fast as you can.

the oak tree is huge and gnarled. you tuck the small white bakery box into a crook in the roots, hidden behind some leaves, then run again.

you hide behind a nearby gazebo, peeking through the slats.

not long after, a tall figure walks down the path.

he's wearing a tracksuit - white and purple. broad shoulders, long legs, and a walk that screams 'i own this sidewalk'. from where you're crouching, you can see he has dark, olive toned hair.

it doesn't occur to you that this is the same guy from the gym..

he looks serious, his eyes scanning the ground.

he stops at the tree, looks around, making sure no one is watching, and reaches into the roots to pulls out the white box.

he opens it.

he stares at the brownie for a long time. then, he looks around again, a tiny, almost invisible soften to his expression.

he tucks the box into his gym bag and walks away.

your phone vibrates.

toshi I found it. you it's a brownie! try it before you judge it toshi I'll eat it when I get home. Thank you. ⤷ you liked this message toshi You were there Weren't you? you guilty ⤷ seen by toshi

great.

he's much more intimidating in person than he is in a text message.

toshi It was acceptable you acceptable?? thats it? toshi It was the best thing I've eaten that wasn't healthy. you HA I KNEW IT toshi Perhaps. My mother asked who gave it to me. I told her it was a neighbor, and she seemed confused as to why our elderly neighbor, Mr. Sato, would give me a brownie. you LMAAOAOO 😭💔 did you tell her the truth? toshi No. I find I like having this to myself.

you bite your lip, a slow blush creeping up your neck.

you me too toshi me too ⤷ seen by toshi

—

toshi I'm at the doctor. you shit what happened?? are you okay? did the brownie take you out? fuck im sorry are you allergic i shouldve checked oh my gosh toshi No. The brownie was fine. you oh toshi My ankle is slightly inflamed. It's a common occurrence. you does it hurt? toshi Not really. I have been instructed to ice it and refrain from jumping for 48 hours. you oh noo forty eight hours of no jumping how will you survive? 🥹 you can go relax and sit on a couch toshi I don't like sitting on a couch. It makes me feel stagnant. you you are SO dramatic just watch a movie or something toshi I am watching a video of our last match to analyse my footwork. you NO that doesnt count watch something that doesnt involve a ball toshi Suggest something.

you spend the next ten minutes arguing over movies. he shoots down every romantic comedy you suggest (highly unrealistic human behaviour) and every horror movie (i dont find jumpscares logical).

finally, he decides on a documentary about deep sea creatures.

toshi The giant squid is impressive. you awh do you relate to a squid toshi Yes ⤷ you reacted 😑 to this message

you're walking through the school courtyard during lunch when you see a group of girls whispering and giggling over a phone.

"he's so stoic," one of them sighs. "i wonder if he ever smiles."

curiosity kills the cat, so you peek over.

they're looking at an instagram post from a local sports magazine. it's a photo of a volleyball player mid air.

the caption reads: Shiratorizawa's Ace continues his dominant streak.

your heart stops.

the jersey is white and purple.

just like the tracksuit the guy in the park was wearing.

aka. your number neighbour.

aka, toshi.

you can't see his face clearly, but the build is unmistakable. the thick legs, the broad shoulders, the hair.

then it occurs to you - it's the same guy in the gym from so long ago. you just didn't recognise him without the tracksuit.

you scramble for your phone.

you hey quick question toshi What is the question? you do you go to shiratorizawa?

the 'typing...' bubble appears, and stays there for a long, long time.

you're holding your breath. if he says yes, the mystery is basically over. you could find him in ten minutes.

toshi Why do you ask? you i saw a photo of a player he looked like the guy i saw in the park

another long pause.

toshi I have told you before. If we know too much, this changes. you i know but toshi Are you disappointed? you what?? no why would i be disappointed? toshi Because I'm not telling you who I am you toshi ive been talking to you for a while i know you think water is a treat and you relate to squids you can't disappoint me toshi I see. Then I won't confirm or deny. But I will tell you this: My ankle is feeling better because I'm distracted by this conversation. And you.

your face turns five shades of red, and you have to put your phone face down on a concrete bench to cool off.

you're back in the gym, this time because you left your sweater on the bleachers after gym class. you'd hoped you could wear it somehow, but the gym teacher had promptly sent you away.

you spot a familiar head of bright red hair.

it's..

wait.

tendou?

he's leaning against the net, looking bored while who you guess is the coach talks to someone else.

suddenly, tendou spots you walking toward the bleachers. he narrows his eyes, then a huge, mischievous grin spreads across his face.

he points at you and then turns to the giant guy standing next to him.

the guy turns his head.

you freeze.

you're wearing your school uniform.

you look normal.

but you feel like you have 'NEIGHBOUR' written on your forehead in black sharpie.

the guy looks at you.

he doesn't wave or smile. he just stares for a second too long before the coach barks an order and he turns back to the court.

you grab your sweater and bolt.

once you're safely in the outside, your phone vibrates.

toshi You were in the gym. you i was not toshi Tendou said, "There's the girl who smells like brownies." you i do NOT smell like brownies AND HOW COULD HE EVEN SMELL THAT toshi You didn't say hello. you because you were BUSY and INTIMIDATING and we have a DEAL no names no faces ⤷ replied to no faces we've broken that toshi I'm not intimidating. I was just standing there you toshi you are a 6 foot something mountain of muscle you are the definition of intimidating toshi 6'2 I didn't think you would be afraid of me. you im not afraid im uhm preserving the mystery toshi I think you were running away. you no i was walking fast toshi Tendou is laughing. He says you looked like a startled rabbit. you tell tendou im gonna put salt in his next chocolate bar. toshi I will relay the message. He says he likes salt in his chocolate bar. you for fucks sake toshi And for the record.. That sweater would look nice on you. It's a good colour.

you groan and trip over your own feet.

"fuck-!"

you can't stop thinking about what he said.

about the sweater.

because it means he was actually looking.

toshi I have a question about the long armed person face you (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ this one? what about it toshi If it's a hug, does that mean you are a physical person? you you're gonna have to give me more info than that toshiTendou says some people show affection through touch, while others show it through acts of service. you tendou is getting deep and idk! maybe? i think im a bit of both what about you? toshi I give them my full attention. If I'm talking to you, it's because I believe you're worth my time. I don't engage in idle chatter with people I don't respect.

it's so blunt – there's no 'i think you're cute' or 'i like talking to you'.

just the fact that because he's texting you, you're officially worth it.

you wait thats actually really sweet does that mean i have your respect sir 🫡 toshi You have had it for a very long time now. ⤷ you reacted 🥺 to this message

it was his texts like this that had you speechless.

you just.. didn't know how to reply.

it's the night before a big game for him.

you know this because he's been texting less, which usually means he's, quote, 'in the zone'.

you big day tomorrow? toshi Yes. We're playing a team with very persistent defense. It'll be tiring you you got this! just think of the giant squid or smt toshi I will. Will you be there? you i dunno wouldnt that break the rules toshi What rules? The gym is a public space. I cannot stop you from entering. you yeah it'd be weird if you could toshi Besides, Tendou keeps looking for 'the brownie girl' in the stands. It would be easier if I knew where you were so I could tell him to focus on the match. you oh so u want me there for team productivity toshi Precisely you ill consider it ⤷ toshi liked this message

the stadium is packed – you've never seen so many people there for a high school game.

you're wearing a simple hoodie, your hood pulled up slightly, feeling like a spy. (cue spy music!) you find a seat way up, far enough that you're just a speck in the crowd.

the whistle blows, and the teams walk onto the court.

and there he is.

number one.

he seems.. different on the court. at the park, he was just a tall, imtimidating guy. here, he's still intimidating, but he's also a force of nature.

when he scores, he doesn't celebrate much. he just resets, expression completely blank, eyes fixed on the ball.

in one word, he's magnificent.

during a timeout, you see him take a drink from his water bottle. his eyes scan the crowd.

they move slowly, methodically, starting from the front row and working their way up.

your breath hitches. you know he can't see you – there are thousands of people here. you turn your gaze away, looking somewhere else.

your phone vibrates.

toshi You're here. I can feel it.

you nearly drop your phone in absolute shock.

you how?? you're literally in the middle of a game PUT YOUR PHONE AWAY toshi My manager is holding it. I asked her to check for a message during the break. My coach isn't very happy but I don't care. you I CARE YOUR COACH IS SCARY ASF whats his name again washing board toshi Washijo You're in the upper area. To the left of the scoreboard.

yes in this shiratorizawa has a manager idc

you are exactly where he said.

you you are a freak. FOCUS ON THE GAME toshi I am focused. Watching you watch me is not a distraction.

the whistle blows again.

you watch him hand the phone to the manager and walk back onto the court.

he looks up directly toward your section and gives a single, sharp nod.

then proceeds to absolutely demolish the other team.

you slip out before they officially announce the winner, not wanting to get caught in the crowd – or by a certain redhead.

you're halfway home when the text comes through.

toshi We won. you i saw! you were incredible toshi seriously toshi Thank you. I'm tired now. My muscles are aching you do you want another long armed person hug? toshi No.

ouch.

toshi I think, next time, I would like a real one.

you stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk, nearly walking into a mailbox, your face burning.

a real one.

the man who finds unnecessary fluff unnecessary – just asked for a real hug.

or at least, he admitted he wanted one.

you a real one? who are you and what have you done with the robot? toshi I'm the same. I'm just tired. Fatigue makes people more honest. you well go to sleep then mr honest toshi But it's still early. And I'm not home yet. you i dont care ⤷ seen by toshi

—

toshi Tendou is asking why I'm smiling at my phone. you youre SMILING?? toshi It's not a large smile My mouth is simply less straight than usual. you mmm sure ill take it so whats got u smilin toshi I was thinking about the way you ran away in the gym. you ?? I TOLD YOU I WAS WALKING FAST besides youre scary in person you have main character energy toshi I don't know what that means. It's my job to be reliable. And intimidating if necessary. you youre very reliable at making me nervous :/ toshi Why are you nervous? 🤔🤔 you BECAUSE we've been talking for months and i still dont know your real name i could find out rn but im respecting your privacy be grateful 😤 toshi I am grateful. ⤷ you liked this message toshi If I tell you my name, will you tell me yours? you maybe toshi Then not yet. I want to see how long we can last like this. It's like a game. you youre so competitive 💔 istg is everything a game to you toshi Only the things that matter.

you're in your room, folding your laundry and humming a song that has been fixated in your head lately. you really need to stop doomscrolling on tiktok. no, seriously ik damn well get off

your phone is on your bed.

not so wise decision.

you reach for a sock, stumble, and your palm lands flat on the screen.

and you had only been texting a specific someone moments earlier, so the screen is still on.

the phone starts ringing.

calling.. toshi

"no, no, no!" you scramble, fingers fumbling to hang up, but your phone is glitching. great – out of all times. it freezes on the calling screen.

he picks up.

on the other end, there's silence. you hold the phone to your ear, too nervous to breathe. you're too terrified to speak.

"hello?"

his voice. it's so much deeper than you imagined.

"eagle bait?" he asks.

"hi," you whisper. your voice sounds tiny compared to his.

"you called me," he states.

"..it was an accident. i was.. folding laundry."

"i see."

there's a pause. you can hear faint chatter in the background – he's probably in the locker room.

"you sound.. like i expected."

"and how is that?"

"kind. and a bit terrified right now."

you let out a shaky laugh. "me? never."

"i have to go to practice," he says ever so softly. "but.. i liked hearing your voice."

you smile into the phone. "i liked hearing yours too.. toshi."

"i will text you tonight." before you can utter a goodbye, he hangs up.

you collapse onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

now you aren't just texting a number anymore.

you're talking to a living, breathing person.

a person with a voice that makes your toes curl.

you're walking past the gym again – actually, lets be honest. you're taking the long way home just to catch a glimpse.

the gym doors fly open.

"BROWNIE GIRL!"

tendou is sprinting toward you, waving his arms like a windmill. behind him, he is walking out at a normal pace, looking slightly exasperated.

you freeze. you can't run this time; tendou is too fast.

"it's you! i knew it!" tendou skids to a stop in front of you, leaning down to look you square in the face. "ushijima is always staring at his screen with this look like he's trying to solve a very intense math problem, but the math problem is love!"

"satori," ushijima booms. he catches up, stepping between you and the redhead. "leave her alone. you're being intrusive."

toshi looks down at you.

"are you okay?" he asks, a genuine look of concern on his face.

"yeah," you squeak. "im fine. just.. laundry. i mean, walking home."

tendou snickers. "laundry.." he scoffs under his breath.

the other man looks at you for a long moment. you notice his eyes are a dark olive, like his hair.

"you're wearing the sweater."

"it's my favorite," you admit, fiddling with a loose thread.

he nods, a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. "it suits you. as i said before."

"WAKATOSHI-KUN!" tendou screams. "you're doing it! you're flirting! my eyes! they've never seen such a thing! actually.. she's shown me before.." echo reference??

toshi ignores him entirely. "ill text you later. i have to take satori away before he causes a scene."

"too late for that," you joke. "i've got to go as well."

he actually huffs a small laugh. it's a sound that blesses your ears.

"you're right. goodbye.. eagle bait."

"bye, toshi."

you walk away, feeling his gaze on your back until you turn the corner.

tendou turns to ushijima, grinning. "eagle bait? still?"

"she doesn't mind it. i think."

"you think-"

when you reach the front door, your heart is still trying to beat out of your chest through your throat.

you keep replaying it – the way he looked down at you, the way his voice dropped when he noticed your sweater, and, most importantly, the fact that he laughed.

your phone vibrates again before you even get the chance to take your shoes off.

toshi I apologise for Tendou, he has no sense of personal boundaries. you lol it's fine hes funny :) toshi He's a nuisance sometimes. But.. he wasn't entirely wrong.

you stop mid step, one shoe on, one shoe off.

you about toshi About the way I look at my phone.

friday evening, you're trying to study when a text comes through that isn't a text at all. it's a link to a destination on google maps.

toshi I'm going to a park tomorrow. Not the one with the oak tree. This one is further away, near the river. you okay? are you going to look for squids 😭 toshi No. I'm going for a run.

oh.

oh.

if hes asking u to run w him we cooked asf

toshi I'll be finished at 10am, and there's a bench near the bridge. you waiiit are you asking me to meet you like for real without any distractions or people around toshi I would like to see if you are the same in person as you are over text without Tendou present, if that's what you mean. you wow. rude justice for tendou ill be there toshi Nice 👍 ⤷ you reacted 🥹 to this message toshi ? you nothing toshi Also, I brought a brownie the other day. you you WHAT toshi Yes. It was good, but not as good as the one you brought me. you thats because i sprinkled it with some neighbourly love otw! toshi Oh is that a seasoning? I'll have to try it out you oh gosh ⤷ toshi reacted ? to this message

you arrive at exactly 9:55am. you're wearing a fresh outfit, your hair is actually done, and you've checked your breath, like, five times.

more like fifty.

the park is quiet, the morning mist still clinging to the river. you see a figure running toward the bridge.

he's wearing a black compression shirt and shorts. he slows to a jog, then a walk, as he nears the bench. drenched in sweat, his skin glows in the morning light. he looks like a perfect sculpture come to life.

ushijima stops in front of you, breathing hard. "you came," he says. his voice is a little raspy from the run.

"i said i would," you say, trying to sound cool. you fail miserably. "uhh, nice running?"

toshi wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. "thank you."

a beat, and you stare at eachother awkwardly.

"i realised something," he says, stepping a bit closer.

"what?"

"i don't know your name."

you smile, reaching out and gently poking his arm. damn, his muscles are like rock- "it's l/n. y/n."

he repeats it, testing the weight of the syllables in his mouth. "y/n. it is a good name. better than eagle bait."

you let out an unflattering snort. "i think everything is better than eagle bait."

toshi sits down on the bench, gesturing for you to join him. you sit, and for a while, you both just watch the river flow.

he reaches into his gym bag and pulls out a small, crumpled paper bag. he hands it to you.

inside is a single, slightly squashed chocolate bar. the same one you told him to buy weeks ago.

"i bought it this morning," he says, looking at his feet. "i thought.. maybe we could share it."

you feel a lump rise in your throat.

breaking the bar in half, you hand him the bigger piece. he promptly nudges it back to you and takes the smaller piece.

"to living a little," you say.

"to being neighbors," he replies.

the chocolate is slightly warm and has a papery taste to it, but it's easily one of the best thing you've ever tasted.

you sit on that bench for an hour. you talk about things that aren't volleyball, like how he likes the smell of old books and how you're terrified shitless of spiders.

"i am not afraid of spiders," ushijima says, looking at the remainder of his chocolate. "they're helpful. they eat mosquitoes."

"spoken like a true fearless soldier," you laugh. "but if one crawls on me, i'm using you as a human shield."

he glances at you, expression softening into a lopsided half smile. "i'm a very large shield. you'll be safe."

the.. peace lasts exactly forty eight hours.

by monday lunch, the school is buzzing (gossiping). apparently, someone (tendou) saw (spied) a mystery girl (you) sitting with the ace (ushijima) at the river.

you're trying to blend into the cafeteria wall when a shadow falls over your table. you look up, and it's not toshi.

it's guy with a black bowl cut and a guy with light brown hair, in a slightly more lopsided bowl cut.

"is it you?" the first one asks, pointing a finger at you like he's accusing you of a crime. "are you the one who made ushijima-san eat a brownie?"

"i.. maybe?"

"he hasn't stopped looking at his phone during stretches," the other one says, sounding personally offended.

before you can defend yourself, a hand lands on their heads and pushes them aside.

it's.. toshi!

he looks down at his apparently teammates with a look that would wither a cactus.

"go away," he states. "you are bothering her."

"we just wanted to see if she was real!" black bowl cut squeaks. "tendou-san said she was a forest spirit that lived in an oak tree!"

"uh. clearly im not a forest spirit," you say, finally finding your voice. "im a student."

toshi looks at you, then back at his teammates. "she is y/n."

light hair shrugs. "'kay. cmon goshiki."

they leave, albeit reluctantly.

"i'm going to practice. do you want to walk with me to the gym doors?"

you feel a hundred eyes on you, and you step forward, legs a little shaky.

"sure, toshi. let's go."

toshi Tendou has been banned from my phone. I've changed the passcode. you nah what was it before 😭 0000 toshi No It was 1111 you ..youre so predictable toshi I was joking Predictability is a sign of stability you in what world 🥹 toshi Anyway I have Friday evening free. My coach is attending a conference you are you asking me on a date perchance toshi I am proposing an evening with you. I'd like to go to the cinema. you oh? no documentaries about squids toshi There's a film about a man who survives in the wilderness. It seems logical. you okay it's a date but i get to pick the popcorn seasoning‼️ toshi Yes 👍 But no bacon flavour please. you DO THEY MAKE THAT toshi ... No. you ohhh they do dont they 😼 ⤷ toshi disliked this message

the cinema is oh so very dark and smells of buttered popcorn. you're sitting next to him, and even though you aren't touching, you can feel the heat radiating off him.

he's sitting perfectly upright, staring at the screen.

halfway through the movie, the main character gets lost in a blizzard. ironically, you shiver – the theater is a little cold.

without a word, toshi shifts. he doesn't put his arm around you – that would be too smooth for him. instead, he reaches over, takes your hand, and simply places it on his thigh, covering it with his own massive, warm hand.

"you're cold," he whispers. "this will help."

you bite your lip to keep from giggling. he is such an awkward romantic, and you love it.

you squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back. his hand is rough with callouses from thousands of spikes, yet it's incredibly gentle.

you spend the rest of the movie not watching the screen at all, just focusing on the feeling of his thumb tracing small, absent minded circles on the back of your hand.

when the lights come up and the movie ends, he doesn't let go immediately. he looks at you, eyes thoughtful.

"the movie was.. acceptable," he says.

"was it better than the brownie?" you tease, grinning.

"no. but it is unfair to compare food and entertainment." he says, leaning in. "the company was better than the movie."

you think he might kiss you right there in the cinema, but then his phone buzzes.

yay. cockblocker

( 38 notifications from tendou )

tendou HOW WAS THE MOVIE DID U HOLD HANDS I CAN FEEL THE ROMANCE FROM MY DOOM SOOM ROON ROOM TELL ME EVEYYITMG EVERYTING EVERYTGING ECERTITN fucj EVERYTHING USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI USHIWAKA U S H I J I M A W A K A T O S H I ANSWER MEEEEEEEE ew are u making out OR WORSE.. DOING THE NAUGHTY ‼️‼️ ewwwwwwwww that's naaasty wear protection kids 😏

toshi sighs, deep and weary. "i'm going to change my phone number."

"don't you dare," you laugh, standing up and pulling him toward the exit. "i like my number neighbor right where he is."

it turns out that when the most stoic, volleyball obsessed boy in shiratorizawa starts walking someone to class, people notice. i know! absolute shocker.

you're standing by the school lockers in the morning when you see him. he's, well, hard to miss – he towers over the crowd like a giant.

a group of first year girls is hovering near him, one of them holding a pink envelope.

ah.

"ushijima-senpai!" she chirps, her face bright red. "ive watched all your games! please, take this!"

you pause, feeling a weird, cold prickle in your chest. you've never been the jealous type, but seeing a literal fan club form around your.. you don't know what he is, but! it feels different.

ushijima doesn't take the envelope. he doesn't even look at it LMAO. he's looking over their heads, his eyes scanning the hallway until they land on you.

"i cannot take that," he says to the girl, his voice loud and clear. "it would be an inefficient use of my time, and i am already spoken for."

the hallway goes dead silent. the girl's jaw drops, and her friends giggle awkwardly.

toshi walks straight past them and stops in front of you.

"you're late," he says.

"sorry, captain," you answer, hiding a grin. "i didn't want to interrupt your, erm, fan meeting."

"it was not a meeting. it was disturbance. let us go."

and so the two of you walk off together, leaving the girl and her friends behind, her still clutching the envelope pathetically.

your phone pings during your afternoon break. it's a notification from instagram – you've been tagged in a post.

it's a photo someone took of you and ushijima at the cinema. the two of you walking out, hands briefly brushing.

and.. the comments are a war zone.

@.user1 who is she she looks so plain @.user2 does he even like her? he looks bored asf @.user3 ushijima kun deserves someone more athletic! ↳ @.tendersatoes definitely not you then 😂😂

a lump rises in your throat. you know you shouldn't care what strangers think, but it still hurts.

although tendou's comment does make you crack a smile. seriously, tendersatoes??

you're about to close the app when a new comment loads.

@.Ushijima_Wakatoshi Her name is Y/n. She is not plain, she is observant. And I'm not bored. I'm focused. If you have time to comment on my personal life, you have time to practice on whatever you need to do. You're lacking in discipline. @.Ushijima_Wakatoshi Fuckers. ↳ @.tendersatoes pop off ushiwaka 🤪 CLOCKED BITCHES ↳ @.user2 whatever

you stare at the screen.

toshi just commented a whole paragraph for you.

and on top of that – fuckers.

you toshi did u just flame your uh FANS in the comments toshi I didn't flame them. I provided an objective assessment of their behavior and their priorities. you yeah.. you basically told them to go touch grass toshi Grass is good for them. Are you upset? I can delete the comment, but I think many people have seen it already. you no actually i'm really happy but pls dont get suspended for me toshi If it means I have more time to spend with you, then I welcome it. you TOSHI 🥹🥹 ⤷ toshi liked this message

since the gym is being renovated for two days, ushijima actually has an afternoon off.

you invite him over to your house to study, which mostly consists of you trying to talk about work while he stares at your bookshelves.

"why do you have so many books about people who don't exist?" he asks, picking up one of your romance novels.

"because fiction is fun, toshi! it's about feelings and drama and shit."

he puts it down, then reaches for another one.

you gasp, jumping on his back. "not that one-!"

"drama is just a lack of communication," he says, sitting down on your rug. he's so big that your room suddenly feels half its size.

you sit next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. he freezes for a second before he slowly relaxes, resting his head on top of yours.

"i like your house," he says softly. "it smells like you."

you laugh, the sound muffled against his arm.

ushijima suddenly shifts, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. he opens up your contact info.

"i have changed your name again," he says.

you look at the screen.

it doesn't say 'eagle bait' anymore.

it just says,

y/n ❤️

"the red heart means affection," he says, his face turning a very unnatural shade of pink. "tendou told me it was mandatory for this stage of a relationship."

"for once," you whisper, leaning up to kiss his cheek, "i think tendou is right."

but ushijima turns his head at the last second, catching your lips with his.

"i agree," he says matter of factly once you pull away, then lifts your chin to kiss you again.

called both of my number neighbours once on a dare, one sent me to voicemail and the other was a woman with a child crying in the background. and i was reading the manga the other day and ml ushijima does not talk like a robot all the time 😭 bro fanon ushijima is scary.

genuinely really proud of myself for this one tysm for reading (new top 3 fav unlocked ?!)

tumblr, please allow more than 30 images. thank you.

also ! im making this a number neighbour collection/series so lmk through my inbox if reqs are open if u want any other characters with a specific plot, and smau or chatfic :D (if a character's already been done, i won't do it again. at time of this post ive got akaashi, ushijima, oikawa and suna)

taglist ( to be added OR removed, fill out the tag form ) @n-o-b-o-d-y123 @owl-captain-of-fukurodani @tc-selmarillian @blythmourning @sevslover @fosfatodna @tearsoftae @heavenquilll @perlleta @noemivalorr @bookworm-center @thesmithslvr17 @lottiekarottiqd @fweakygyatt @wellitseugi @haniipie @charukii @imgonnashartmyself @toorubae @kotarosangel @leosxrealm @irethepotato @lithiumval @dreamayy @wanderless-musings @sunnyl1ght

9am lectures always carry a sense of death to them. Something about waking up before the sun’s risen kills a person’s soul and leads them down quiet corridors with dark shadows under their eyes, life saving coffee cups in their hands.

Most students don’t like 9am lectures. Most students want to sleep in. You’re no exception. 

Drained as you are though, there is a restlessness in you. A thing that itches to move its legs, to stretch, to run up and down the hallway screaming. Perhaps a ball of tension looking for release, perhaps some unresolved trauma from childhood, or maybe, much less interestingly, you’re just bored. 

Boredom is a human experience. 

It is a painful experience. 

One that could be likened to pushing a boulder up a hill or walking in a field for eternity. It is an experience shared by all, an experience as natural as breathing. It is an experience you’ve never felt in a lecture before. Because, yes you are one of those people that others look at weirdly when you excitedly riff with other students or with the professor, who's done the further readings, who always has something to add, who leaves the hall buzzing. One of those people that can’t have friends in the course because you’re considered too much at any hour of the day.

Today, however, people seem to tolerate you just fine; someone to your right even asked how your weekend was and what your plans for the week are!

You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad change.

Professor Aldmahn continues, “In this sense, Tiresias is exceptional. He alone retains the ability to speak coherently and offer guidance. The other shades, in comparison, lack agency. They require blood to speak, and even then, what they offer is fragmented. Tiresias stands apart as a stable source of knowledge.”

If the professor’s deterred by the soulless faces that stare back at him, he doesn’t show it. 

There’s a small shift to your left.

A few heads turn.

You don’t look.

“But that stability is questionable,” he says, calm as ever, voice carrying without effort. “Tiresias doesn’t provide a full account. He gives Odysseus what he needs to return home, nothing more. I think his wisdom is overstated.”

Professor Aldmahn tilts his head slightly. “Interesting. So you argue Tiresias’ usefulness is exaggerated? Is that a limitation imposed by the narrative, or by Tiresias himself?”

“Both, I believe,” he replies. “The information is selective. It’s shaped by what the poem needs Odysseus to know at that point.”

“And what do you think?” Professor Aldmahn’s voice redirects. His gaze settles on you. “You’ve been quiet today.”

A beat.

The room shifts with it.

You feel it. The familiar shape of an argument forming, precise and sharp. You could dismantle that. You know you could. It’s too neat, too contained. There’s a gap there, something unaddressed, something—

Your pen lowers to the page.

Some people sigh, as though aware that another miserable thing is going to make them regret turning up to this lecture. And for once, you’re on their side, and not on the other. 

Lifting your head, you meet the Professor’s gaze easily. “I think the selectivity is the point; the underworld isn’t meant to be a place of full revelation. It’s a place of suffering, of punishment. The underworld offers partial knowledge, and only under strict conditions. To find any hint of stability and aid is already a miracle in and of itself. Narratively, the characters cannot rely too much on Tiresias — knowledge is supposed to be limited, restricted.”

There’s a small murmur. Approval, maybe. Or irritation. Certainly some grumbles of ‘Am I even in the right class?’

Professor Aldmahn nods slowly, smiling and revealing deep wrinkles in his eyes. “Controlled by whom?”

“The poem,” he cuts in. “Or by the structure of the nostos. Everything in that scene is oriented toward getting Odysseus home. Even the dead only matter insofar as they contribute to that.”

“Do you concur?” the professor asks you.

There it is.

The opening.

It’s almost instinctive: the way your mind turns, the counterargument rising sharp and immediate. You could push back, point out the inconsistency, pull at the thread until it…

You don’t.

Instead, you nod. Once. Politely. No more than that. “Sure,” you say. 

Eyes bore a searing hole into the side of your head, challenging. You pretend you don’t feel it.

Professor Aldmahn’s pen stills in his hand. “…I see,” he says after a moment, though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced of anything at all. If anything, he seems confused and cautious in one breath.  “Well, those were good thoughts, you two. Glad to see some people are paying attention.”

People whisper. Some glances between the two of you, waiting, expecting the familiar escalation, the relentless, eye-rolling back-and-forth that usually follows. It doesn’t come. Judging by the look on people’s faces, one would think the world was ending and trumpets were singing. 

And when Professor Aldmahn clears his throat and resumes the lecture, there’s a faint, unspoken sense that something has gone slightly, inexplicably off course.

Is it really that big of a deal that you didn’t continue debating, you wonder to yourself, with a little self-consciousness dragging you deeper into your seat to avoid the looks people are throwing at you.

After the lecture, you pack up your things and head straight for the door. A presence appears at your side. Blue sweater, blond hair, long legs, and a tight frown. 

“You don’t agree with me,” he says. It could come off as a question to someone else, perhaps an accusation or a reminder. To you, it comes with a tone of surprise, a hint of betrayal that almost makes you scoff. 

Still walking, you hike your bag up your shoulder and reply, “No, I do not.”

“So why didn’t you say?”

Usually, daring to dispute the other’s point so publicly, or even at all, would warrant a long back and forth battle that didn’t resemble a debate at all, more like turn-based lashings. The two of you would glare at each other, scoffing, turning your noses up. You’d point out how he has bed hair and he’d say your lips are crusty, or something of the sort. People would roll their eyes around you but no one would step in. Not professors. Not campus security. Not your friends. 

It could go on for hours. 

Today, you don’t have it in you.

You sigh and, for the first time in about a week, you meet his eyes. He looks the same as usual, albeit more tired. It’s hard to tell if that pleases you or not. Seriously, you ask, “What do you want? To gloat? Or maybe you want me to get on my knees and blow you?” 

He flinches like you struck him. Pink tinges his pale skin. A visceral reaction to the emotionless voice that pierces him. “No,” he says firmly, blinking hard. “No, of course not.”

“So? Is there something I can do for you?”

“A chance to talk, perhaps?” Nanami says, running a hand through his hair. 

Coldly, you remind him, “You had that, remember?”

Nanami freezes. He blanches. Pales like a ghost. You know he knows exactly what you’re referring to. Is he actually surprised you brought it up? Did he think you were just never going to say anything? Did he think you’d roll over and carry on as usual? 

“I did what you would have done,” he says quietly, almost to himself. 

You grip your bag tighter. “Is that what you tell yourself? Is that how you justify setting me up to yourself, to your friends, to whatever higher power you answer to? All for an assistant job you’ll have for only a month, maybe some time into summer too if you’re hanging around, before you go off and have an actual, graduate job?”

Nanami frowns. “She would have asked you if I had said no. She would have offered it to you, and you would have said yes.”

“Maybe,” you admit, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. “Maybe, but guess we’ll never know because you eagerly took the offer, didn’t you?”

To that, he has nothing to say.

Nanami Kento…

Finally rendered speechless.

The sight doesn’t offer you much satisfaction. Another sigh, and you’re telling him, “Don’t be a pussy. You did what you did and you’re better off for it. Stand on all ten toes and keep your chin up. You got what you wanted from me — orgasms, momentary companionship, a job, the ultimate sense of superiority. You won. You won. There’s nothing else left you could take from me. It’s over. Don’t you get it? It’s done. We’re done. You won, Nanami, and it better fucking feel good, because it sure doesn’t feel like it on my end.”

Each syllable you utter leaves a deeper indent on the crease between his brows. He blinks through the words, tries to process them as he would a text written in Latin or a Shakespearean puzzle. His hands flex. His shoulders roll back. He takes every hit with slight winces. And for once, he doesn’t argue with you. 

Today just doesn’t seem to be a day for debates.

You glance at your phone screen, and nod. “I gotta get to class.” 

You look up at him. He’s not looking at you. He’s looking at the space between you. There’s no telling what he’s thinking, and at this moment, you can’t bring yourself to care.

From your position, he doesn’t look as tall or as blond as you remember. “Congratulations, Nanami.”

Your legs don’t stop moving. You let yourself be carried forward with the crowd, down the hall, where the lights flicker and the sun doesn’t reach. 

Behind you, he remains standing, following you with his eyes and pleading for you to look back once.

You don’t.

.

.

.

Nanami Kento has known loss. 

He knew loss at 6 years old, when he was passed for class representative in favour of a badly behaved boy who couldn’t even tie his laces on his own, simply because he was louder. He faced loss the two times he placed second in exams as a pre-teen — both times having been because he was ill the days of the exams, so he hardly counted those as reflections of his performance. And lost too many times to count in high school. 

Oh, and how could he ever forget the horror that was the obnoxious loudmouths in his school, who always roped him into their shenanigans? The same horrors that followed him into university and became his closest friends.

Loss, he learnt from a young age, is a part of life. It builds character. Motivates one to work even harder, to reflect upon their mistakes, and grow. 

Loss is natural. 

Inevitable.

Loss…

Loss is good. 

He knows that.

So why is losing to you so hard to swallow?

From the very beginning, from the very first day, you were a pain in the ass. 

He remembers Induction Day so clearly — he had already memorised every single fact about the university and the course before arriving, so he thought the whole day was nonsense, but his parents had forced him to go. They wanted him to be more outgoing, to get out of his shell. To please them, he went. 

“Does anyone know where our campus library ranks in terms of collection size in the country?” the student tour guide droned. 

She was clearly tired. Fatigued. Bored of herself. Whatever pay she was getting for this little gig, it wasn’t enough. Perhaps that’s what contributed to the drained mood he was in; they were putting out the energy they were getting themselves, leading to an endless cycle of misery that not even a bullet to the temple would end.

“Yeah, it’s the second largest library in the UK,” a voice said brightly to the group, turning back with a smile that was a little too pleased with itself.

He recalls the wide eyes and bushy-tailed quality of that person, the sincerity in the smile, and the twinkle in those eyes that spoke of excitement and profound interest. They stood out in a crowd of anxious, pimply-faced, shy individuals whose faces and names he could never remember even if he was held at gunpoint. 

That person on the other hand struck him as being someone who everyone’s gaze would naturally gravitate towards in a hall of people. 

That person was you.

Of course, he had no way of knowing exactly who you would become in his life — a rival, a pain in the ass, a colleague, a… lover, and a reflection of all of his worst qualities. He did, however, know in that very second he looked at you that you would be a face he’d always notice on campus.

“First,” Nanami corrected, without looking up from the pamphlet in his hands. It slipped out. He hadn’t even planned to say anything, to make his presence known to the group of people he was sure he wouldn’t remember meeting after the day. Yet, he did. 

And whether he regrets it to this day, it remains unclear.

There was a beat. 

Nanami looked up then, feeling the weight of many eyes upon him. Most distinctly, yours. There was a challenge in your gaze. A spark of a flame that was being stifled by the lack of enthusiasm the tour guide was showing. 

You wore an off-the-shoulder top he never saw again. It was somewhat out of fashion, a fact he only knew from seeing what the other students were wearing, both prospective and existing. Your Converse, however, were already worn in and you never could bring yourself to part with them, no matter how dirty or busted they became through the years. 

The two of you cocked a brow at each other.

At the same time as he was sizing you up, he knew you were doing the same. He was sure you were looking at his shiny Oxfords, his ironed trousers, the structured blue sweater over his white button up, his smudgeless glasses, and combed back hair, and came to the conclusion that he was a complete and utter nerd. 

He’s certainly heard the words come out of your mouth often enough. 

Tilting your head, you said, “It was second, as of last year. They updated the figures.”

“Your source?” he coldly asked. 

You smiled wider. Like you had been waiting for him to ask. Like he shouldn’t have. Like he was going to regret that. “Current.”

“Yes,” the tour guide drawled. “It’s second now. But second isn’t bad.”

The both of you thought otherwise. That was why you looked so smug, and he was fighting the physical urge to show his devastation. How could he have outdated data? How could he so casually humiliate himself like that, especially in front of a pretty girl?

Yes, in the very distant past, Nanami had once, quite briefly, considered you an attractive young woman. But something about you was off-putting — maybe your arrogant smile, your refusal to raise your hand to answer questions, your loud talking, your too-shiny lipgloss?

Or, maybe, he simply recognised a deeper evil inside you. 

One that prompts you to fold the corners of pages, to crack spines, to eat as you read and leave greasy residue on book covers, that encourages you to rate books as you read, to chew on your pen lids, to mutter under your breath as you read passages, to clench down on him when you knew he was trying not to orga—

“…I see,” Nanami said at last.

You hummed. “Yes, I hope you do.”

“Your course?”

“Classical Lit.”

“Me too.”

“Hmm.”

And just like that, it was understood: you were going to be seeing a lot more of each other.

It’s silly, really. To be so caught up in petty rivalry to the point that you become infamous around the department, that admin staff have to separate you as much as possible. Even sillier that it would keep Nanami up at night. 

Oh, he’s pondered how to destroy you so many times. 

After every exchange, he’d be left seething, grinding his teeth, bouncing his knee, plotting how to best you at the next opportune. Sometimes he’s successful, sometimes he’s not. The latter mattered most. He could win 999 times, but that one time he doesn’t never fails to have him tossing and turning in bed, replaying your smug smile, your repulsive laughter, cutting words, and the way you spitefully strut away. 

Nanami would love nothing more than to wipe your smile away, to smother your laughter, to dull your words into something resembling admittance of defeat, and to drag you back so he can continue his scathing monologue about the superiority of his own points.

He did all that but the last when it mattered most, and again when you gave him the opportunity to talk; he had nothing to say for himself.

What does it matter?

He won. 

He got you to admit defeat. He got the job, got to have the last real word in the lecture, got to see you at your lowest. And he’ll have so much more beyond you after graduation. 

So why can’t he focus on shelving the damn books? Why can’t he feel a sense of pride at the grateful smiles patrons give him after he helped? Why can’t he sleep satisfied and knowing he won’t have to be at the top of his game come the next day because you won’t challenge him anymore?

Why can’t he stop thinking about you?

“Any other symptoms?” Shoko drawls.

Nanami jolts. 

“What?” he asks, straightening up with a small frown. 

Shoko’s brow rises but ultimately says nothing about whatever trance he was just in. Instead, she continues stirring the olive in her dirty martini with the toothpick. “You were asking what that ‘painful squeezing’ in your chest was, remember? Like, I’m the Doctor of everything. I’m not even a doctor of anything,” she grumbles.

Right…

They’re at a bar. 

The campus bar. 

He’d invited her out for a long overdue drink, since he’s been so busy at the library for weeks. It’s a catch-up between cynical friends. Also an excuse to get an informal check up without the hassle of making a doctor’s appointment and trekking across the city to find out that he’s merely overworked and underpaid. 

Adjusting his glasses, he says, “Yes. It’s been persisting for about a week now. Eight days exactly. It’s nonstop. Although, the intensity comes in waves. It’s distracting. Even debilitating. I also experience a shortness of breath — a panting, of sorts — that renders me unable to think, to see clearly, to remain standing. It happened last night.” 

She leans closer. “Oh?”

“I was at my desk, studying. The pain was dull then. Forgettable. Out of nowhere, a notification from my bank came through — a deposit from my assistant librarian job, if I recall correctly. That’s when it happened. I suddenly felt like the room was spinning,” Nanami continues, fingers drumming on the sticky bar table. “I couldn’t process where I was or what was happening. I ended up…”

“Ended up…”

“Huddling in the corner of my room, clutching my body,” he admits. There’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks, yet he persists. “Does any of that sound familiar? Perhaps something you covered?”

Shoko blinks at him from across the table. 

Then she laughs. 

It’s loud enough to attract the attention of people around. She doesn’t care. Nanami does. Very much. But he knows he can’t do anything about the chortling she’s letting out. 

All he can do is mutter, “What an overly-insensitive response to your dear friend’s admittance of medical concerns,” beneath her unrestricted laughter.

Five whole minutes must pass before she could get herself together. She’s wiping the tears from her eyes and clutching her side as she recovers. “Are you kidding me?” she asks. “Nanami, you big, tall idiot. You had a panic attack. You had a panic attack because you were reminded of your day job. I’m no psychologist but I’d say you’re feeling guilty. How can someone who reads and knows so much not know that?”

“Is that what Freud’s diagnosis would be?” he dryly responds, feeling foolish for having thought she would be able to offer any real help. 

She snorts. “Freud would say you’re overwhelmed with a sexual urge to mount your mother, so I really wouldn’t listen to him.” 

Left with no choice, Nanami contemplates the concept a little longer.

Did he have a panic attack?

The hyperventilating, the rocking oneself back and forth, the feeling like the world was going to end—

Yes.

Yes, he did have a panic attack, didn’t he?

He releases a long, heavy sigh. Resigned, he drags a hand down his face and asks, “And the chest thing? Why does my chest clench so tightly? Why is my chest so painful I almost can’t walk?”

Shrugging, Shoko responds, “Dunno. Could be something serious. I really wouldn’t rely on Med students for official diagnosis. Like, at all. Go to the doctors.”

“I know, and I will, if it continues on like this. But I wanted to talk to you first.”

“You’re not coming to me for medical advice,” Shoko points out. She leans back onto the wrinkled faux-leather booth and pops the olive in her mouth. “You came to me as a friend. You want my personal opinion.”

Nanami swallows a ball in his throat. 

Her words ring true. Shoko may be a lot of things — mischievous, rebellious, a delinquent — but she is neither stupid nor a liar. Which begs the question: why did he not realise these things about himself? When did he stop being so sure of his character, of his thoughts, of his own body? And why doesn’t he know what to do?

He’s always known the right path for him. He’s always known the rational course of action. He never hesitates when it comes to helping someone pick their fallen items up from the floor, never doubts his judgment regarding someone’s intentions, never worries about anything other than his future. 

So what the hell is happening?

“Guilt, you say?” Nanami murmurs, finding the word particularly bitter. “Yes, I suppose that’s possible. After all, I did do something unethical to get ahead; I should have never resorted to underhanded tactics.”

Shoko rolls her eyes. “You’re telling the wrong person, babes. Look, you’re a friend of mine so I’m always going to have your back even when you do dumb shit. You really don’t need to justify yourself to me. Talk to her. Explain all of this to her. Be honest, to her and yourself.”

“Her?”

He hadn’t mentioned a ‘her’ to anyone. He’d been quite vague about his time at the library, and how he came to be the last one standing. 

She takes a sip of her drink, as though needing something to dull the frustration of dealing with clueless men. “Her. The her. The only her that matters to you. The one you jilted. The one you can’t stop thinking about. The one that’s literally causing your body to shut down, that’s breaking your heart into little pieces. Her.”

That gets the man rolling his eyes. “A girl can’t possibly be the reason for my symptoms. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Yet you knew exactly who I was talking about,” she points out. He opens his mouth to retort, but she cuts him off immediately. “I’ll leave that for you to figure out. Here’s my professional diagnosis: you are burdened with a great sense of guilt over what you did, or whatever. To relieve yourself of your pain, you should address your guilt. In other words, apologise to her. Talk to her and reach a settlement. And maybe by doing so, you’ll finally realise something.”

Then she smiles to herself. “Hey, that sounded Doctor-like, right? God, I’m awesome.”

Brows furrowing, he asks, “‘Realise something?’ Realise what?”

She groans. “Oh my god, Nanami, I can’t do everything for you. Go do something to get her attention. Do something to force her to listen to you. Just talk to her. Confront her and all the things you don’t want to process, don’t want to admit to yourself. Just do something!”

A barrage of kicks under the table lands on his shins. Nanami shuffles out of the booth soon after. “Alright, alright. I understand. Right my wrongs, confront my source of malady, and relieve my psychological torment. Got it.”

Shoko watches him pull out his phone as he hurriedly strolls out of the bar. She rests her head on his hand and thinks, he don’t got a clue in the whole wide world.

Outside, Nanami sends a text to his friend:

Do you happen to know either of the numbers of Needa and Frend?

.

.

.

“Where are you guys?” you murmur as you text the words out to the group chat.

They’d texted you this afternoon, asking to meet up at the library before going to get coffee, which in and of itself isn’t odd — you meet up at the library often, being the diligent students that you are — but something about the location had your spine growing rigid.

You arrived on time, and had been waiting for about five minutes before they asked you to come inside. That was going to be a problem, you thought. You didn’t want to go inside. You haven’t been inside the library in over a week. 

Mrs. Collins was in there. He was in there. 

You didn’t want to run into either. 

But you need to see your friends, and they won’t reply to your messages about waiting outside. Were they doing an intervention on you? Were they fed up with the depressed mood you’d bring back to the apartment after every class? Were they forcing exposure therapy upon you?

Or maybe, they really do just need you to come in as they pack their things up. Ugh, why is this so hard for you? Why can’t you be nonchalant and pretend none of what happened bothers you? 

It’s a big library, you tell yourself. What are the chances you’ll see them?

Though, as you finally walk in, chanting those things in your head over and over again, you know you don’t quite believe in them. 

The first thing you notice is that not much has changed. It’s the same library. Same polished floors, same tall shelves stretching endlessly, same muted hum of turning pages and quiet footsteps. The smell hits you too — paper and dust and something faintly woody. Usually, it settles you. Grounds you.

Not today.

Today, it feels suffocating.

The air is thicker. Every sound is sharper. The space itself is watching you, waiting.

You slow your steps.

You’ve always loved it here. Loved the quiet corners, the weight of books in your hands, the feeling of getting lost between aisles and emerging hours later with something new tucked under your arm. It used to feel like a sanctuary, like a slice of heaven.

Now it feels like a place you’ve overstayed your welcome in.

Familiar spines, familiar sections, all arranged how you would have done it. Then, something new catches your eye. A display near the front, freshly arranged. Hardcovers, crisp and untouched, their jackets gleaming under the overhead lights.

New arrivals.

Your fingers hover over one of the books, tracing the sharp edge of its spine. Untouched. Unclaimed. No creases, no history yet. For a moment, something in your chest loosens.

You almost reach for it.

“They came in just today.”

His voice.

Right behind you.

“We’ve been having more and more new arrivals recently. More so than before,” he says, matter-of-factly.

Hand dropping, you reply, “How interesting.” 

Nanami says, “It is. It’s really quite interesting how Mrs. Collins had been able to acquire an increase in funding during a time of budget cuts, don’t you think?” 

See?

This is exactly what you were afraid of.

“I suppose that was her plan all along when she purposely hired two people she knew hated each other — she waited for us to cause trouble, to make a mess of things, so she could go cry to the board about needing more support.”

With a sigh, you turn to him. 

He’s standing at the end of the aisle, watching you. He’s exhausted, you can tell — dark shadows under his eyes, a slight stubbling on his jaw, a crease in his pant legs, his Oxfords not as shiny as they usually are, and his shirt untucked under his sweater all tell a story. 

You’ve never seen him look more like a mess. Not even when it was in the heart of exam and application season.

Bitterly, you ask “Is this the part where we bond over how we were both used? Because the way I see things, it isn’t an us versus her set up. It’s me against you, like it’s always been.”

Nanami ignores you. 

He strolls over to where you are. His chest meets your back, arms caging you in between the shelves. The familiar warmth, the woody scent over his soap, the slotting of bodies, it hits you all at once. You remain still. Very still. Wondering what he’d do. 

Behind you, he lets out a shaky breath, nose skimming your hair. “We were too good at our jobs. We took too long to mess up. And one ripped page from a random book, when we were… She couldn’t prove it was us, and it wouldn’t be enough to convince the board what the library needed: one, protection from the budget cuts; and two, an increase in funding. So she got her hands dirty. She staged a crime scene, so to speak, inspired by what we reported to her.”

“I don’t care,” you tell him, unable to shove him away and get some air.

Shaking his head, he continues, “Now, she’s received special money to increase security and pity money to order more new additions. That, and she gets to go on holiday more often this year. It’s sickening, and we can gather evidence of it.”

“Stop ignoring me.” You spin around, glaring at him. “I. Don’t. Care.” 

He frowns. “I thought you would want to do something about this. Call her out, report her—”

“Are you not hearing me?” you snap. 

Stunned into silence, he blinks rapidly, as though reeling from your failure to meet his expectation — he expected that you’d care about justice, about vindication, about being right. He expected you to stand up for yourself, to fight, to win. What he didn’t expect is for your eyes to turn glossy and for a flicker of pain to flash in them, all while you stare up at him like he’d kick you in the stomach after petting you.

“I care that you called me unreliable, emotional, and not cut out for the job.”

“That was in the interviews,” he defends. “When she asked me why I was a better fit. That was before..”

You don’t hear his words; blood is rushing in your ears. “I care that you ignored me for a week. I care about being blindsided. I care about the reason why you would…” you stammer out, blinking back tears that were rising, “...after everything we did, everything we said to each other… How could you not warn me what she was planning? How could you stand there and do nothing? How. Could. You.”

“You…you would have done the same thing,” he repeats like it’s the one tether he has and he’ll grasp it till it frays and snaps. “I didn’t want to be the one left behind. I-I thought that was your intention from the start, with all our little games, the ones we knew we shouldn’t play. I thought you were fattening me up for the kill. I thought you would have done the same thing when given the chance.”

Perhaps disappointed, you laugh to yourself. It’s cutting, both yourself and him.

So that’s what all of that was to him: a complex plot to sabotage him. 

You straighten up, tears drying and the towering walls you’d erected returning. He can feel the chilling gust breeze through him. He’s losing you. Again.

“Yeah, sure. You’re right. Maybe if she’d come to me first, I would have agreed to set you up. Maybe I would be raking in a bonus for my help. And maybe I wouldn’t even be chasing you to explain myself, to try and backtrack, to apologise. Maybe we’d just part ways understanding that in some ways — in ways that matter most — we lost to each other.”

You’d already figured out that, somehow, he’d gotten your friends to agree to help him set this up, so he can have an opportunity to talk to you. It’s likely that they thought it’d help you. It’s also as likely that Nanami had smooth-talked his way into weakening their defences with some promises or the other. 

They’re not here, but they will be at home, and you’re going to give them an earful when you get back. Then you’ll lean on their shoulders and get the suffocating waves of sobs threatening to rise up and out of your mouth out of your system once and for all. 

Nanami reaches for your arm, fingers grazing the material of your sweater. “No, it doesn’t matter,” he decides right here and now. “I don’t care if you would have.”

“Stop trying to talk to me. I have nothing more to say to you. Just leave me alone,” you say, snatching your arm away. 

“I can’t!”

You draw back. 

He…

Nanami had raised his voice for the first time since you’d known him. 

People passing by stop. They’re staring at him, at the assistant librarian they recognise. They eye you too, but you pay them no mind. You’re far too shocked by how crazed he looks — hair a mess from the frequent running of his hands through them, face flushed, chest heaving, and stoic face crumbling into a look of total panic. He starts pacing back and forth between the shelves. 

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, and outside of sex, it’s so jarring to hear him say something so uncouth. He resembles nothing like the Nanami you know. The Nanami everyone knows. “I’m doing this all wrong,” he mutters to himself. “I prepared a speech. I ran through this scenario hundreds of times in my head. I anticipated your insults, your revenge, physical attacks, and I was ready for it. Any of it. All of it.”

Those piercing eyes look at you, insisting, as though begging for you to understand. 

“Yell at me. Hit me. Right here,” he says, grabbing your hand with his own. He presses it to his chest, over his heart. “Hit me. Please.”

You try to tug your hand away out of his grip. He doesn’t let you. A little disoriented by the manic tremble of his voice, you carefully say, “Nanami, I’m not going to hit you.”

“Please,” he breathes out. Nanami keeps your palm flat against his chest. You can feel the thundering of his heart. It’s so strong you fear it might leap out of his ribs. “Please, hit me. Hurt me. Do something other than ignore me. I-I don’t know what to do when you don’t look at me, when you don’t argue with me, don’t shove your opinions down my throat, don’t gloat, don’t put me in my place, when you’re indifferent to me.”

The word came out like it’d been barbed. 

He draws closer, unwilling to let you go. “I can take your constant chattering, your glares, your grating laughter, your differing opinions — wrong as they are.” That almost gave you enough strength to pull away with a deadpan face, but his soft gaze keeps you glued to the spot. “I can take your hate. Because it means you feel something for me, because it makes me special. It gives me a role, a goal, a fucking purpose. So hit me, hurt me, hate me. Anything but writing me out of your life.”

Your heart’s pounding in your chest now too. It’s beating with an intensity that nearly has your vision spotting. 

Nanami was right, a thing he often is; you had been ignoring him. 

It hurt too much to look at him, to listen to his voice, to know his eyes were on you instead of the lecturer. You couldn’t understand why he was so insistent on getting your attention, on talking to you, when he had been the one to cut you off. 

He rejected your invitation to come up to your apartment. He kept his distance the last week before Mrs. Collins, the old hag, had made her decision. He accepted her offer. He stood by and allowed you to take the fall, because it benefited him, because he expected the worst from you. 

And yes, you kept agreeing that you would have done the same thing. The truth is, however, you really don’t think you would have. 

Values aside, because sabotage truly wasn’t below you, you’d grown to consider him a…friend. He was an ally on long days, a person to glance at when an older man asks where a copy of Lolita can be found for the third time in a week, a person who’d let you drink from his thermos when you’d ran late and couldn’t grab a cup of coffee, a person who brushed your hair into place after rendezvouses. 

The line between you had been crossed and blurred; it was impossible to define your relationship. But an alliance was there. A loyalty you’d come to expect. An understanding you would have gone above and beyond to protect. He didn’t feel the same. 

That was fine. 

It was fine when that ache in your chest thrummed so hard you couldn’t sleep, when you’d spend classes and lectures with an empty notebook spread and a blank document. It was fine when you would find yourself standing in the shower for what felt like five minutes, but was actually an hour, just staring off into space. It was fine when you saw him talking to girls who he hadn’t betrayed, hadn’t sold out for a job, and it had your knees weak and your breathing staggered. 

It was fine because it defined what you were to him. 

Him grasping your hand like it was the only thing keeping him on the ground, like you’re about to disappear at any given moment and it would kill him, however?

Not fucking fine. 

“Nanami,” you exhale out, scared, “that…that sounds an awful lot like a confession…of love.” The last syllable has your wide eyes meeting, equally as frightened by the word. “Is it?”

He lets your hand drop. You step back. No, stumble back. Nanami follows. His breathing is growing ragged, more so than before, and you can see a tempest spiralling inside. 

“You tell me,” he says, laughing a little. “No, seriously. Tell me. Because all I know is I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t focus on any of my work. I can’t breathe when you’re not looking at me. I feel like I cease to exist if you’re not perceiving me, ever the proverbial fucking tree in the forest.”

Every step you take back, he counters with a step forward. He maintains the short distance between you, keeping you in arm’s reach. 

Nanami continues, sounding angry, whether at himself or at you, you can’t tell: “I do things I shouldn’t do, that I wouldn’t do if it weren’t for you, like damage priceless books because I think your body’s more precious than historical artefacts. I steal manuscripts because I want to make you smile and annoyed in equal measure with the fact that I’ve gone ahead and written my thoughts all over it, left my mark, my soul, on something I desperately and pathetically hope you’ll go on and cherish.”

How did he get his hands on the manuscript? 

The look on your face has him laughing mirthlessly. 

“Of course you didn’t open it,” he says to himself. “You must have been too mad to, right? I ruined a beloved author of yours? Forever tainted your reading experience?”

No, you hadn’t read it; you couldn’t bring yourself to. You tucked the heavy thing under your bed, and, once it started to feel like it was burning a mark under your back when you slept, you hid it in Frend’s room, along with all other copies you have of the authors’ works. 

Did she give it to him? 

Now that you know he’d written things inside it, you realise you should have burnt it — you’ll never be able to fight the curiosity otherwise. You’ll forever be haunted with the need to know what he’d written, what he said, what he thought. 

“Want to know something?” Nanami wonders. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, though you’d already started to shake your head. “I’m beyond happy to know I’ve made my mark on you, that every time you hear that authors’ name, you’ll think of me.”

Voice hoarse, you can’t help but ask, “What did you write?”

His lips quirk up at the corner. “Nothing you’d agree with, I’m sure.”

“You were insulting one of my favourite writers?” 

“Critiquing,” he corrects, taking another step forward right as you step back. “I wrote down my thoughts, and anticipated your counters during my breaks at my internship, every time I was thinking of you and wondering what you were doing. If you were stocking, shelving, dusting, offering recommendations, cursing me out. I argued with my imagination in those pages, because I’d clearly gone insane.”

He certainly looks it, you think. 

Especially when your back meets the wall in a corner of the library no one ever goes to and he cages you with his body, shielding you from locking eyes with anyone but him. 

“That’s where I’m at now,” Nanami says, resigned to the fact. “I pleasure you with my body where we could be caught, and I don’t think about how terrible it would be to be seen in an intimate position, to get into trouble, to lose everything I’ve built. I think about how devastated I’d be if someone else were to see you in a way only I should. But then it eats me up that I think that way about you, that I dare lay claim to your body, when no part of you is mine. And I so badly want to have a part of you. Any part — your body momentarily, your pleasure, your laughter, your smile.”

You’re panting as hard as he is. 

Your head is reeling. 

You’re dizzy with every confession, every brush of his breath against your cheek, every graze of your heaving chest against his, every inch of skin his eyes touch. “Nanami…”

Bending down, he presses his forehead to yours. At the same time, your eyes flutter shut. All you can feel is him. A pained noise escapes him the moment skin touches skin. He sounds accusing, betrayed, when he whispers, “You’ve taken all of that away now.” 

He’s everywhere, a shade from the depths of hell, that spirit that follows you and you cannot, under any circumstances, look back at. 

His head falls to your shoulder, and you’re so still you could be a statue carved by Bernini himself. “And fine, I deserve it. I’m the worst. I’m a monster. And I finally understand why you’d prefer to talk over me in our debates — I cannot stand the sound of my own voice either.”

Lips slide up the curve of your neck. 

You gasp.

It’s light. Barely there. Yet, it lights up a path under your skin, your jaw, your cheek, temple. 

“But please, please, do not take your hatred of me away,” Nanami pleads at your hairline, unable to face you. “It is all I have left, all I know, and I don’t know how to function without it. So yes, tell me. Is this love?”

“Let me go,” you murmur. 

He says your name in response like a prayer. 

You push him away, and this time he lets you. “No, Nanami. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore.” Wrapping your arms around yourself at the sudden chill in the air, you continue, “I need time to think. I need time to process all of this, a-and we’ve got exams, and graduation to worry about. I don’t know if I should even forgive you.”

“Don’t,” he says resolutely, licking his lips. “Don’t forgive me. I want to be kept in your heart and your mind, even if it is for all the wrong reasons. If resentment is all you can give me, then I’ll take it.”

God, when did the most cynical, pragmatic man you know become such a romantic?

With a nod, you back away as he stays where he stands, watching. 

“Alright,” you agree. “Time and space. That’s all I need.”

Nanami tries to give you a reassuring smile, but his heart isn’t quite in it. He says, “Whatever you need.”

Like your feet are on fire, you start walking away, confused and adrift in a sea of thoughts and voices. 

The last one you hear says, “I’ll wait for you.”

.

.

.

“Smile, sweetheart.”

Groaning, you force yet another smile on your face as your mother takes the millionth picture of the day. 

“Just one more,” she insists, again. She tilts the phone, steps back, then forward, then back again. One would think she’s directing a full photoshoot instead of capturing you in an oversized gown and a cap that won’t sit straight. 

“It’s been ‘one more’ for the past twenty minutes,” you mutter. 

Behind her, your father fixes you a look that says, ‘make my wife happy or you won’t get your graduation gift.’ You smile even wider.

The campus is buzzing — families calling out names, bursts of laughter, the sharp pop of champagne somewhere in the distance. Caps are already being tossed, hugging circles forming and dissolving just as quickly. All around, mothers are fussing over their no-longer-children children, fathers patting their sons on the back, and friends are crying in huddles. 

“Hold your certificate higher,” she says. You do, barely adjusting your grip. It still feels a little unreal in your hands; it feels like it belongs to someone else, someone more put-together, more certain of what comes next. “Perfect,” she says softly this time, snapping the photo.

With a plea in your eyes, you groan, “Please, mom, that’s enough. My feet hurt and I’m hungry. That ceremony took forever.”

“Okay, okay. Come here,” your mother says, pulling you into a hug before you can say anything. It’s tighter than usual. “I’m proud of you,” she murmurs into your hair. 

Your dad steps forward, pressing a smile to your forehead with a kiss. “I’m proud of you too, honey. You worked hard, and I know you’ll do great, all that cheesy stuff fathers are supposed to say without crying.”

Something in you loosens at that.

When they pull away, eyes a little glassy, you have to clear your throat and pretend you don’t want to bawl up and cry. “Stop, you’re going to ruin my makeup.”

“Go ahead, dear. I brought your makeup bag,” your mother teases. “After all, it’s not everyday my baby graduates.”

Graduation…

The day you’ve been waiting for for years. It’s the culmination of all of the work you put in every day of your life. When you missed plans with friends to study, when you pulled all-nighters to make sure you’ve memorised your essay plans, when you’ve missed mealtimes, when you beat yourself up for losing easy marks. 

All of it was for this day. 

And it’s pretty bittersweet.

For as long as you can remember, there was always a next step laid out — another year, another exam, another goal to chase. School, college, university…it had been a constant, something steady to measure yourself against.

Now it just… ends.

A strange quiet sits beneath all the noise around you. Beneath the laughter and the congratulations and the endless pictures, there’s this soft, unfamiliar feeling, like standing at the edge of something vast without quite seeing what’s on the other side. Yeah, graduating has clearly been having a cheesy effect on you. You’re contemplative, poetic, melancholy, already nostalgic. 

You think of your friends, scattered somewhere in the crowd. The ones who knew your worst habits, who sat beside you in lectures, who shared notes and snacks and stress in equal measure. It’s so easy to pretend nothing will change, that you’ll still see each other all the time, but you know better. Life has a way of pulling people in different directions.

That part aches.

But there’s something else too. Something lighter.

A thought that, for the first time, nothing is decided for you. No timetables, no deadlines, no predetermined path. Just space, wide and open and yours.

You exhale slowly, shoulders easing.

Maybe it’s okay not to know yet.

Maybe that’s the point.

Maybe you’re allowed to take a leap and just follow your heart, not your brain now. Maybe it’s time to give logic and reason a break. 

“Come on,” your mum nudges, already reaching for your hand again, eyes bright despite the tears she’s pretending aren’t there. “We’re going to be late for our reservation.”

“Hold on. I have something to do.”

You push through the crowd, leaving them there for a moment. You bundle your dress up with a fist and hold your cap down with the other. Through the gaps between bodies and crowds, you move. You meander, searching. 

Where is he?

Where is he?

Where is he?

Then, a flash of blond.

“Nanami!”

He turns at the sound of your voice over the din. He’s dressed just like you — cap in hand, gown with the Literature department’s colours, in his best clothes under it. His family surrounds him. 

For a second, he just looks at you, surprised. Then something in his expression softens. Hope, maybe. Or caution; he doesn’t want to assume. He doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. 

You slow to a stop in front of him, suddenly aware of your heartbeat, of everything you meant to say slipping just out of reach. “Hi,” you manage, a little breathless. “Um, congratulations.”

He lets out a small huff of a laugh, almost disbelieving. “Hi.” Nanami steps forward, away from his family, who are sharing glances with interest and mischief. You feel his eyes take all of you in. “Congratulations to you too.”

Up close, he looks the same, and not. Still composed, still steady, but there’s a looseness to him now, something less guarded than before. He’s matured, you realise. He was so stiff when you first met him, so rigid. He’d grown more lax in the years, but especially in the last couple months. Nanami doesn’t look like the nerdy, condescending boy you corrected on Induction Day; he looks like a man about to take on the world.

“I, um…I saw you,” you say, gesturing vaguely, wincing at how inadequate it sounds. “I thought I should come over. Just to—” You trail off. Just to what? “Say hi?”

He tilts his head slightly, watching you in that quiet, attentive way of his. If he finds your sudden weirdness off-putting, he gives no indication of it. On the contrary, he just looks happy. “I’m glad you did,” he says simply. 

And he means it. You can hear it in the way his voice dips. 

Your chest tightens.

A month ago, you’d asked for time. Space to think, to feel, to figure out what his apology, and his confession, meant to you. You hadn’t reached out. Hadn’t known how. Part of you had wondered if that silence had already said everything. And you know, by how surprised he was to see you approach him, he was thinking the same thing.

Nanami’s gentle gaze skims your features. His voice is a mere whisper in the air when he admits, “I wanted to say hi too. At the very least, congratulate you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity.”

He’s being so meek, so shy. It doesn’t suit him. And it doesn’t suit you either. So you admit something too: “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

“I always want to.”

This whole time, you’d been wondering if you left it too late to respond. If by the time you came up with an answer, he’d look at you strangely and ask, ‘what are you talking about?’, and you thought about how much more that would hurt than whatever he did wrong to begin with. But Nanami’s not leaving much room for doubt now that you’re standing in front of him.

“I read the manuscript.”

He blinks. “Oh.” He recovers. “The courteous thing to do is ask what you thought of it, but I’m not certain I’d like to know.”

“Your notes in the first section, where she traces the history of the word, were irritating as hell,” you tell him anyway. “You kept trying to ground everything in formal sources. Legal language, institutional use. That’s only one part of it. She’s looking at how the word moves in everyday use. Who says it, when, and why. That’s where the meaning shifts. You can’t ignore that just because it’s harder to pin down.”

Nanami, despite your lecture, stays standing in front of you. “I see.”

“And the part on the reclamation of the word? She’s clear about that, and its feminist roots. It depends on context. It depends on who is speaking and who is listening. You kept trying to make it consistent when it isn’t meant to be, and I didn’t appreciate you writing quotation marks around ‘empowerment — it is empowering!” 

“Sure,” he says. “Or is that another way the patriarchy keeps women down, by indoctrinating you to believe normalising degrading language against women by both women so that you will accept it when a man says it?”

“Shut up,” you counter, because he made a good point and you don’t really have the time to break that down. “Also, you kept anticipating what I would say. Some of it was right. Not all of it. You assumed I’d defend everything she wrote. I wouldn’t. Some of it is speculative, I’m smart enough to recognise that, despite my biases towards Rightur.”

He adjusts his glasses. “Of course you are. I did write some of those comments to get a reaction. Forgive me.”

“No, I knew that,” you say. Shuffling in your heels, you fiddle with the tassel on your cap. “I just wanted you to know that I read your notes, and I didn’t find it as completely irritating as I initially thought. I actually kinda enjoyed reading them, and there were times where I anticipated what you’d say, and I could imagine the faces you’d make, and that was the annoying part. I couldn’t read without thinking of you.”

Nanami’s brows knit together. 

“I don’t understand.”

Taking a deep breath, you say, “Listen, I won’t keep you; I’m sure you have plans with your family. I do too. All I wanted to say before we parted ways is that, I’m thankful for you, for the manuscript, for the games we shouldn’t have played, for our debates.”

His mouth opens, you stop him with a hand. 

“No, just let me speak,” you huff. He does. “I’m grateful for you pushing me, for you being a pain in my ass, for making these three years memorable and fun. I know that if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have pushed myself as far as I did. I wouldn’t have found every achievement as gratifying and fulfilling as I did; they would have been like all my other successes: a relief.”

It’s funny how you hadn’t rehearsed any of these words and yet they flow out of you so naturally. You’d thought about how hard it’d be to face him, but as it turns out, it’s not that hard at all.

You continue, cheeks heated under the watchful and curious eyes of his family,“And most of all, I’m thankful for your honesty that day. I never stopped thinking about what you said, and all I worried about was whether I’d be able to say anything remotely as heartfelt and poetic, and that really grinded my gears, y’know?”

“That I’d be more eloquent and sophisticated with my confession than you?” Nanami fills in the gaps, cocking a brow as he does. 

Sheepishly, you nod. “Yeah. I had all this time, and all I could think to say is… I hate you.”

He falters just slightly, then recovers with a smile. “You do?”

“Yes,” you say, meeting his eyes with certainty. “I hate you. I hate you so, so much. I hate everything about you: your blondness, the fact that you sometimes make good points, that you remind me natural intelligence isn’t enough. I hate that you judge me for dog-earring my pages and cracking my spine. I hate that you read a new book every week and I read the same ones all the time. I hate that you’ve got impaired vision but you see better than me.”

His family behind him try to step up, concerned as to why their beloved Nanami is probably being bullied, but he steps closer to you, ignoring them. 

“Yeah?”

Sniffling, you mutter, “Yeah. I hate that you’ve already formed a little wrinkle between your eyebrows because you’re always so serious, and it makes me giggle to see you look so mad when you’re just writing notes or putting books away.”

Nanami smiles wider. “You hate my wrinkle? What else?”

“I hate that you’re so patient, even when people say and do the stupidest things. I hate that you match your sweaters to your mood — light blue for when you received good news, dark blue when you’re tired, and brown for when you’re meeting friends. I hate that I associate blue and yellow to you, and I can’t look up at the sky or the sea without thinking of you. I hate that you’re everywhere I look. I hate, hate, hate, that we might never see each other again.”

He draws closer till you’re craning your neck to look up at him. He’s smiling really hard now. Grinning ear to ear. Hands cradle your cheeks and you let him feel how heated they are, let him brush his thumbs over them. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” he drawls. “You must be overwhelmed with hate.”

You scrunch your nose, even as you lean into his touch. “Yeah, but it comes naturally to me. You drive me insane, you see.”

“Mm,” he hums, thumbs still brushing gently over your cheeks, like he’s committing the shape of you to memory, like he thought he’d never get the chance to touch you again. Not a hint of embarrassment at the fact that his family’s watching shows on his face. He might have forgotten they’re there at all. “Sounds terminal.”

“It is,” you murmur, though your voice wobbles. “I don’t think I’ll recover.”

“That’s unfortunate,” he says. “I think I caught the same thing. Must have gotten it from me. Forgive me.”

The two of you share light laughter. And it’s so easy. It’s as easy as arguing, as reading, as wishing the worst for someone who made you the best. You could spend hours like this. But your parents are waiting, and so are his.

Your hands come up, almost without thinking, settling over his wrists. “I was serious about the not seeing you again thing. I want to see you after this. I don’t—” you shake your head, searching for the words, “—I don’t want that to be how this ends. I don’t want you to just become…a person I used to know.”

“Neither do I,” he says, sure.

“So,” you say, forcing a steadiness you don’t quite feel, “can we try again? Not necessarily to fix everything right now and pretend nothing happened, but just…to meet? Talk properly?”

His answer comes too quickly to be anything but honest: “Yes. Yes, please.”

It almost makes you laugh, how immediate it is. “Okay,” you say, a little breathless. “Okay, good. Then, when are you free?”

That’s when he hesitates. It’s subtle, yet you catch it instantly. He glances back briefly, like he just remembered they existed. “My family’s going on a trip, to celebrate. We’ve got more relatives to visit around the country, and it was planned weeks ago.”

Nanami’s explaining as though he needs to justify any of it, but all you’re thinking is, of course it was. Of course the timing would be like this. Of course you’re too late. 

“Oh,” you repeat, softer this time.

Something in your face must give you away, because his hands tighten slightly against your cheeks. “I’ll come back,” he says, firm now.

You blink. “What?”

“I’ll drive back as soon as I can,” he continues, as though he’s already decided it, as though it’s the most obvious solution in the world. “We won’t leave it like this again. I won’t.”

“Nanami—”

“I mean it,” he insists, quieter but no less intense. “If this is…if this is you giving me a chance, I’m not going to miss it. I’ll come back. We’ll talk. Properly.”

There’s something almost desperate in the way he says it; he’s already mapped it out in his head, already prepared to bend whatever he has to just to make it happen, already rushing through conversations and parties with relatives he’s not even very close to.

You stare at him for a moment, a little stunned. “…You’d do that?”

“Yes.”

No hesitation. None.

A small, disbelieving laugh escapes you. “God, I hate that you’re like this.”

“I know.”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling now, really smiling. “Okay,” you say. “Then… go. Do your family thing.”

“I will,” he says, though he doesn’t move. Not yet.

“And come back,” you add.

“I will.”

A beat.

“…Where are you even going?” you ask, suddenly realising you don’t actually know, realising that if you’re going to do this — whatever this is — you have to ask questions. It’s what girlfriends do, or whatever you are or will be to him. 

For the first time since you started speaking, something unreadable flickers across his face. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, smoothed over into something fine.

But not quite as warm.

“Shibuya.”

“Shibuya,” you repeat. “Sounds fun.”

Nanami peers into your eyes before he draws back. Crowds reappear in your peripheral. The noise sets in again, almost deafening. He’s smiling, and so are you. Whatever you wear on your face, he reflects threefold. 

You back away too, back the way you went, back to where your parents are waiting. 

The wind blows between you, carrying petals with them, which swirl around your bodies. 

“I’ll come back,” he promises one last time.

“I’ll see you.”

“Hey” you breathe, stepping up behind him as he stands at the door. You slide your arms around his waist and press yourself close. Your palm spreads across his abdomen, his skin warm through fabric, familiar and missed. 

You feel it instantly, the way his body stiffens, muscle going rigid beneath your touch. A hitch in his breath, a small warning. His fingers twitch, itching to pry you off.

You pretend not to notice.

You lean in anyway.

“You think you could come home at lunch?” you murmur, voice dipped playfully low, trying to inflect it with as much obvious desire as you could. “I need a little… self-care.”

You feel his breath change before he speaks.

“No. That’s not possible.”

Curt and flat, like you expected. 

He peels your arms away like they burn, steps out of your hold without looking back. The space he leaves between you feels cold. He bends to pull on his shoes, laces them with neat, practiced precision, the same way he does everything. Controlled and methodical.

You stare at his broad back. At the way the muscle shifts beneath the sky-blue shirt he favours. The sword holster already strapped in place. A horrible reminder of everything that took him from you, and what brought him back wrong.

“Please, Kento—” you start softly, reaching out, fingers barely grazing his shoulder before he shrugs you off.

The rejection hurts more than you expect it to.  

“I’m busy.”

He stands, reaches for his tan suit jacket and slips it on, one arm, then the other. And then, like he hasn’t just pushed you away, like he hasn’t fractured something delicate in your chest, he turns, presses a brief, chaste kiss to your cheek.

You don’t react. You just watch him walk out the door without another word.

He’s been like this since he came home. Since the bandages came off.

Before that, before he could see himself clearly, he let you care for him. Let you sit close, touch him. He watched you quietly while you changed his wrappings, while you smoothed creams and lotions into puckered skin with slow, careful hands.

Then something snapped. A switch was flipped, clean and final.

He no longer holds you when he sleeps. Turns his back instead, a blank wall of cool distance. Even when you curl up behind him, content to be the big spoon, breathing him in, he finds an excuse to leave the bed. The bathroom. The kitchen. Anywhere but stay with you.

He doesn’t reach for you anymore.

No gentle love-making against the counter. No lazy mornings tangled in sheets together. No lingering touches, no heat, no hunger.

Everything…just gone.

You’d tried not to let it bother you, tried to tell yourself that you had to wait, that he’d been through something life changing, something that had left him with injuries, mental and physical, that you couldn’t even begin to understand. But the detachment, the complete lack of intimacy, watching him drift away and become a stranger was unbearable. 

You’d gotten your husband back, but only in the flesh, not in soul. 

…

By midday, your thoughts are spiralling, a self destructive loop you can’t escape. The house is too quiet. No footsteps. No breathing that isn’t your own. The silence presses in, makes everything louder.

You lift your phone. Your finger hovers over his name in your contacts.

You want to hear his voice. You need it. Need him to say it, to reassure you that everything is fine, that this morning meant nothing, that he still loves you. That you haven’t already lost him.

But the memory of his cool rejection stops you. The way he’d pulled away. The flatness in his usually warm voice.

Your hand trembles.

You scroll lower instead, thumb tapping Shoko’s name before you can overthink it. It rings once. Twice. Then her voice filters through the speaker, soft, breathy, echoing slightly.

“Shoko here.”

You can hear the chaos around her. Metal clattering. A wheeled tray squealing across tile before crashing to a halt. You’re on speaker, of course you are. You can just picture her phone propped somewhere unholy while she peers into some poor soul opened up upon her table.

“Hey… it’s me” you say quietly. The words feel intrusive the second they leave your mouth. Embarrassment curls tight in your chest. You shouldn’t be calling her with this. “Um…never mind, pretend I didn’t call. Sorry for bother—”

“I’m not busy” she interrupts gently. “Talk. I can tell something’s wrong.”

A sickening crack sounds through the phone, followed by a wet, visceral squelch.

“It’s Nanami” you say softly. Your free hand hooks around the nape of your neck, fingers pinching skin hard enough to ground you. To keep your voice steady.

“Is he injured?”

Of course that’s where her mind goes. She was the one who stitched him back together. Who scraped him and Gojo off the battlefield and made them whole again.

“Not physically.” You pace the room, nails worrying at your skin, a nervous habit you can’t seem to stop.

The sounds on her end cease abruptly. Latex snaps. Footstep louder as she nears the receiver, her hand closing around the phone, and suddenly her voice is closer. Focused.

“What’s going on?”

“He’s… distant.” The word feels inadequate. You struggle to hold yourself together, throat tightening. “He doesn’t… touch me anymore.”

She exhales slowly. Weary. “Well. He’s been through a big… change.”

“I know—” You rush the words, afraid she thinks you’re selfish. “I understand that. I just…I don’t understand why he’s distant with me. I was there through it all. Through all the treatment. And I’d never see him as anything other than perfect—” Your voice falters, breathless, embarrassment bleeding in through the cracks.

She laughs softly, just a gentle puff of air. “I know you were. You were very brave.” A pause. “I think you just need to give him more time. I’m sure he still loves you. He’s just… tender right now.”

“I miss him.” The words shake as they leave you. Tears burn behind your eyes, gathering fast. Your throat burns, constricting as you try to swallow. “I feel like I’m losing him”.

“Tell him that” she says gently. “I’m sure he’s not doing this intentionally. As long as he knows you’re still there, that you still love him, that you still need him, body and soul, it should help.”

You nod even though she can’t see you. Tears spill over, slipping across your cheeks and down over your lips, seeping into the corners of your mouth. You sniff, wiping your face with the back of your hand.

Her voice softens further. “Don’t cry. He’d hate to know he’s causing you this much pain.”

“I’m so lonely” you gasp. Your knees give out and you slump onto the couch, sinking back into the cushions. The tears come freely now. “I miss him so, so much.”

She stays with you. Listens. Lets you cry for fifteen long minutes, offering soft reassurance, quiet advice, gentle encouragement, until there’s nothing left in you but exhaustion and salt-stung skin.

The house is still quiet, but at least you’re not alone in it anymore.

… 

You find the rum shoved into the back of a cupboard, dust clinging to it’s glass shoulders. You crack it open, bring it to your nose. Sharp and sweet, like forbidden caramel. You hesitate only a second before deciding it shouldn’t hurt.

You make yourself a rum and coke. Then another. The pours are heavy, more rum than mixer, barely diluted. You sit at the kitchen table and nurse it, watching condensation bead and slide down the glass. Ice chimes softly each time you lift it. Your thoughts buzz, a low hum under your skin. The tightness in your shoulders loosens. Your body softens before your heart can catch up.

He comes home the way he always does. Quiet, and careful. Like he’s afraid to disturb you no matter what you’re doing.

Now, you wonder if it’s something else entirely.

If it’s avoidance.

Avoiding you, your eyes, your questions. Your hands.

You take another long swallow, the thought burning through you like acid.

“Kento” you hum when he steps into the kitchen. He pauses, surprise flickering across his face when he spots you sitting there in near darkness. “Welcome home.”

His voice is cool, detached. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

His hazel eyes flick to the bottle. Then to the glass in your hand.

“Because…” you wave vaguely. “Atmosphere.”

He flicks on the light without acknowledging you. You wince as it floods the room, stinging your eyes. He moves in immediately, takes the bottle from the table despite your protest and pours the rest down the sink. You watch it disappear. He rinses your glass quickly and sets it on the drying rack.

Clean, quick, and final.

He turns, hands gripping the counter, lower back braced against the hard edge. “What are you doing?”

You scoff and stand, the world tilts. You plant a palm flat on the table, waiting for the room to stop swaying. When there’s only one of him again, you move toward him, unsteady, hands landing on his waist, twitching against the warm muscle.

“Oh…” you breathe, melting into him. “I missed you.”

You nuzzle your face into his chest like a cat seeking warmth, breathing him in. “You smell good, I missed you so much”

“And drinking helped for what reason?”

“Self-medicating” you laugh softly.

This is the closest he’s let you get in days. You’re drunk on the sensation alone, your cheek rubbing against his chest, his heat soaking into you. “Nanami” you breathe, saying his name over and over, helpless to stop yourself.

“Stop that” he grunts, hands closing around your arms. He pulls you back. “You’re drunk.”

“Oh, Nanami, please” you whimper.

You rise onto your toes and kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated. His lips are stiff beneath yours, permitting, but not returning the action. You mouth at him desperately, teeth catching his lip, hands clawing at his neck, trying to pull him closer.

He doesn’t move, stood like a stone wall. 

His hazel eyes look at you like he doesn’t know you.

You don’t notice. You can’t. Want roars too loud. Your fingers fumble with his buttons, lips leaving his mouth only so you can see what you’re doing. You reach the fifth button before he catches both your wrists in one hand and stops you cold.

“Stop. I’m not in the mood.”

You do, for a second. You stare down at where his grip holds you, your drunk, touch-starved mind screaming at you to keep going. You surge forward again, mouth crashing back onto his, teeth nipping at his lip in your clumsiness.

“I said stop”. He snaps the words and shoves you away

The sudden force, combined with your unsteady footing, sends you stumbling back. Your hip collides with the corner of the table. Pain flares white-hot before you come to a stop, braced against it.

For a moment there’s only silence.

You freeze, hands splayed on the table. The shock sobers you in an instant.

His hands lift, hovering, reaching for you. Then his gaze flicks to his own hand, the scarred one, the webbing along his skin, and whatever he sees there makes him pull back. His arms drop to his sides.

“I’m sorry” he says. Exhausted. Worn thin. “I shouldn’t have—”

“No. I’m sorry.” The humiliation burns, a feeling you never thought he’d make you feel “I shouldn’t have… jumped you like that.”

You shake your head, push hair back from your face, fighting to stay composed. Fighting not to cry again. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You can’t look at him. You can’t stand the weight of his eyes on you. You turn away, hiding the tears, the bitten, bloodied lip, the shame burning across your face. “Don’t worry.”

An awkward silence fills the air, you have the desperate urge to hide.

“I’m going to shower” he murmurs.

He slips past you, pausing just long enough to press a kiss to your temple. You flinch. Not fully, but enough. Your shoulders curl inward, your head drops, hair falling like a curtain between you and him.

And once again, he’s gone, slipping into the bathroom, the soft click resonating round the kitchen.

You stand there for a moment, unmoving. Your heart pulses hard in your chest, uneven, like it’s lost its footing. It feels as though the bottom has fallen out of you entirely. You don’t know what to do with your hands, with your body. 

The taste of rum lingers on your tongue, and thankfully, the alcohol blunts the worst of it. 

Just enough.

You know tomorrow will be different. Morning will strip you bare. You’ll feel it all at once.

You turn on the faucet, cold water rushing loud in the quiet room. You splash it over your face, gasp at the chill, cup your hands to sip some slowly. Then you shut it off and lean over the sink, elbows locked, water dripping from the tip of your nose.

You stare down at the plug hole.

Your thoughts twist together, a tangled mess of shame, confusion and longing, too knotted to separate. 

Later, when he’s showered and slipped into bed, when the usual kiss to your cheek never comes, you stand in the doorway. 

Hovering. Caught on the precipice of a decision that feels far too heavy and final.

You could cross the room. Crawl in beside him. Reach out and press your fingers to his warm back, just to be sure he’s still there.

But you can’t.

You can’t take the expanse of his back turned to you. The way his wheat-coloured hair fans across the pillow. The way his body goes rigid whenever you get too close.

So you turn away.

You tuck your nightgown tighter around yourself, chasing warmth that won’t come. You choose the couch instead. Curl onto your side beneath a blanket pulled from the linen closet, staring at the walls washed dark blue by the night.

The distance between you and him has never felt so vast. A chasm you keep reaching across, only to be pushed back every single time.

And you don’t know how many more times you can survive the fall.

…

Your decision comes the way most of them do.

Not dramatic.

Not loud.

Just blank. Heavy. Settled into your bones like something inevitable.

You tried.

You kept reaching for him, again and again. Small, careful touches. Fingers brushing his hand. Quiet reminders that you loved him. That you were still here. Waiting, hoping he’d take your hand, pull you in, hold you like he used to.

He didn’t.

He left you alone.

You’d wanted the weekend. Something simple. The beach, maybe. Salty air and blazing sunshine. Time to remember each other. You touched his hand when you suggested it.

He flinched. Actually flinched.

Mumbled something about work. About being called in. Wouldn’t meet your eyes. Then, later that afternoon, Gojo called, cheerful and oblivious, asking for Nanami.

That’s when it hit you.

He hadn’t been called away. He’d chosen to leave. To avoid you.

He was gone, and you were clinging to what was left behind. A shell. A familiar shape, but empty inside.

You didn’t confront him. There was no point. It felt like shutters slamming closed around your heart, an act of self-preservation more than cruelty. You couldn’t survive being gutted like this anymore.

So you chose to leave.

Being alone was better than being with someone who made you feel lonely.

The door opens softly. Like always. Shoes scuff as he toes them off. Keys clink into the bowl by the door. The whisper of fabric as he loosens his tie. Normal sounds on a normal evening.

You steel yourself.

These are the words you’ve only ever heard in your nightmares.

He senses it immediately, that there’s something wrong. Maybe it’s your face. The way your shoulders are set. The manila envelope on the table, stark and out of place.

“Y/N.”

It’s the first time he’s said your name in a while. It sounds strange from his lips now. 

You swallow. Trying to pick your words carefully, everything you’d rehearsed vanishes. “I… I’m leaving.”

“Where are you going?”

“No.” Your voice shakes. “Kento, I’m leaving… you.” The words nearly choke you. Your gaze drops to your knees. “I want a divorce.”

The silence that follows is thick. Heavy. Neither of you move. You wonder if this is it, if he’ll just nod, go to another room, sign the papers like it’s a task and be done with you.

“What— I don’t understand.” He steps forward, breathless, then stops short of you. “Why would you— I don’t want this— no, you can’t—”

“I don’t understand either” you whisper. Somehow, your voice holds. “I don’t know how we got here. I’ve tried, Nanami.”

He winces at the name. At the distance you’ve put between you.

“I feel alone” you continue, the words finally spilling. “All the time. I reach for you. I try to kiss you. To touch you. I’ve thrown myself at you like some—some common whore.” Your hands clench, nails biting into your palms to keep the tears back. “And you push me away. Every time. You don’t even look at me anymore.” Your breath stutters. “When was the last time we fucked?”

He looks wrecked. Jaw tight. Hazel eyes wavering. He shakes his head, like he’s holding himself back from saying something worse.

“You don’t get it” he says finally.

“What don’t I get?” Your voice rises despite you. Tears blur everything. “I can’t live with this distance. I miss the love we used to share. I miss being wanted by you.” Your voice breaks completely. “But more than anything…I miss you, so much…it feels like I’m dying”

He goes still. Confusion drains into despair. He moves closer, his eyes redden with every breath.

“When I first saw myself in the mirror after treatment…” His voice is rough. Unsteady. “All I could think was how you’d regret this. Regret me… surviving.” He swallows hard. “I didn’t want to see it in your eyes. I thought it was better if I pushed you away instead.”

He looks at you then. Really looks at you. Tears cling to his lashes.

“I mean…look at me.” His brows tremble, folding in pain. “Who would want this?” A broken laugh. “Actually, maybe it is better if you leave. Find someone else. Stop wasting your life on someone already broken.”

Something inside you ruptures.

It feels like you’re bleeding internally, waves of emotion ripping at your soul. Sobs tear out of you, violent and uncontrollable. Your head throbs. Burns. Everything hurts, like he’s taken a blade and split you open from throat to stomach.

You realise you’re wailing.

Your hands claw at your face, covering your mouth as the sound pours out of you.

He tries to stop you, grabs your wrists, tries to still you, but you thrash, the agony too big to contain.

“Why?” you scream. “How could you think that of me?”

“Y/N” he gasps, fighting to hold you, finally pulling you hard against his chest. Holding you there. Anchoring you. “Stop”

“I love you” you sob, fists knotted in his shirt. “I’ve never loved anyone but you. Nothing…nothing will ever change that.”

“You loved who I used to be” he whispers, his voice breaking as it brushes the crown of your head.

“No.” The word snaps out of you, sharp and sudden. You shove him back, hands pushing hard at his chest. “Don’t. You don’t get to say that.”

Your breath comes fast, jagged, lungs burning as you force the words out. “When I saw you on that table, I thought I was going to die. I just wanted you back.” Your voice cracks but you don’t stop. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. And then you woke up, and I swore I would make sure you knew, every moment of every day, that I love you.”

“Y/N” he exhales, helpless, as you struggle through tears, hyperventilating around every syllable.

“No” you cut in again. “Stop talking. Just listen for a second”

You grab his hand, the one latticed in scars, he instinctively tries to pull away but you refuse to let him. Your grip tightens until he finally gives up.

“I adore these scars” you say fiercely. “Every day I look at them and thank the heavens because they are what brought you back to me. You survived. You’re here.” Your thumb presses into his palm, grounding him. “You came home. To me. To your family.”

His breath stutters. A single tear slips free, tracking slowly down his cheek, catching in the uneven scar tissue before falling.

“You’re beautiful” you whisper. “You survived. I love every last inch of you.”

You lift your hand, hesitate, just for a heartbeat, before pressing your palm to his cheek.

He doesn’t pull away.

The skin beneath your fingers is soft. Textured. Rippled and puckered. But real. Your chest aches as your heart swells, the sensation of him, alive, warm, here, feeling impossibly precious beneath your touch.

“Please” you breathe. “Kento. I love you.”

“I love you too” he gasps.

He surges forward suddenly, arms wrapping around you with desperate force, pulling you flush against him. Your face presses into the scarred side of his throat, breath catching against warm skin.

“Please don’t leave me…” he chokes. “I don’t want a divorce—”

“I don’t want one either” you whisper, lips brushing his scarred flesh. “I thought I had no other option. I love you, and the pain of watching you fall out of love with me hurt too much.”

“I never did” he breathes fiercely, holding you tighter. “I never stopped loving you.”

This was just a random dream for my delusional brain which refuses to acknowledge Nanami's death! IT DIDN'T HAPPEN!

Please don't steal, reproduce, feed into AI, or repost without my consent.

Now you both switched your matching class schedules for early morning and late night commutes. Kento hates overtime because it takes away from the already limited time he has with you. Long gone are the days of meeting after class and studying until dawn. If the world didn't revolve around money, Kento would have quit to spend all his time with his best friend.

You do make it a point to meet at a new restaurant or cafe at least once a week. He cherishes those moments. Committing your slowly changing features to memory. Your hair wasn't down your back anymore, the soft layers sweep over your shoulders. Kento's fingertips ghost over your blushed cheeks as he tucks curly strands behind your ear.

You never do it yourself before you eat, which leads to you complaining about your hair getting everywhere. It's routine for him to help you out since you can't remember to tie up your hair. Or rather, you choose not to.

Your eyes aren't as wide with enthusiasm anymore. Soft dark lines that can't be completely covered by makeup curve under your eyes. Today they were more noticeable than usual.

The eye bags you complain about don't make him think any less of your stunning appearance. Instead, he asks if you've been getting enough sleep. You always answer the same way.

"I try, but I get distracted."

Kento knows that means you spent hours watching funny videos or you read those books with some couple embracing each other on the cover. He heard all about these mostly provocative stories after you read them. It was impossible to hide the blush that would form on his cheeks when you described each detail.

He shakes the sultry positions from his head when he sees you let out a dramatic yawn.

"Perhaps you need a new duvet set. Maybe some new candles as well. A calming environment makes all the difference."

Today, and only for you, he breaks his usual routine. Instead of going your separate ways before dawn, he offers to drive you to the mall.

Kento is the most patient person you can go shopping with. He holds items you've selected with care. His attitude never souring no matter how heavy the shopping basket gets. His palm ghosts over your lower back through groups of other shoppers.

He smells each candle you hold to his pointed nose. His large frame leans over so you don't have to reach high. Kento sniffs and looks up at you over the rim of his glasses.

White Linen & Sage. You both agree that the scent is perfect. Calming. Not overwhelming. A presence that makes a lonely room feel like a full house of warmth.

It reminds him of you.

You settle on a duvet set that "matches your vibe." Kento says the expression with an unparalleled seriousness that has you laughing loud enough for other shoppers to peek their head over to aisle 8 where you two stand. He stands proud in the aisle, waiting for you to finish your bout of laughter.

You finally didn't look like the overworked woman he would meet throughout the week. You look like the 20 year old girl with glitter on her eyes and a permanent smile etched on her lips, even when you hadn't gotten the grade you wanted.

Kento helps you carry your new items to your apartment. You didn't want him to pay, but he handed his card to the cashier as you rustled through your bottomless bag for your cash.

He freezes in the doorway when you ask him to come inside.

"It's Friday. Let's crack open some wine."

You both put the fresh sheets on the bed. A new painting hangs perfectly straight on your living room wall. He lights one of your many new candles. The smell wafts in your apartment, joining the scent of the sweet red moscato wafting from your wine glasses.

Some rerun of a sitcom echoes in the room. There was no choice but to be shoulder-to-shoulder and thigh-to-thigh on your small couch. Kento is conscious of how he can feel the warmth radiating from you.

The hair on his arms tickles as the smooth skin of your fingers slide over inside of his forearms. Fingernails delicately drag over the prominent veins that decorate the back of his hand to the crook of his elbow. You pretend to not notice the way his breath shifts with each movement of your fingers.

"I didn't take you for the ticklish type," Your voice is breathy as you slip your hand over his thighs straining against his beige slacks.

"Might be the wine." Kento forces himself to meet your low-lidded gaze.

"That's it?"

"It's possible there are other… Causes."

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the fact that Kento's large hand suddenly warmed your own thigh. His thumb slowly circles your bare skin before his fingertips stop at the hem of your shorts.

Pleading hazel eyes meet your own. A nod is all he needs to continue his trek upwards.

Kento realizes then that some things don't need to be said, but rather shown.