#and yeah. i’ll just buy melons to be my high snacks from now on

[fingertipsmp3]

I was going to take a tolerance break starting today but I have some grapes that need eating and there’s no way I’m devouring half a thing of grapes sober

[hqprotectionsquad]

𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔, 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 - 𝒃𝒐𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖

⤷ 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕. ⤷ 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒋𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝒛𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔, 𝒊'𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 ⤷ 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒊𝒄 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

word count: 1541

college!reader x pro volleyball player!bokuto

“Hey, what are you doing tonight?” You aren’t a stranger to Koutarou’s unexpected phone calls. For anyone else, you’ll put them on silent, but for your best friend? He’s got his own ringtone. 

That self-indulgent weirdo set it to his own voice saying “hey, hey, hey,” as if he doesn’t hear himself yell that enough when he’s in his volleyball matches.

You shift the phone from one ear to another, as you fold clean laundry. “Nothing, why?”

“I’ll come over,” his hopeful voice resounds.

“You go to school an hour away by train. You know you’re crazy, right?” You say this, but you already know he’s on his way to the station to buy his ticket.

“Crazy for you, yeah.” No matter what, your cheeks will always flare up whenever he says some cheesy line that goes straight for the arteries. It’s like he’s trying to stop your heart or something like that.

“Shut up,” you pause to laugh. “I’ll see you later.”

You set your phone off to the side and continue folding the clothes that lie on your bed. He’s been the same since high school. His ear is attached to his phone. Had he not been training to become a professional volleyball player, you were sure that he’d love the opportunity to be a broadcaster or really anything that would suit his overflowing charisma. He uses that charisma to get the crowd on its feet at volleyball games, but outside of the court, he’s constantly calling other people. It’s weird because, in a time where people prefer digital words over voices from a distance, Koutarou is steadfast.

You don’t usually pick up your phone, and he knows that. Most of the time, you’re studying for an upcoming exam, even if it’s a week and a half in the future. Koutarou seems like he’s got too much time on his hands even though he’s taking a full course load of classes. Whenever you’re heard on the other end, he takes it as a win. You’re a train ride away, two hours of commuting in total, but you’re worth it, says Bokuto.

There’s a nagging sensation in your head, knowing he must be only talking to you because Akaashi has plans with whomever tonight, as he says he does on Fridays. (Even that seems a bit far-fetched, but you know that he is working his way to becoming a butterfly since college has begun.) He must be doing this for pity, considering your lack of response most of the time. Well, is it really your fault that you’re prioritizing your education?

You’re thankful for him though. Without him, you don’t really know who else would check up on you.

Soon enough, he’s texting you to buzz him into the building and you meet him by the door, grinning when you see that owl face on the other side of the glass.

“I told you to just buzz me in! There’s no need for you to come down!” He exclaims when you open the door for him, shifting so he can get inside.

“Kind of looks like you need help, what’s this all for?” You eye the paper and plastic bags he holds in the crook of his arms and the handles of some between his fingers. You can’t even properly give him a hug because of all of the bags. You reach for the ones in his arms and he takes a step back with a laugh.

“Just things for you, and since they are for you, there is no need for you to help me out.”

By the time you're fiddling for your keys in your pocket in front of your dorm room, Bokuto is itching to reveal what he's bright for you. He keeps fidgeting when you wiggle the key into the slot and finally, you get it.

“What are you so excited to show me, ‘Tarou?”

He dumps the contents of each bag on top of your bed with the largest smile. Piles of junk food form stiff peaks and you can't help but to laugh. “Is that ice cream?”

“Yeah, I kind of forgot about that,” he mentions as he scratches his head. “It should still be okay.” He opens the fridge as if it’s his own and stashes the two pints to freeze. “We’re having a movie night!”

“Aw, Bo,” you slip your arms around his waist to settle into a hug and look up at him, “thank you.”

Bokuto grins, but he soon covers his mouth with his hand. His cheeks are beginning to flood with color and gosh, that's embarrassing right now. “Don't thank me yet, we haven't started the movie.”

“You know, are you even allowed to eat any of these things? They've got, like, a thousand calories and preservatives.” You're undeterred when Bokuto lets go first to reach for a plastic-wrapped melon pan.

“Well, what they don't know doesn't hurt them!”

“It’ll hurt your body when you have practice,” you wonder out loud and Bokuto shushes you, with a finger perpendicular to his lips.

“No need to say anything like that.” Bokuto’s not planning to eat the whole convenience store, but he’d be lying if he wasn't going to eat part of it. Still with the melon pan in one hand, he opens one of the bags of chips, sighing with delight once he pops one of the chips into his mouth. He hardly gets the chance to indulge, but for you, he guesses he’ll have to make an exception. Just for you, of course.

He’s on your bed, shoving snacks to one side so you both can sit on the other. After digging through your closet, you throw a blanket into his face and you can hear the mumbles of his gratitude. “Sorry.” 

“Sure you were sorry.” Bokuto sticks a tongue out as he stretches the fabric across his body and waves you over. “Hurry up, (Y/N). I brought us Big Hero Six.”

“Again?” You slide in real close, just like you always do. “You know that you cry every time Tadashi dies—”

“(Y/N), you always have to spoil it!”

“We’ve watched it together at least four times. God knows how many times you’ve watched it in total.” Your eyes roll along with your statement. “Okay, start it up.”

Bokuto hits a button on the remote that begins unveiling the opening credits. It’s an incredibly small screen, and you’re sure Bokuto has a larger TV at his own house, but he loves being with you at your dorm. He says it’s something that reminds him of a separate life he could’ve had. He’s already living the Disney life that anyone wishes for — a place on a volleyball team in one of the top leagues of Japan, something he’s wanted since he was born — yet he yearns for a life everyone has. He wants a regular college experience, but to him, college will be a piece of paper declaring his knowledge on a subject. It won't mean much when he's on the court. You bet his only reason for being in college is to use the gym, even though he trains with his professional team as well.

You meld into one body, your arms hang on his torso and your head on his shoulder. His arm snakes around your shoulders and squeezes you tight to him. Is it weird that you do this with your best friend? It’s never not been like this.

“Bo, can I talk to you?”

“But Hiro’s about to go to San Fransokyo Institute of Technology with Tadashi.” He pouts when he looks down at you. He presses the pause button and turns to you, taking your hand in his. “Alright, alright. What’s wrong, (Y/N)?”

“Why do you assume something’s wrong?”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be wrong. I’m just guessing! By your tone of voice.” There’s a smile on his face that is so bright. You can’t help but to feel happy when you see him.

“Koutarou, why do you bother to hang out with me and text me, when I barely do the same thing?” You leave your hand in his grasp, wondering what would happen if you placed it back into your lap.

“You know you’re one of my best friends, right?” Bokuto chuckles. “I go through the bothering because I care too much to let you go. You’re one of my favorite people, I don’t care if you won’t speak to me on your own. I’ll keep trying for the both of us.” He plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you, Bo. I’ll try harder.”

“You don’t have to, not if you don’t want to. But the idea of you trying warms my heart.” He lets go of your hand to clutch at his chest dramatically. A hand sails to his shoulder. “Hey, what did you have to hit me for?” He yelps.

“Shut up, let’s watch the movie.” And you can’t help but to grin with a happy sigh as you settle back into Bokuto’s embrace. This is a moment you’ll remember forever and you’ll keep on wishing on the stars for Bokuto. He deserves all the wishes because he shines brighter than the stars themselves.

[mtltranscripts]

Season 1: Episode 1-The Curse of Dethklok

Summary: The band is sponsored by coffee and also accidentally maim their chef.

Characters: Dethklok, Jean Pierre,

Special Thanks: @offdensmith​ for helping out! <3

Pastebin  

JEAN PIERRE: I am a gear in the hands of the clock. I fear not my mortality.

NATHAN: Approach us. 

JEAN PIERRE: Everything to your liking, my lords?

PICKLES: Are you aware of the fate of our last restaurant helicopter chef?

JEAN PIERRE: His face was-

MURDERFACE: His face was smashed!

JEAN PIERRE: Yes, I know.

TOKI: He slipped his hand and face on the slohovercroft.

SKWISGAAR: Holbercraft...

TOKI: Hov…

SKWISGAAR: Homo...

PICKLES: Hovercraft.

TOKI: Hold me...

SKWISGAAR: [unintelligible attempt at saying hovercraft]

TOKI: [unintelligible attempt at saying hovercraft]

PICKLES: Hovercraft.

SKWISGAAR: [unintelligible attempt at saying hovercraft]

TOKI: [unintelligible attempt at saying hovercraft]

PICKLES: Hovercraft. They’re trying to tell you that a guy got his face smashed in with a hovercraft. That’s what they’re trying to tell you.

JEAN PIERRE: Yes, I know.

TOKI: And then, from the sorrow...fatoo! He blow he brain in.

SKWISGAAR: He blow he brain out.

TOKI: Whatever.

SKWISGAAR: Out.

TOKI: It make a great album cover.

SKWISGAAR: Yeah that-yeah all of our chefs they has died a horrible death. What of that’s do you think?

JEAN PIERRE: I would rather have my brains scooped out with a melon baller, than to miss the opportunity to deliver the various cheese snacks to my beloved Dethklok.

PILOT: Sorry, my lords, we’re chewing through a few thousand doves up here! Don’t worry, these rotors will grind them into paste in no time!

JEAN PIERRE: From the prime minister of Norway. There are several cases. The finest wine-

NATHAN: No! We never drink before a show! Never!

MURDERFACE: Well, I’ll just have a little drink!

TOKI: Me too!

SKWISGAAR: Me too!

PICKLES: Me too!

NATHAN: Me too.

 ♪ Do anything for Dethklok ♪

 ♪ Do anything for Dethklok ♪

 ♪ Do anything for Dethklok ♪

 ♪ Do anything for Dethklok ♪

 ♪ Do anything for Dethklok ♪

♪ Dethklok' Dethklok Dethklok Dethklok ♪

♪ Skwisgaar Skwigelf, taller than a tree ♪

♪ Toki Wartooth, not a bumble bee ♪

♪ William Murderface, Murderface, Murderface ♪

♪ Pickles the Drummer, doodily doo ding dong doodily doodily doo ♪

♪ Nathan Explosion ♪

REPORTER ONE: Live from Batsfjord, Norway, where over 300,000 fans have traveled to the Arctic Circle to see the legendary metal band Dethklok perform just one song.

REPORTER TWO: Surprisingly the song itself is a jingle, a coffee jingle. Never before have so many people travelled so far for such a short song. 

REPORTER THREE: A jingle for international coffee moguls, the Duncan Hills Coffee Corporation. Is Dethklok selling out? “No!” says band frontman, Nathan Explosion.

NATHAN: We’re here to make coffee metal. We will make everything metal. Blacker than the blackest black, times infinity.

REPORTER TWO: They’re called pain waivers. Fans are literally signing their life away, releasing Dethklok from any and all liability.

FAN ONE: My eye got tore out and force fed to me at a show. Dethklok rules!

FAN TWO: In London some dude chopped off my fingers and threw ‘em up onstage. Murderface rolled them up and smoked them! Murderface! 

REPORTER ONE: Dark clouds have rolled in. Static electricity’s in the air. Wait! Wait! Wait a minute! It's Dethklok! It's Dethklok!

 PILOT: Dethklok rolling.

♪ Do you folks like coffee? ♪

♪ Real coffee ♪

♪ From the hills of Colombia? ♪

♪ The Duncan Hills will wake you ♪

♪ From a thousand deaths ♪

♪ A cup of blackened blood ♪

♪ Dying, dying ♪

♪ You’re dying for a cup ♪

♪ Guatemala blend ♪

♪ Ethiopian ♪

♪ French vanilla roast ♪

♪ Dying, dying ♪

♪ You’re dying for a cup ♪

♪ Prepare for the ultimate flavor ♪

♪ You're gonna get some now ♪

♪ And scream for your cream ♪

♪ Duncan Hills, Duncan Hills, Duncan Hills coffee ♪

SENATOR STAMPINGSTON: As you can see, Dethklok is no laughing matter. They’re the world’s greatest cultural force. The short time since the Duncan Hill Coffee Batsfjord Massacrefest, every other coffee company has been obliterated. Completely blown out of the water.

GENERAL CROZIER: Freaks.

SENATOR STAMPINGSTON: These freaks as you call them are currently worth billions. Gentlemen: Skwisgaar Skwigelf, taller than a tree. Toki Wartooth, not a bumblebee. William Murderface, Murderface, Murderface. Pickles the Drummer, doodily doo ding dong doodily doodily doo. Nathan Explosion. I’m afraid that’s all we know, gentlemen.

CARDINAL RAVENWOOD: I will remind you again of the Sumerian artifacts. The resemblance is indisputable.

GENERAL CROZIER: If they’re the ones that we think they are, we should exterminate them immediately.

MISTER SALACIA: No. We wait.

NATHAN: Well, I don’t think all of our employees are cursed!

PICKLES: The chefs. The chefs.

NATHAN: Oh the chefs are cursed, yeah! Yeah.

PICKLES: Yeah.

TOKI: Actually, he’s stills alives. Yeah.

NATHAN: Well I mean he’ll be dead soon. That’s what I meant-that’s what I meant to say.

SKWISGAAR: Oh, come on. He could probably hear that. Oh wait no he can’t ‘cause he ain’t got no ears.

PICKLES: Hold on. It says here that keeping this guy alive is costing us $10,000 a day?

DETHKLOK: [overlapping exclamations]

MURDERFACE: Well here’s an idea. Why don’t we Yankee-doodle-dandy, you know, pull the plug? Kill ‘em!

PICKLES: Let’s just fire him. Look at him. He ain’t cooked a damn thing all day long. Let’s face it, he’s bringing me down.

SKWISGAAR: What is wrong with this dumb dildo, they give all all the free coffee in the world but no instruction on how to cook it!

TOKI: Whew, I might need to take five, six, personal days for all this griefs gonna have to do.

MURDERFACE: Aw, here we go again! You took two personal grieving days last week!

TOKI: Yeah, well, I was depressed about color. Don’t hassle me about thats, deals with thats-

MURDERFACE: You’re depressed?! You’re depressed! I’m fat! I’m the fat one!

TOKI: Come on-

MURDERFACE: Yeah, I’m fat!

SKWISGAAR: Aw, come on, you’re like a male model-

MURDERFACE: We know that! The one good thing about Jean Pierre being dead is that maybe I won’t eat so much, and lose these flabby deth-handles!

TOKI: No!

MURDERFACE: No, I’m fat!

TOKI: Welp, I’m starting to get a hungries, but it looks like we starves.

PICKLES: Well, great. What are we supposed to do now?

TOKI: What’s this place called?

SKWISGAAR: This is I believes called food libraries.

TOKI AND SKWISGAAR: [overlapping saying “Food library”]

PICKLES: It’s called a grocery store, ya douchebags! I’m sorry about “douchebags” I got-I got low blood sugar. 

NATHAN: Alright, here’s the deal. We have to do our own shopping so we can make our own dinner like regular jack-offs do. Now you’re all in charge of putting together one dish, and don’t just buy booze! That ain’t food!

MURDERFACE: What do you mean “booze ain’t food?” I’d rather chop off my ding-dong than admit that!

TOKI: You’d rather chop off your ding-dong than not drink?

MURDERFACE: Yeah!

TOKI: Wowee!

MURDERFACE: Hey grandma, is there olives in it?

OLD LADY ONE: In what?

MURDERFACE: Lemon tart wrinkled tits! Geeze!

OLD LADY ONE: Oh!

MURDERFACE: Good! Then it’s pee-pee time!

PICKLES: Hey, chief, this stuff good for soup?

WORKER ONE: No-

PICKLES: Ahh! That’s a yes!

TOKI: Who is walnuts?

SKWISGAAR: Ah, Toki, look inside of your basket. Guess whats you’re in such a crappy mood you have lady’s tampons inside of it and you buy them for yourself! Go have a conversation with all the ladies and tell them your problem!

TOKI: You lady, Skwisgaar!

SKWISGAAR: No I’m not!

NATHAN: Two cups of rice. Brutal.

PICKLES: Okay, hold on now, so you’re telling me that you put these little guys in boiling water and they shriek and they turn red and they die?

WORKER TWO: Yes, sir.

PICKLES: That is the most metal thing I ever heard in my whole life. High five!

NATHAN: Price check! Clean up aisle six! Rotted body landslide!

SWKSIGAAR: Oh that’s greats!

NATHAN: And don’t forget our special sale on every bone broken chicken! Hurry!

SKWISGAAR: Go get ‘em, Nathan!

NATHAN: Enjoy our tasty Hammer Smashed Face! Uh, aisle three!

SKWISGAAR: I loves to laugh. Hi.

OLD LADY TWO: Hi.

SKWISGAAR: Guess what? You are a GMILF. That is a grandmother that I would like to-

PICKLES: See, I told you guys we don’t need no chef!

NATHAN: Put in the ingredients into that thing there.

TOKI: Oh no, we leaves all the food at the food place!

NATHAN: What?!

MURDERFACE: Jean PIerre! Jean Pierre, cook something! Come on don’t be a dick, be a dude!

NATHAN: Yeah, come on!

SKWISGAAR: Yeah be a dude, don’t be a dick!

NATHAN: Make us some food!

DETHKLOK: [overlapping]

PICKLES: He can’t hear you, he can’t hear you! It’s over! By the power of all that is evil, I command you to awaken, and make me a sandwich!

MURDERFACE: There’s only one thing left to do...kill ourselves!

SKWISGAAR: Dudes, we would, like, have to sew him back together to get him to cook for us!

TOKI: Yeah, but we such screw ups that he would be sewn back together wrong.

 NATHAN: Whoa! That's a good song title.

♪ Sewn back together wrong ♪

♪ Back together Sewn back together wrong ♪

♪ Back together Sewn back together wrong ♪

♪ Back together sewn ♪

[satorisa]

Lift the Veil - Chapter 8

Lift the Veil - Chapter 8: Santa Fé

Rating: T

Summary: After living in Tokyo for the past six years, she decides to head back to Azumano to escape the big city. However, she now has to face everything that she tried to flee from all those years ago. How exactly will she fare when the pages of a long forgotten book start turning once more?

Read On: FanFiction.Net, Archive of Our Own

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Chapter 8 – Santa Fé

Will he take this grand delusion? Add his love to make his own conclusion?

With the morning sunlight filtering in through the blinds, I stirred awake. After a long night of catching up with Riku, we had fallen asleep in the middle of a forgettable conversation, practically pushing through the drowsiness that had settled in the moment we got back just like kids defying their imposed bedtime as an act of false maturity.

Next to me, Riku was fast asleep with her back to me. She had her head nestled between her pillow and the sheets that she had pulled up to almost cover her face. I wondered how she could breathe under the stuffiness of the covers, or even bear the heat for that matter, and decided to poke her to see her reaction. She grumbled, slightly rolling around before disappearing under her sheets, clearly one of those people who could stand, and probably enjoy, the terrible heat of summer while exercising.

Carefully getting out of Riku’s bed, I headed downstairs to grab some water for my parched throat. Still half-awake, I entered the kitchen, wholly oblivious to my surroundings.

“Good morning, Harada-san.”

I let out a startled shriek before turning around to see Hiwatari at the dining table practically covered in paperwork. He sat in front of his laptop, a black island amidst the sea of white, with his attention on the document resting on his keyboard, skimming through it with a pen ready in his hands.

“What are you doing here at—” I peered at the clock on the microwave. “—nine in the morning?”

“Sunday brunch.”

Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, I took a huge gulp from it before approaching Hiwatari in confusion. “Why?”

“Your sister had invited me over for a meal, and I’m finally taking her up on her offer.”

“I thought she was talking about a home-cooked meal.”

“As did I, but she insisted that I come and that she pay for my meal, especially since I’ve been babysitting you so often.”

I groaned. “Her words or yours?”

“Both.” Frowning, I took another sip of water. “Daisuke’s also accompanying us today, so don’t worry too much.”  

Nodding and, becoming slightly tired from standing up, I took the seat across from Hiwatari, placing my water bottle in my lap. “Why’re you so early though?”

“I had some work to do and wanted a change of scenery. I’m sorry to have startled you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I just…didn’t expect to see you this early in the morning.”

“Hence why you look like you’ve just gotten out of bed.”

“Yeah…”

His words took a while to finally hit me. And when they did, I became painfully aware of the possibly messy state of my hair and the fact that I didn’t have a bra on. He didn’t notice my sudden self-consciousness. And, even if he did, he still had his attention on his work.

“I’ll leave you then…”

I was still kind of tired, so I wanted to head back to my room and relax in bed until I had to get ready. Leaving before this got awkward was just a bonus.

“No need to leave if you’re worried about your appearance,” he spoke up. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

I paused, processing his last statement. Hiwatari’s eyes widened, only then realizing the weight of his words, before turning to me with a distraught expression. “Harada-san, I—”

“—should leave,” I interrupted, finishing his sentence for my own sake. I quickly got up, chair scraping against the tile, and marched upstairs with the half-empty water bottle in tow, more than ready to pass out in my bed.

Dammit, Hiwatari.

After freshening up and changing into a casual dress, I headed downstairs to see everyone gathered around the dining table. Several mugs of steaming coffee and a bowl of honeydew cubes replaced the papers once strewn on its surface.

“Good morning, slowpoke,” Riku greeted from her seat. “You’re still as fashionably last as ever.”

“Better late than never, as they always say.” I plopped a melon cube into my mouth. Yum. “So, where are we headed today?”

“The Bar,” Riku answered. “It’s a high-end restaurant that opened up nearby.”

“Isn’t it considered cheating if you’re eating at a restaurant you don’t work at?”

Riku shot me a look, and I laughed. Everyone quickly tied up their conversations before heading to our destination. On the way there, Riku told us that the chefs at the place she manages recommended that she drop by once, so she decided to bring people along with her. The more, the merrier, she reasoned.

When we arrived, they seated us immediately. I browsed the menu, gasping at the absurd prices for what seemed like a relatively normal American brunch. Even the sides and beverages were expensive. Next to me, my mother and father spoke in hushed tones about what to get, appalled at the numbers printed next to such sparse descriptions.

“So, Risa,” Daisuke started, “I heard that Takeshi invited you for dinner today.”

“How do you know about that?”

“He called me yesterday about it, sounding pretty excited.”

I smiled behind my menu, hoping that no one would notice. Despite abhorring his presence when we were young, Saehara started to grow on me as we worked together and hearing that he was stoked over having me for dinner made me happy. Not that I would admit it though; all I had to do was play it cool, and no one would suspect at thing.

“He doesn’t need to be that happy over it,” I covered. “At least I can finally meet the woman crazy enough to put up with him. But seeing him? I don’t know.”

Riku laughed on my other side, and even Hiwatari looked slightly entertained by my jest. My parents, however, were starting to complain about the absurd menu.

“Didn’t Takeshi invite you too, Satoshi?” Daisuke asked.

“Yeah.”

“Aren’t weekends the time to get away from work?” Riku joked.

“Only Saehara and I are actually coworkers. Hiwatari-san just so happens to be there.”

“Like a statue, right?”

For whatever reason, she found her comment absolutely hilarious. Eventually, she calmed down before excusing herself to the bathroom, allowing me to finally pounce on Daisuke.

“So, when are you popping the question?” I asked, watching the man’s face turn the same shade as his hair. Even my parents silenced themselves to hear his answer.

“On our upcoming trip to Zurich…”

I squealed while my parents clapped, saying something about it finally happening before fussing over the menu once more. Daisuke’s blush only reddened from the sudden attention.

“Was it a wise decision to share that with Harada-san?” Hiwatari asked.

“I’m not that bad at keeping secrets!”

“Can…can we change the topic before she comes back?” Daisuke stammered.

We effortlessly transitioned into talking about what everyone was planning on ordering, and Riku rejoined the conversation without suspecting a thing. She also helped our parents finally choose something, and the waiter conveniently dropped by at that very moment, holding their notepad and pen with a patient smile. They wrote down predictable and fitting orders until they reached the last person in our party: Hiwatari.

“Coffee and the Belgian waffle,” he said, returning the menu to the waiter. Riku and Daisuke wondered if he was okay while my parents pestered him about taking better care of his sugar levels before talking about his overall terrible health in general.

But I could only stare at Hiwatari effortlessly assuring them that he was fine, wondering why he had to order that of all things today.

During my second year in high school on the annual school trip, Hiwatari had taken a couple of days off to vacation with me, Riku, and Daisuke. During the day, he followed his own itinerary since he didn’t want the teachers seeing him. At night, he snuck us out after curfew and watched over us exploring the city.

On the last day of our trip, Riku and Daisuke had a date, leaving me and Hiwatari in the heart of Tokyo, navigating through the hordes of people ready to experience the city’s night life. Not that we were legally able to enjoy it to the fullest, but I appreciated not having to spend time with the couple. And I was alone with Hiwatari on some faux-date of sorts.

“You’re a member of law enforcement, but you’re letting me break my curfew on a school field trip without batting an eyelash,” I teased as he led me through the crowd.

“I’m off the clock, so I’m currently just an innocent bystander caught up in a girl’s impromptu whirlwind.”

Lightly slapping his shoulder in response to his joke, we continued our trek though the unknown until we arrived at the First Avenue Tokyo Station. I bought some souvenirs, along with some snacks for my own personal enjoyment, while Hiwatari binged on kit-kats.

“Is that seriously why we came all the way over here?” I asked, eyeing his bag filled with assorted flavors ranging from the usual milk chocolate to…soy sauce?

“If I wanted to just buy this, I wouldn’t have brought you along.”

“Then why—”

Hiwatari grabbed my wrist, leading us back to the bustling streets and through the crowds until we found ourselves in front of a quaint café that was miraculously still open. I walked in, practically fawning over everything while Hiwatari trailed behind looking uninterested. We sat at a table near a crackling fireplace, and I practically melted from pure bliss in my seat.

A waitress came by, placing some menus on the table before skipping off to another table. After looking through one of them for several minutes, I had to choose between the honey toast and the pancakes, but I knew I had to decide; Hiwatari never allowed me to indulge excessively when he paid on my behalf.

“I’m torn,” I softly cried.

“Well, put yourself back together because you can only choose one.”

I pouted. “Why are you so mean?”

“Risa, this is to ensure that your eating-habits don’t lead me to bankruptcy.”

Groaning, I returned to the menu, deciding on the more expensive option to pettily chip away at Hiwatari’s budget. Wait, what would he get here? The menu was filled with desserts, and his deep appreciation for the saccharine things in life only extended to kit-kats and certain types of wagashi.

“The Belgian waffle with coffee sounds nice.”

“Since when were you a Belgian waffle person?”

“Since forever,” he deadpanned. “Duh.” He paused, letting his joke linger uncomfortably before continuing. “Actually, it sounds good. And it’s one of the simpler items on the menu.”

“Leave it to Satoshi to be the resident bore.”

“If I was that boring, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

I laughed. “True, true.”

The waitress came by, taking our orders before spectacularly grabbing our menus and heading to the kitchen. Hiwatari shifted in his seat, slightly irked by our waitress’ chipper attitude. I, on the other hand, quite liked it; she perfectly complemented the happy atmosphere. Then again, Hiwatari would never visit a place like this of his own accord. And if he was in the mood to eat out, we often found ourselves at cheap places or the shady ones that were surprisingly very good (and cheap.)

Sometimes, he was too nice for his own damn good.

“Hey, Satoshi, thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome.” He shot me a genuine smile, causing my heart to skip a beat, before asking how I liked the school trip.

At the beginning of my second year in high school, I realized that I had feelings for Hiwatari and I, alone with him in a Ferris wheel pod, accidentally confessed to him. After we both briefly agreed to not let this get in the way of our friendship, he started to tease me, and we continued as if nothing had happened.

Looking back on it now, I was probably desperate. I held onto Hiwatari because of his compassion that conveniently filled Dark’s void. My love for Dark started as mere infatuation for a beautiful man that only grew because of the possibility of something unfamiliar and seemingly unattainable until I started to know him and began to genuinely love him for who he was.

And, after Dark had disappeared, Hiwatari became my pillar of support because he was the only one who really knew. Daisuke and Riku had each other, living the happy ending that they rightfully deserved, leaving me to come to terms with everything by myself. (Sure, I had the support of family and friends back then but they didn’t understand. And no amount of explanation from my end, especially since I had gotten tired of repeating everything over and over again, could help them come close to even remotely understanding.)

Dark had given me the confidence I needed to break out of Riku’s imposing shadow, and yet I found myself in it once more after Kokuyoku was sealed. Hiwatari had, eventually, granted me that same comfort, and I was finally, to some degree, able to finally get through my days alright.

Maybe Hiwatari just pitied me. He saw someone, broken and lost just like himself, and some self-righteous pride told him that he had to do something. Or maybe, just maybe, he was in the same boat as me, clinging to me in desperation for the love and attention denied from him for so long.

“Why Belgian waffles?” I asked him after everyone went their separate ways. Riku left for work while Daisuke accompanied my parents back home, leaving me and Hiwatari to pass the time before dinner.

He shrugged. “They’re light and go well with fruit.” He paused a bit, and I wondered if he just didn’t want to talk anymore or if he was finding something to talk about. “Why didn’t you order French toast? I thought it’s your favorite.”

“It is my favorite, but I wasn’t going to pay that much for it! My fruit salad and orange juice were expensive enough.”

We headed towards a florist to buy some flowers for our weekly visitations. I got a small bouquet filled with colorful flowers while Hiwatari bought a bushel of baby breaths despite my insistence on getting something slightly more extravagant. Sighing, I plucked the white and blue flowers out of my bouquet before arranging them amongst the petite blooms.

“This is excessive, Harada-san,” he said as he started to pull them out.

“No, it’s not,” I retorted, refusing the flowers he tried handing back to me.

He sighed, putting the flowers back amongst the baby breaths and grumbling a thank you; he knew better than trying to engage me when I was being stubborn.

At the cemetery, we both borrowed a tub and ladle each and bought a pack of incense at the small shrine. I followed Hiwatari to Rio Hikari’s grave, silently watching as he cleaned it and offered the flowers. When he started praying, I joined him. And when I finished, I told him I’d head to Grandma Rika’s grave, leaving when I saw him slightly bob his head.

When I arrived, I tidied up her grave before offering a prayer. And when I was done talking to Grandma Rika, I rested by her stone, pulling out a book (Asleep by Banana Yoshimoto) before slowly drifting away from my reality with the words on the page and the faint rolling of the waves in the distance.

It was my second day of being afflicted with the flu. Riku helped me in the morning before leaving me in the hands of our capable staff. I was too tired to read a book, let alone absent-mindedly watch TV, so I weaved through periods of blissful napping and conscious physical discomfort. When Riku returned later that day, she placed the notes and assignments I missed on my desk before keeping me company.

After dinner and Riku’s insistence that I rest despite having done that for the whole day, she turned off the lights and left. Compared to when I had woken up that morning, I had some energy, so I stayed up, staring at the ceiling hoping that my boredom would, eventually, lull me to sleep.

And that was when I heard a knock on my balcony door.

I saw a disheveled Hiwatari holding a box of chocolates and, using what little strength I possessed, I trudged over to let him in. I collapsed on him after opening the door, which he closed behind him before helping me back to my bed.

“How much time do you have to fill an empty box of chocolates with fruit?” I groaned. It was a terrible joke he once played when I was sick, but it had eventually become a tradition of sorts for us to bring each other boxes of chocolate filled with fruit whenever the other was sick.

“Who said that there’re fruits inside?”

“The fact that you brought it means there’re fruits inside.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoshi, I’m more concerned about you entering my house through my balcony than the identity crisis of that chocolate box.”

“No one answered the door.”

“It’s late! Couldn’t you have waited until tomorrow?”

“I was worried.”

“I’m not going to die from the flu.” I sighed. “Anyways, make yourself at home.”

He went over to the pictures I had strewn across my wall, staring at the smiling faces in the moonlight. Some of them were pictures from school trips taken by Saehara, but most of them were shoddy photos I took during trips with family or while hanging out with friends. He then ambled over to my bookshelves, pulling out random books and flipping through them, probably skimming through my messy and probably rudimentary annotations.

“This room hasn’t changed much.”

“Of course; it’d cost too much to completely renovate it.”

“But we’ve changed, haven’t we?”

Illuminated by the full moon outside, his eyes glowed in the midst of the dim room, awaiting my answer.

“Yes, we have.”

He shot me a polite smile, and my heart melted. With my brain fuzzy, from both Hiwatari’s breath-taking handsomeness and the flu, I called him over, and he sat next to me wondering what I needed.

In my haze, I brought my hand to his face. His eyes widened, both in shock and fear, as he brought his hand up to mine, wondering whether or not to remove it.

“Risa, what—”

“Harada-san.”

My eyes fluttered open to see Hiwatari hovering over me. “I’ve cleaned up the grave for you,” he told me, offering his hand.

Closing the book resting on my lap, I thanked him, getting up without his help. I brushed the dirt off my clothes before following him out of the cemetery.

“Where are you going now?”

“Home,” I answered. “I need to freshen up before heading to Himawari-san’s apartment.”

“You’re welcome to do so at my apartment,” he offered.

“Excuse me?”

“Akane’s apartment is closer to mine. Logistically speaking, it’s more convenient.”

“You’ve been to her apartment before?” I asked, the surprise in my voice more noticeable than I wanted it to be. Him being on a first-name basis with her was one thing, but he’s also visited her in her apartment?

“Yes?” he answered in equal confusion, wondering why I was making a big deal of it. “Whenever we have group dinners, we go to her place since Takeshi lives in a studio. And, on occasion, I help her out if Takeshi is unavailable.”

“Ah.” Acceptable answer. It didn’t explain how the first-name basis thing started, but I suppose it came to happen because of the circumstances.

“I thought you’d pay more attention to my invitation than that.”

“Well, I didn’t think you could be friendly with women.”

“Meaning?”

“I don’t really know? I just didn’t think you’d actually get along decently with your friend’s girlfriend.”

“Aren’t I friendly with Riku though?”

“That’s different!”

“But I became her friend after she’d become Daisuke’s girlfriend.”

“But you knew her before. And…”

He nodded in understanding before we stopped at an intersection. “Well, this is where we head our separate ways if you wish to head home.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said. “I’m kind of curious to see what else I can dig up about you after being away for so long.”

From the corner of my eye, he shot me a discerning look, and I laughed before falling in step with him. I really should’ve just headed home instead, but I had already started digging my own hole. If I was already prying into his personal life, what could visiting his living space possibly do to me? (A lot, but that was a rhetorical question.)

“So, any other ladies you’ve been getting along with?” I asked.

“Not particularly.” He answered. “I went on dates with several people, but they never turned into anything serious. What about you?”

“Same.” Honestly, dating wasn’t something I wanted to do. Even after managing to shake off the phantoms of Azumano, I only went out on dates because my friends had found a guy they were sure was a good match for me or they needed someone else at a mixer or a double (triple, quadruple…) date. “Do you have any interesting stories to tell of your dating escapades?”

“Do you have any respect for some semblance of my privacy?”

“Nope!”

He sighed. “Well, the most interesting one I have is that I once dated Fukuda when she had recently moved back to Azumano after college.”

“You WHAT?!” I shot him a look of disgust and disbelief. Ristuko and Hiwatari? On a date? Together?

“Nothing came from it, so please calm down.”

“I’m sorry, but how the hell do you think I can calm down considering what you’ve just said?”

He shook his head before rolling his eyes. “After the second or third date, she said that it was awkward dating the guy her best friend once had a big crush on, and I found it awkward dating your best friend, so we both decided it would be best to stay platonic.”

“So you’re telling me you’re actually friends with Ritsuko? Like ‘OMG let’s, like, grab some coffee sometime, ‘kay?’ friends?”

From the corner of my eye, he cringed. “I wished you didn’t word it like that, but yes.”

“So, what’s up with the last-name basis?”

“We also found it awkward calling each other by our first names, so we settled on that.”

“Huh.” I stretched my hands behind me before looking up at the skyline. “I didn’t think the two of you would become friends. Then again, I also didn’t think you would ever become friends with Saehara, yet here you are.”

“Well, I don’t know if this is in the same vein, but no one thought you would come back to Azumano again, yet here you are. Anything’s possible is what I’m getting at, I suppose.”

He didn’t say anything else, and I decided to just let this conversation die before listening to the sound of the cars that passed by or the birds that perched on nearby trees: an idyllic Sunday afternoon. We finally arrived at his apartment complex, which so happened to be the one that he lived in before the Niwas took him in after Kei’s disappearance. I followed him up the stairs to apartment 214.

“Is this the same apartment?”

He shook his head. And when he opened the door, it was exactly how I imagined it to be. His living space had the bare basics: a sofa, a table, and a CRT TV. Hiwatari, despite himself, probably didn’t care about having a magazine-worthy interior chocked with unnecessary decorations. The room was also pretty clean, meaning that he probably spent little time there: Hiwatari’s surroundings often reflected his mind’s inner workings, so he often had papers and files strewn everything under his weird system of organization that was, honestly, absolute chaos. How he ever found anything was beyond me.

“Where’s you restroom?” I asked, possessed by a need to wash my face. I could feel some gunk on the side of my eyes, probably from the liner and eyeshadow that smudged during my nap. My face also felt caked from my foundation, and I wanted to redo my makeup for a casual dinner with friends.

“First door on your left in the hallway.”

Glad that I didn’t have to enter his room, I walked into the restroom, greeted by a mess. Well, it wasn’t dirty, but various toiletries were strewn across the relatively clean sink. I tidied up a bit to make space for my purse before staring at my reflection in the mirror, briefly mulling over the past several days before freshening up.

With a new and simple face of makeup, I headed back outside to see Hiwatari napping on his sofa. Feeling slightly hungry, I headed to the kitchen and started digging around for his kit-kat stash. I stumbled upon a cabinet full of liquor (of the high alcohol kind) before finally finding the candies, grabbing a sakura-matcha-flavored one (and a sake-flavored one for the hell of it) before grabbing a water bottle and settling down on the sofa next to him.

He probably had a long morning from working on his cases, so I let him nap away until we had an hour left before heading to Akane’s apartment. I shook him awake until he opened his eyes, blankly staring at me.

“You’ve got an hour.”

He nodded, getting up and ambling towards the bathroom. I returned to my phone, staring at the bright screen covered in Tsum Tsums. I finished up my game before shooting Saehara a message. Hiwatari then came out with his hair slightly tamed and his glasses on straight.

“Thank you tidying up.”

“Mhm.”

He retook his seat next to me, watching me as I toyed with my phone probably because he wasn’t fully awake yet. He finally came to thirty minutes before we “had” to be there, and he headed off into his room. He came out, having changed into a loose-fitting grey sweater from the decent button-up he had on from before.

“You looked fine.” I told him, getting up from the sofa and following him to the door.

“I was uncomfortable.”

We left for Akane’s apartment. Compared to the streets the night before, barely anyone was out. Most people had work or school tomorrow and opted to stay home to prepare for the week ahead.

“How nostalgic,” I whispered.

Hiwatari only nodded next to me. I actually liked the silence; it gave me time to think and reflect. After living in Tokyo, where moments of calm were few and far between, I finally came to cherish these wonderful breathers.

We finally arrived at Akane’s apartment, and I knocked. A muffled pattering of footsteps slightly crescendoed before stopping. The door opened, and I finally came face to face with the fabled Akane.

Holy hell, Saehara scored a cute one.

“Hello, Satoshi! T-kun’s already at the table!”

“Gluttonous pig,” he mumbled, and Akane laughed as Hiwatari walked inside, engaging with Saehara.

“And you must be Harada-san! T-kun’s told me so much about you!”

“Risa is fine,” I told her, trying not to laugh at Saehara’s cute nickname. “And really?”

“Yup!” I brushed past her, and she shut the door behind me. “He’s been talking about you nonstop since you’ve moved back.”

“Huh.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! He really enjoys your company!”

We finally arrived at the dining table to see the guys arguing in their seats, but they stopped when we sat at the table, making surprisingly polite and engaging conversation when we started eating. I was skeptically about Saehara’s claims about Akane’s cooking, but I finally believed him after my first bite of curry. Oddly enough, I didn’t think I would enjoy myself watching Saehara and Hiwatari talk this much; I had only seen the latter this amicable with Daisuke or me back in the day.

After we stuffed ourselves with plenty of leftovers to spare, the two men continued the argument they had earlier before derailing into another heated debate about the stock market. Akane asked if I wanted to help her tidy up, and I willingly retreated into the kitchen with as many dirty dishes as I could carry to escape from those nerds. She giggled while washing the dishes, glad that Takeshi was so animated.

“So, do you and Satoshi get along well?” she started.

Well, that was a terrible way to start a conversation.

“We were good friends in high school, but I wouldn’t say we get along as well now.”

“What happened?”

“I had this whole ‘run away from home’ thing and practically cut myself off from Azumano for six years.” I sheepishly admitted before changing the topic. “I still don’t get why Saehara’s so happy that I’m back though. It’s not exactly like we got along back then.”

“Maybe it’s because you two work in the same industry? And so happen to also work together?” she suggested. “And you can call him Takeshi, you know. It’d make his day.”

“I’ll think about it.”

We continued to wash the dishes, watching the men argue about another meaningless topic. I focused on the warm water running across my hands as I rinsed the soapy plates that Akane handed to me.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you leave?”

The answer to that question was simple, so disgustingly simple, that I almost didn’t mind answering her. It was a boy, a dumb and stupid boy, that drove me away from here, and I was a dumb and stupid girl that let him affect me that much. She would get her answer, and I wouldn’t have to hide it anymore. But the specifics? I didn’t know where to start with that.  

I stood there, frozen at the sink, while Akane patiently waited for my answer and, when she realized that I wasn’t responsive, called my name several times before I came back. After all the dishes were drying and the leftovers were packed away, Hiwatari suggested that we head home since we all had work the next day. Saehara tearfully bid us farewell while Akane handed us some of the leftovers while telling us to visit soon.

Back on the streets that surprisingly weren’t dead, I tried to block out the presence of the man accompanying me home. The rhythm of our footsteps kept my mind in check and occupied until we found ourselves stopped at a crosswalk.

“I’m sorry; I overheard your conversation,” Hiwatari confessed. “That…must’ve been a difficult question to answer.”

“It’s not a difficult question; I know the answer.” The light turned, and we started walking once more. “Sharing that answer is the hard part.”

He kept to himself as we passed by closed or closing shops. I watched the workers on the other side of the windows either dutifully working or enjoying the camaraderie amongst their coworkers after a long day of work.

“Do you think you’ll ever be able to talk about it?”

“No. I’d rather take it with me to my grave than let anyone know.”

Glancing at his face to see his reaction to my statement, I saw the slight frown and furrowed eyebrows that formed his concerned expression. I didn’t intrude and decided to leave him with his thoughts as he accompanied me back home.

I leaned in, softly kissing him before pulling away.

Only then did common sense finally return to me. Unable to face him, I averted my attention from his shocked face to the stitching on my covers, bracing myself for his reaction.

“I’m sorry,” I started. “I’m sick, and I really shouldn’t have done that. Well, I shouldn’t be doing that even if I am well! I mean, you don’t even like me that way, and I just did that without your consent and—”

“Risa, please look at me.”

I unwillingly met his eyes, greeted by an unfamiliar expression. How could someone look so serious yet gentle at the same time?

“Yes?” I whispered, terrified of the events to come.

“Risa, I like you.”

“I like you, too?” I responded in confusion. “We wouldn’t be friends if we didn’t like each other, silly.”

“No, Risa, I love you.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and I let out a forced laugh. What the hell was going on? “No, you don’t. You even said so yourself that you don’t like me that way.”

“Then, for both of our sakes, let’s pretend that I do.”

With my mouth ajar and eyes widened, I stared at him. He couldn’t possibly be implying what I think he was implying. And the implications of such a thing…

“For us to have some semblance of happiness and love,” he earnestly said. “This may be the closest we may ever get.”

The words of rejection sat on my tongue, immobilized from what he was saying. Fake happiness and love to perhaps gain the genuine thing? What kind of insane logic was that?

But something deep inside told me that this was it. This was the closest I was ever going to get to have my feelings reciprocated. And even though I should’ve been strong and not given into finally having some part of my dream come true, that logic-defying bastard of my heart won because, my God, I didn’t realize how badly I wanted this to happen.

Nodding my head, he gently cupped my face before leaning in, leaving a chaste kiss at the edge of my lips before trailing his lips along my chin and slowly, ever so slowly, down my neck. We spent the rest of the night cuddling and kissing, until we fell asleep.

When I woke up, he was long gone, leaving a hastily scribbled note on the crumpled sheets he once occupied.

Let’s keep this a secret, and I’ll see you tonight. I love you, Risa.

This was the beginning of the biggest mistake of my life.