#what if i peeled a tangerine and silently gave you half? what then?

[strawberrybaskets]

maybe read a poem about how oranges represent love and then you’ll calm down

[mandiemegatron]

【 ᵁⁿᵈᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵀʰᵉ ᴴᵘʳᵗ 】

Black Leg Sanji x cis!fem Straw Hat Reader

Rated: T for mental health discussions. Comfort, confessions, Sanji being open about his depression, we love healing Sanji in this household.

Words ; 3, 358

Trade with @shanalikeanna !! I love you forever, my lovely shana, I hope you enjoy this!!!!!! 💖💖💖

Once again, none of this would be possible without my beta and bestie, @moss-woods !! Thank you from the bottom of my heart, my love!!! 💖💖💋💋

ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵐʸ ʷᵒʳᵏ, ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍ ˢᵒ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉᵃᵈ ⁱᵗ, ᵗᵒᵒ!! ᵀʰᵃⁿᵏ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ, ᵐʸ ˡᵒᵛᵉˡʸ ˡⁱˡ ᵗᵃⁿᵍᵉʳⁱⁿᵉˢ!💖💖

The first night after escaping Totto Land, everyone was on edge.

The second, everyone did their best to try and rest, but most of the Straw Hats still tossed and turned (sans Zoro, that man can and has slept through a tornado).

The third night, you'd finally decided around 3 am to get up, your thoughts still raging through your mind and keeping the sandman from blessing you with sweet, sweet sleep.

Throwing on a simple, black hoodie and dark red sweatpants, you slipped into some shoes and quietly dipped out of the women's quarters and made it upstairs to the main deck without an issue.

To your surprise, you could smell Sanji smoking; taking a look around and realizing he was up top with Nami's tangerine groves. You climbed up and gave a small wave, not wanting to startle him.

“Can't sleep either?” You ask gently, causing Sanji to snap out of his thoughts and grin up at you, going to stand but you stopped him, instead moving closer and sitting in the plush grass with him. You reached up and plucked a tangerine, giving Sanji a grin when he gently took it from you with no words said.

“Thank you,” You begin, only to stop as you notice the dark circles under his eyes. “Sanji… have you gotten any sleep?”

The blonde stops for a moment, eyes still staring at the fruit in his hands and it's seconds later when he starts moving again, silently peeling away. After it's done, he holds the slices out to you and you take half of them, gently folding his fingers over the ones left over and pushing his hand back to him.

“Don't worry, it's our secret,” you joked, giving him a sneaky grin and a small chuckle before popping a slice in your mouth.

There was a comfortable silence between you both as you ate. The moon was bright in the sky, lighting up the grove beautifully and basking you both in its light. After you were done, you took the chance to carefully ask Sanji,

“Are… are you doing okay, Sanji?”

This time, he did look at you, his usually bright eyes dull and glazed as he seemingly stared through you. “Of course,” His usual cheery voice came through, but you could feel the hurt behind his tone.

You softly reached out and grasped one of his hands, gently holding it in both of yours as you mentioned in a lightly joking tone,

“You're really bad at lying to me.”

For a long second, Sanji stared, unable to enunciate anything, though his mouth twitched a few times. He then took a long drag and let it drift out, making sure to blow it up away from you.

“Sanji… you can talk to me. I can't even imagine what you went through-”

His hand tightened around your fingers and you froze, worry for him running through your entire body. He then took a shaky breath and finally murmured out tiredly,

“I don't want to talk about it.”

You frowned sadly, holding his hand over your heart as you replied,

“You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I just want you to know I'm here for you, always.”

Sanji sniffles softly as his gaze wanders to the grass, the aching in his heart getting harder to ignore.

“It doesn't matter-”

You squeeze his hand and comment,

“It absolutely matters Sanji, it matters to me and it matters to everyone on this crew. We're your family, we love you, Sanji.”

Nothing but another sigh came from the chef, the fight going on inside his head clearly too loud for you to get anything through to him. You could almost read the expression on his face - you don't get it, he's thinking, his gaze burning through the grassy patch.

You let his hand move back into his lap, his other hand reaching over to flick ashes off his cigarette.

“If you don't want to talk, that's okay. Do you mind listening instead, then?”

Your voice was small, so soft that it took Sanji a moment to process the words. His gaze flickered back up to you, hazy wariness hidden behind them as he nodded slightly.

You took a moment, gathering your thoughts to form into words as you gently began,

“I believe everything that happens to us happens for a reason. The good things happen to remind us that life is worth living, worth experiencing. The bad shit happens to show us how to grow, how to fight back, and to find that inner strength that you didn't even know was there.”

You shifted slightly, sitting up a bit straighter as you continued,

“I don't know what happened with you after you left. We were terrified, I was terrified. What if I never saw you again? What if I never got to tell you how amazing you were?”

Sanji also sat up more, his curled brow shifting down as he stared silently.

“Doing hard things is never easy, but having support from the people that love you makes all the difference. Even if that hard thing is just trying to survive.”

You shrug slightly, your fingers fiddling with themselves in your lap as you added,

“I heard… about Judge.”

Sanji freezes at your words, like ice cold snow had been dropped down onto him. His face twitches, the expression slightly irritated before it falls back into the previous nearly blank one.

“Sanji, have you heard the phrase, “blood is thicker than water?” Are you aware that phrase is wrong?”

Sanji lights a fresh cigarette with a slight shrug of his own, softly murmuring, “Oh.”

“The actual phrase is, “the blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb.”, meaning, the family you create is stronger than the family you were born into.”

You reached up and plucked another tangerine, peeling it yourself as Sanji sits, stunned and watching you with a wide, blue eye.

“I don't think I've ever met a single person with great parents. Hell, even my dad was a piece of shit too! But I can tell you, with absolute confidence, that you have a great father.”

The chef gave a single, sharp barking laugh, going to reply with a snarking bite when you cut him off with your own, sharp continuance,

“Have you forgotten so easily who you are, Sanji?”

He leans back a bit in hurt, tears welling up in his eyes as you add genuinely,

“You are Black Leg Sanji, named after your father, Red Leg Zeff. You are chef to the Straw Hat Pirates and don't you ever forget that your real father would be damn proud of how far you've come.”

You popped a few slices of tangerine into your mouth as you let your words stew, watching the tears stream down Sanji's face. You finished off the fruit and hummed softly, looking up at the sky as you spoke again.

“I think you should call him.”

You looked back to him and reached over, patting him on the shoulder a few times before getting up and brushing any dirt or grass from your butt. You threw Sanji a bright grin, your face illuminated by the moon as you softly commanded,

“Go get some sleep, Sanji. Your family will still be here in the morning.”

You turned and walked away before he could say anything, only able to watch you quietly walk back down towards the main deck door.

In the silence of the small grove, Sanji's heart beat so loud he swore the whole ship could hear it. His fingers ached, his eyes burned and his throat felt tight, like someone had welded his flesh inside together.

He knew you were right, the logic and love in your words washing over him like a warm blanket the more he thought over them.

So why couldn't he get up?

He flopped back into the grass, both eyes exposed to the shine of the moon as he puffed on his smoke. He took a last drag and put it out in the grass, intent on cleaning up after himself before he moved again. His eyes slipped shut for just a moment, his exhaustion catching up to him as his fight or flight instinct finally released its grip on him.

In seconds, Black Leg Sanji had passed out, a small smile on his lips with his body lovingly covered by the shadows from the tangerine trees.

Sanji awoke the next morning in his hammock, confusion running through him as he ran a tired hand through his hair. He groans and sits up, hopping out of his bed and slowly gets dressed, having to stop a few times as the ship rocks and he nearly trips.

Once he's dressed and more awake, he makes his way to the kitchen as usual and is surprised to find the moss head sitting at the table with a drink in his hand as you wash up dishes. It's clear that food had been made, and he goes to question you when Zoro pipes up,

“Sleep beauty finally wakes! How's it goin’, princess?” His tone is snarky and teasing but there's genuine curiosity behind the words.

Sanji only aims a kick at his head, which is blocked as usual. He huffs and straightens up his tie, giving Zoro the middle finger before sliding up behind you, completely ignoring the now furious swordsman.

“Oi! Fuck you, curlybrow!”

You're shaking your head with a roll of your eyes as Sanji asks you sweetly,

“You didn't have to do all this, mon ange! You could have woken me up-”

You looked up at him with a small grin as you commented,

“You were out like a light, Sanji. Besides, I've been watching you cook for ages, I feel like I picked up just enough to satisfy everyone.”

Sanji's cheeks burn, little hearts dancing around his head at your words. You couldn't help but breathe a soft sigh of relief, glad he was slowly returning to the man he was.

“Oh mon amour! You are the most precious thing in my life!”

Zoro gives a loud, over-exaggerated gag at that, pulling laughter from you as you finish placing the last dish into the drying rack. Sanji turns his attention back to Zoro with a snarking reply of,

“At least a woman wants to spend time with me! Your stink keeps everyone at a 5 mile radius away from you.” He proves his point by placing his hands on your hips and standing a little closer to hold you to him as he makes a face at Zoro who makes one back.

“Oh yeah? She doesn't look so comfortable from where I'm standing!”

You groan and roll your eyes again, pulling away from Sanji with burning cheeks as you make your way out of the kitchen.

“You guys can fight without me being in the middle!”

Zoro stops you before you can leave, gently grasping your wrist and pulling you to him. You give a soft “Oof!” as your body collides into Zoros, your hand pressing onto his chest to stabilize yourself.

“Oi! Shitty Swordsman! Get your grubby little hands off Y/N!”

Zoro just laughs, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulders and keeping you to him as he barks back,

“You're just mad that she doesn't hate me, ugly dandelion head!”

You pinch Zoro's nipple and he jumps, letting go of you as he shields his wounded pride and offended body part behind burning cheeks.

“The hell was that for?!”

Sanji can't help but burst out laughing, your own laughter joining in as you finally make your way out of the kitchen.

“Paybacks a bitch, Zo!”

With you gone, the two men glared and growled at each other, Sanji huffing smoke at the swordsman as Zoro puffs his chest out a bit, glaring Sanji down.

“Quit hittin” on her, you curlybrowed moron!”

“You quit it! She doesn't like stupid, ugly, unwashed assholes!”

Their foreheads smacked against each other as they growled and barked at each other, only finally breaking away as they heard you call from down the hallway,

“Sanji? Can I get your help with something?”

Sanji flashes Zoro a smug grin, puffing smoke in his face as he calls back,

“Of course I can, my darling Y/N-chaaan!”

Zoro rolls his eye as he watched the shitty love cook literally twirl and dance out the kitchen door, taking the advantage of Sanji being gone to raid the ‘secret’ cupboard that held all the good sake.

Finding an unopened bottle, Zoro uncorks it with a heavy sigh before heading back up to the crows nest.

Sanji, on the other hand, finds himself in a predicament as he searches the halls for you, confusion set on his face as he opens a few doors.

“Y/N? Where'd you go?”

He almost shrieks as a hand pulls him back, tugging him into a room and slamming the door shut. He turns and flares his nose slightly, staring you down as he presses a hand over his chest.

“Y/N! You almost gave me a heart attack,” he half-jokes, patting his chest lightly a few times as you grin up at him.

“I gotta keep you on your toes,” you replied lightly, giving him a quick wink before tugging him over to your bed. You immediately sat down and patted the space beside you, an almost expectant look on your face as you asked,

“You got some time to sit with me?”

Sanji takes in your expression and slowly sits, but not before putting out his cigarette in the small ashtray on your bedside table. His heart always thumped a few extra fast beats at your thoughtfulness.

He makes himself comfortable before he nervously asks,

“So? What did you need help with?”

Your face blossoms into bright red hues as you look down to your lap, your fingers fiddling with themselves anxiously as you slowly got out,

“I um, I just, um,” you stumble over your words, unsure of how to get them out. It takes a second, but you finally inhale before quickly spilling out in one, quick breath,

“Ireallylikeyouandidon’tknowifyoulikemetoo.”

Sanji blinks a few times, his mind trying to decipher the words that bubbled out of you, only for his head to tilt to the side as he gives a confused,

“Uh… what?”

Your cheeks darken, and you shove your face into shaking hands, trying to steady your racing heart as you groan into your palms.

You freeze as two warm hands grip lightly around your wrists, pulling your hands from your face only to find Sanji's own visage just centimeters from your own.

There's a sparkle in his uncovered eye and a wide grin on his face as he breathes out,

“You like me?”

You stiffen as your expression sinks nervously, only able to give him a soft,

“... Yeah….”

There's a single moment between you before your back is pressed onto the bed and Sanji is on top of you, his hands on either side of your head with one leg in between yours.

Shivers run over your body in anticipation, your eyes staring up into both of his as his hair dangles over you, showing every part of his beautiful face. You gently reach up and cup one of his cheeks in your palm, watching with a soaring heart as his eyes fall shut and he presses further into your palm.

“For so long…” He started, his voice just above a whisper. “I'd look at you and hope to God you could hear my thoughts racing, that you could hear how hard my heart beat for you…”

You felt your heart swell in adoration for him at his admittance, your own eyes slipping shut as he leans forward a bit to press his forehead against yours.

“For so long, all I wanted was for you to want me… the way I wanted you.”

The tip of his nose brushes against yours in a loving motion, his lips so close you could feel his breath dancing across your own.

“You don't even know how much you've healed me. My angel, my darling,” His voice cracks as he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting back tears as he pours his heart out to you. You sniffle softly, tears of your own prickling at your eyes as you open them and listen to him continue.

“There isn't a day that goes by that I just… I don't feel good enough. For you, for this crew… but the last couple days really showed me how cherished I am.”

Pulling back to stare down at you with teary eyes, Sanji somehow gets out,

“I will never take your love for granted, Y/N. I love you and I don't care if you don't feel the same-”

You cut him off with a kiss, leaning your head up just enough to capture his lips, effectively silencing him.

When you pull back, his eyes are wide, tears streaming down his face as you softly comment,

“Sanji, I love you, and I have for a long time. I thought I was going to lose you to Pudding, and that I'd never see you again,” your tears flooded down the sides of your eyes as you looked up at him. “I thought I'd never get the chance to tell you how much you meant to me.”

Sanji leans down and hugs you tightly, hiding his face in the side of your neck as he sobs silently. You cling to him, rubbing your fingers over his back and through his soft hair, murmuring loving words to him as he lets all his emotions out.

It takes a long while for Sanji to finally settle, his eyes red and achy when he finally pulls back to stare down at you. You wiped at his eyes gently as you confidently reminded him,

“Black Leg Sanji, I love you, now and forever. Do not ever forget the family you have here.”

A wide grin breaks out over his face as he leans down to kiss you, your lips melding with his as if they were made for him; like two souls made of the same star dust, colliding with each other and creating a blinding light for the world to see.

You pull away after a few moments, gently holding his face again as you murmur almost teasingly,

“I have a present for you.”

Sanji's expression makes him look like a child in a candy store with no beri limit, pulling away from you to sit back on his butt as he gushes,

“For me?! You didn't have to do that, my angel dearest,”

You cut him off with a lazy wave of your hand, sitting up and reaching into the top drawer of your desk and pulling out your small Den Den Mushi.

Sanji gives you a puzzled look as you dial in a number and hand the Den Den to him, leaning back on your headboard as it begins to ring.

Peru-peru-peru… peru-peru-peru…

Sanji almost drops your Den Den as an all too familiar voice barks out on the other end.

“This is The Baratie, Zeff speaking.”

Sanji feels like he's been punched in the chest, looking to you with watery eyes once more as you sit back with crossed arms, a smug grin on your face as you motion for him to say something.

“Carne, if this is another stupid fuckin’ prank-”

“You… shitty old man…”

There's a crackle on the other end, Sanji watching the face on the snail change from irritation to one of complete surprise.

He swears every hurt he'd ever felt in his life healed when Zeff finally spoke again.

“You shitty little eggplant…” There's another pause as he hears a sniffle from the snail.

“... My son!”

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

just let me adore you || h. styles

warnings: swearing, kissing, briefly proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: a holiday in italy involves an unusual amount of shampoo and lusting...

The villa was somewhat quiet. The sound of solitary piano notes echoed through the halls. Harry’s hair was dishevelled from his heavy night’s sleep prior to the warm morning he found himself emersed in. While his fingers were busy working away at the grand piano, his eyes were preoccupied with following your form around the backyard of the villa. 

You were sat by the pool, your book long forgotten. Your sunglasses were shielding your eyes from the unrelenting Italian sun. Your hair was pinned up, your skin exposed to the heat of the morning. 

Harry’s attention was suddenly pulled away by the sound of your father emerging from the kitchen. “Morning, Haz,” he grinned, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “Any plans for today?”

He shrugged, “Might just, you know, work on some music.”

“A man committed to his career, that’s what I like to see,” your father said. 

Harry nodded awkwardly, offering the older man a quick smile. Once your father disappeared into the lounge, Harry found his eyes wandering back to you. But you’d vanished. Had there not been wet footprints staining the concrete poolside, there would be no trace you’d been there at all. 

Focusing on the lone notes the piano had no trouble emitting became an increasingly difficult task. All he could seem to focus on was you and the obnoxiously loud laughter of your mother and his own in the kitchen. He huffed loudly, pulling his jacket around himself tightly. He clambered up from the piano stool, stalking through to the kitchen to kindly ask if the two women could lower to volume slightly. However, he was soon silenced by the sight of you sat on the countertop of the island, your legs swinging beneath you, a peeled tangerine in your delicate hands. You were smiling slightly as the women couldn’t help but laugh at something Anne had said. 

A bundle of nerves unravelled itself inside of Harry’s stomach when you looked up and locked eyes with him. Your mother and Anne quickly quietened down at Harry’s sudden presence in the doorway. “Morning, darling,” Anne smiled. 

“Morning, Mum,” he replied, breaking his gaze away from your own. “Do you, uh, do you mind if you can keep it down a bit? I’m trying to work.”

“Work?” your mum asked. “Harry, dear, we’re in Italy! Why don’t you wait to work when you get home.”

“I know, but I feel most inspired when I’m away from my house,” he tried to explain. 

“Just take a break, Harry. Relax… you know, unwind,” Anne said softly. 

He sighed, “Okay. Fine. I’m going to shower.”

And with that, he spun on his heel and left the kitchen. You’d been silent throughout the entire exchange, glancing between Harry and your half-eaten tangerine. As you watched him leave, you averted your attention back to your book that was being held open by a mug you’d quickly put down so as not to lose your place.  

Harry found himself running his hands through his dark hair, which was now coated in mango-scented shampoo. He’d just grabbed it off the shelf in the shower, assuming it came as a complimentary luxury with the villa. As the hot water trickled down his body, he allowed his muscles to relax. He knew his mum was right: he needed to separate himself from his music for a few days. But he was only working away tirelessly at the grand piano because it kept his mind off you. If it wasn’t music, it was you. If it wasn’t you, it was music. 

These yearly holidays used to be enjoyable for Harry. Right up until he was fourteen and he realised he liked you. Then they became almost torturous. As soon as he began to see you in this different light, your presence and whereabouts became apparent to his senses. Before, you always seemed to swim in the pool with Gemma or play in her room. He’d occupy himself with your brother by going down to the beach or playing tag in the extensive gardens of the Italian villa. But you suddenly seemed to be everywhere. He’d go down to the beach and there you’d be with your parents or Gemma. He’d be running through the gardens trying to find your brother after an afternoon of hide and seek, and yet he’d discover you reading or gossiping with his sister. All of this, but the summer you didn’t come with your family because you were going away to Scotland with your then-boyfriend instead was utterly dreadful for him.

When he was finished in the shower, he wasted the rest of the day by the pool in hopes you’d venture out with your books and tangerines. But alas, you did not. It was only when the sun was dipping below the horizon did he next lay eyes on you. He was sat at the dining table, his plate before him. You grinned at him, sitting down opposite him. You kept quiet as your parents chatted away mindlessly with Anne, only sharing a brief and quiet conversation with your brother, who you were sat beside. 

Gemma hadn’t come this year, leaving Harry and Anne alone with your family. Anne didn’t seem to have a problem with that at all. After all, she and your mother were such good friends and always had been. You had always been content in your own company. And your brother seemed to spend all his time with your father, something about inheriting the family business. So, Harry had found a companion in the villa’s grand piano, which had now been stripped away from him courtesy of his mother. 

It wasn’t as if you were deliberately being cold to Harry. You actually quite admired him and you knew you always had. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t aware of his eyes following you everywhere you went. But you liked the attention. You wanted to know just what you could do to him. So, when your foot accidentally grazed his leg beneath the table, you didn’t even look at him. After all, it was a mere accident. 

When, at last, your father was finished with his meal, you helped Anne clear away the dishes and your mother as she washed up. While your father and brother ventured through to the lounge to watch a football game, Harry went straight to his room. 

An hour passed and he was too busy on his phone to notice you enter his room. When you cleared your throat, he finally looked up. His eyes were wide like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He hurriedly shut off his phone, blackness overtaking the screen that had once presented your Instagram profile to him. “Oh, hi, Y/N,” he said as you sat yourself down at the foot of his bed. 

“Oh? Didn’t realise you were expecting someone else,” you smirked. 

“No, no, no. I, uh, I wasn’t. I was just surprised to see you,” he said quickly. 

“Right,” you grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He watched your face screw up suddenly. You leaned forward towards him, before laughing. “What?” he asked. “What’s funny?”

“Is that my shampoo?” you questioned. 

“Shit. I just thought it was a, you know, freebie. I didn’t realise it was yours. Shit. I wouldn’t have used it if I knew it was yours. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

As he rambled, he remembered that the two of you shared the same bathroom. It was between your respective bedrooms, doors leading to both. Of course it was your shampoo. You chuckled at his ramblings, “It’s okay Harry. It’s just shampoo. You can use it whenever.”

“Oh,” he let out a sigh of relief. “Well, for what it’s worth, I thought it smelt wonderful.”

You smiled, “Thanks. I have a pomegranate one in my suitcase that I think you’d love.”

“Really? Why did you bring two shampoos?” he asked. 

You shrugged, “So I have options depending on my mood. Sometimes I’m feeling like a pomegranate, sometimes I’m feeling like a mango.”

He couldn’t help but smile, his eyes wandering up your bare legs that were only sporting a pair of silky shorts. Obviously, this didn’t go unnoticed by you. “The only thing is,” you started, “you’re going to smell like me now.”

He shifted slightly. You smiled to yourself. 

“What if people, you know, get the wrong idea?” you asked innocently. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat, “I guess you’ll just have to use your pomegranate shampoo tomorrow instead, won’t you?”

You leaned back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. His cheeks were flushed and you knew your job for the evening was done. “Fair play, Styles. See you in the morning,” you made a point of touching his shoulder as you left via the shared bathroom. 

The following morning, Harry awoke, finding himself peacefully content for a moment before he recalled the prior night’s events. He was yet to decide if you were actually making a move on him or not. Or perhaps you were genuinely concerned that your families would smell your signature mango scent on Harry and get the wrong impression of the entire thing. 

He dragged himself out of the soft sheets, getting dressed. He listened silently to the running shower. He could hear you humming along to Then He Kissed Me by The Crystals. And after the shower he stopped, he gave it five minutes before going in to brush his teeth. He couldn’t help but look over to see your bottle of pomegranate shampoo making its place beside your mango one. The red bottle was the one soaked in droplets of water, while the yellow bottle remained dry. You’d done as he’d said. In a way, Harry almost wished you’d used the mango shampoo. He almost liked the thought of people thinking he and you had been so close that he’d absorbed your tropical scent. 

As he wandered into the kitchen, preparing himself some toast, he noticed the unusual silence of the villa. It was unnerving. He felt like the protagonists of those books and movies where they wake up and everyone’s gone or been evacuated. It felt apocalyptic. But, as his mind churned out immediate actions to take in this case of an unprecedented apocalypse, you walked into the kitchen just as his toast popped out of the toaster. “Morning,” you smiled, sitting down at one of the island’s stools. 

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, spreading butter onto the crisp toast. 

You shrugged, “It was alright. You?”

“I slept wonderfully.”

“Good,” you said. 

“Where is everyone?” he asked, sitting down opposite you. 

“They left for the beach,” you explained. “I didn’t want to go and they didn’t want to wait around for you to get out of bed. Anne told me to tell you that if you want to go down, they’re the ones with the pink deckchairs.”

He nodded slowly, “I think I’ll pass. Not a fan of sand.”

“Right? Why do people enjoy playing in minuscule rocks, which end up in your clothes for the next two weeks? Sounds like hell to me,” you said. 

He smiled at your aggravated tone, “Wow, and I thought I hated sand.” 

“You haven’t seen anything yet, pal,” you joked, smiling. 

Before a blanket of silence could fall on top of the two of you, Harry quickly said, “I saw you used the pomegranate shampoo.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him, “Yeah… I mean, you told me to, right?”

“Right,” he nodded quickly. “Of course. Well, at least we both smell nice now.”

You frowned, “If you say so. Anyway, I’m going for a swim. See you later.”

Harry watched you leave. His eyes roamed your figure with your legs exposed in a pair of shorts. You looked back at him over your shoulder, grinning to yourself at his longing look. He watched through the large kitchen windows as you rid yourself of your shorts and t-shirt, revealing your swimsuit beneath. He tried desperately to peel his gaze away from you as you settled yourself comfortably on one of the sun loungers by the pool. You placed your sunglasses over your eyes, opening your book. 

As soon as he’d finished his toast, he wandered outside. At the sound of his footsteps, you looked up. “Hi, Harry,” you smiled. 

“Hello,” he said softly, sitting down opposite you. You slid your sunglasses up over your head, settling them on your hair. You sat up, never allowing your eyes to leave his. “How can I help you?” you grinned. 

He was fiddling with his fingers, his gaze alternating between them and you. Finally, you reached out and placed your hand over his shaky ones. You stood, pulling him up with you. You were so close. You could hear each other breathing. You could practically hear his heart thumping against his ribs. You reached up to whisper in his ear, “I know you adore me.”

You smirked, allowing him to revel in your confidence. Call it cockiness. Same thing, really. You slowly pulled away from his ear, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. And yet it was him who finally connected your lips to his own. He didn’t make any effort to pull away either. You smiled into the kiss, burying your fingers in his hair. And when he finally did pull away, he stared down at you, cheeks red, “Depends if you adore me too.”

You grinned, “I do.”

And, with that, he dove back in. You grinned as he wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up. He lay you down gently on the sun lounger, leaning over you. As you pulled his shirt over his head, he leaned back slightly. “I thought you didn’t want people to get the wrong idea,” he whispered. 

You shrugged, “I guess we’ll just have to see what pomegranate and mango smell like together.”

[0097linersb]

Pink Lemonade

CHAPTER 1

Pairings: Jaemin x Renjun x Haechan x Jeno x Mark x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Humor (I guess), Slow burn af

Summary: The dreamies decide to spend some weeks at an Inn in the middle of the nature to relax and enjoy some outdoor adventures, far away from their crazy idol life. What they didn’t expect was the nice girl running said Inn.

Word count: 3k

You should read the intro first so this story makes sense <3

☼  previous / next  ☼

A/N: Honestly guys this fic will probably be long and detaild af ‘cause I’m using it as a distraction from real life lol guess who just finished their engagement. If u would like it to be more straightforward and go right to the fun parts let me know, I’d really like some opinions! Also, it’s like 2 AM so I’ll proofread it tomorrow 

As you woke up the next day, you were not shocked to find that the boys were not up yet. Last night you were surprised to come downstairs to an already fully cleaned kitchen and as much as it made you embarrassed, it also made you immensely grateful. You thanked them and told them to stop being so nice and doing your job for you, to which Mark only responded that seven guys could be really messy sometimes.

You had given them the folders that informed all the activities the Inn (well, you) offered and the ones they could book in the city a few minutes away, it made you smile at how excited they got reading the paper and planning their days. Haechan was already asking if they could go stargazing that same night but the rest of them groaned saying they were way too tired to move after the long trip (and you felt bad once again for having them clean the kitchen).

Everyone eventually agreed on a time for breakfast and you were just sure they wouldn’t wake up that early by the dark circles under their eyes and, turns out you were right. They did go to sleep pretty early the other night, showering after the meal you had and just going straight to bed.

You lazily stretched as you left your room with Koda and Kenai tracing after you, to find a very much awake Jaemin sitting on the living room’s couch holding a cup.

“Good morning, did you make coffee?” You yawned at the boy, scolding Koda so he would get off the couch.

“Good morning. Yeah, sorry for taking the liberty, I really needed to wake up,” He smiled at you, petting your disobedient dog with his free hand so he could get distracted from the way your shirt had ridden up. Damn morning horniness.

“It’s ok, smells good. Are the rest of the boys awake?”

“Nop, and probably won’t be for a while. I know we agreed on going to the lake at 8 but everyone’s dead, I can wake them up if-“

“No, it’s ok,” You laughed. “I imagined this would happen, not a fan of waking up early myself.”

“Oh, you can go back to sleep if you want, I can knock when everyone starts waking up.”

“Don’t worry. You just really made me want some coffee.”

“I left it downstairs, I can go get you a cup.”

“Jaemin, we’re playing opposites here, don’t make me feel useless,” You joked, already making your way to the stairs, missing how the man stared at your legs in your little pajama shorts. “Plus, I need to take the boys on a walk before they become too fidgety.”

“Can I come with?”

“Of course.”

Jaemin was quick to stand up and follow you downstairs, where you quickly poured yourself a cup of coffee and opened the door, the dogs running past you excitedly. You silently lead the way out of your property and into the unpaved road, warming your hands with the coffee mug – The days were hot but the nights and early mornings could be quite chilly, especially with all the trees surrounding you and blocking the sunshine from reaching you.

“Do they sleep with you?” Jaemin asked, pointing at the dogs who were sniffing around the bushes on the side of the road, like they didn’t do this same route every day.

“Sometimes, they often prefer to stay outside, lots of animals to chase when I’m not there to scream at them.”

“They don’t wear leashes?”

“No need to, there’s barely people here and they are really well-behaved. I trained them well, Koda just gets a little bold when we have new guests over,” You smiled, remembering not even 5 minutes ago said dog was trying to get on Jaemin’s lap on the couch. “Do you like tangerines?”

The boy looked at you confused but nodded.

“Wait a second,” You asked before leaving him, walking off the road and into the trees. After a minute or so, you were back, throwing one of the orange fruits at Jaemin. “I steal them from the neighbors sometimes.”

“Will we get in trouble?” He asked but was already peeling the tangerine with his hands.

“Nah, they are never here. These would just rot.”

“Seems only fair then.”

You walked for another few minutes in silence, eating happily as you appreciated the sound of your feet crushing the small rocks on the floor.

“Ok, tangerines do not go well with coffee,” You make a face after eating half of your fruit, only now stopping to pay attention to the actual taste in your mouth.

Jaemin laughs at you before putting his last slice into his mouth, “Cute.”

“There’s nothing cute about this flavor.”

“Didn’t bother me,” He shrugged, smiling down at you.

Damn that boy was too attractive for his own good. You meant, all of them were.

It was just unfair, really.

The two of you talked a bit more until you hit the end of the road and then made your way back, it was a light-hearted comfortable conversation and you liked the way it made you feel warm inside. You learnt that Jaemin likes to photograph stuff and you asked him to take lots of pictures during their stay so you could use them on the Inn’s social media, telling him you shared that hobby with him. You then started a discussion about digital vs. film photography, in which you two clearly didn’t agree on, but it kept you entertained for a long time.

“Listen, technology evolved to this point to make life comfortable and easier for a reason!” Jaemin whined as you two were entering your property once again. “Is there something worse than developing your pictures only to find out your film was ruined?”

“That’s the thrill of it!” You exasperated.

“I call that heartbreak.”

“It’s a raw form of art for the strong hearted,” You sigh dramatically, opening the door for the man.

After your half an hour walk, as you got back home, only Renjun was up, pouring himself some coffee and looking super sleepy.

“Good morning, slept well?” You asked as Jaemin made his way to sit down on the table after getting Renjun to pour him some more coffee.

“Yeah, this is the first time I dreamt in months,” He smiled at you but his eyes were still half closed. Like you, Renjun was still in his pajamas, light sweatpants and a wrinkled white t-shirt.

“Do you guys want to eat something before breakfast?” You asked, not knowing how long they would have to wait for the others.

“It’s ok,” Jaemin answered.

“If you change your mind just let me know,” You smiled, wondering on what to do now, since you had already prepared the food for today last night and didn’t have any other chores until everyone was up so you could make their beds.

You figured the boys would drink their coffees and go talk or lay down in the hammocks, maybe even try to nap a bit but you were proven wrong when Renjun pointed at the end of the table suddenly excited, “Are those cards?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we play?”

“Of course.”

The man was quick to pick up the little box and sit down across the table from Jaemin, who tapped the place next to him before you had the chance to leave. You happily took on the offer, content with finally spending some fun time with people your age. No, scratch that: Attractive men your age.

“Let’s play Rummy!” Renjun suggested, the sleepiness leaving his body at the simple thought.

“I have no idea how to play that,” You informed.

“It’s ok, I’ll teach you. Come closer,” Jaemin smiled at you and you obeyed, heart beating fast at your thighs suddenly touching. What were you? 12?

The game was way too complicated for your morning brain to understand so you basically just watched the boys play, giving your input here and there.

“Jaemin, here!” You excitedly pointed at one of the cards he was holding.

“Oh, I had missed that, smart girl,” He smiled at you, patting your thigh as a thank you or maybe a praise, making your heart almost leave your body through your mouth. 

Freaking pet names dude.

After an hour or so playing, Jeno and Haechan appeared already fully clothed and awake. The second boy gave you and Jaemin a weird look, noticing how the boy’s right hand was just casually resting on your thigh. At some point it just happened and it felt comfortable (if you ignored your blood pumping through your body twice the normal speed, of course), it had been months since you had flirted with someone and you were enjoying the touch fully, thoughts of being professional nowhere to be found.

You greeted the boys and they sat down too, informing Mark and Chenle would be down in a second and Jisung would just skip breakfast to sleep. You decided then to get up and leave them to chat as you went into the pantry to organize the food you had prepared yesterday, into the baskets.

“Dude,” Haechan whispered to Jaemin.

Just by looking at the boy, Jaemin already knew what he wanted to comment on so he just, “Don’t.”

“Game on, bro.”

“What? This is not a game, we were just-“

“I said game on, bro.”

Jaemin sighed and gave up, knowing Haechan was just joking and being annoying as usual.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After all the men (minus Jisung) were downstairs and ready to go, you guided them down to the lake, setting up one of those cliché plaid towels for everyone to sit on. As you and Mark organized the foods around, you smiled at the others running around the grass and taking pictures, impressed at the view. The lake really was pretty and your property had a privileged clearing to sit down and enjoy it.  

“I would love to say they are normally not this energetic,” Mark smiled at you, placing the bowl with the grapes and strawberries down. “But I’d be lying.”

“It’s refreshing, I rarely deal with people my age around here. We didn’t add bingo to the activities’ folder for no reason.”

“There are no clubs or bars around here?”

“The biggest city around has barely 2.000 habitants so I’ll say no to that. Although this region is becoming really famous for the ecotourism these days, they opened a nice pub for the tourists like last month but there’s only ever people during the weekends.”

“Well, if you ever go to Seoul, let me take you out,” Mark offered before realizing what he had said and stiffening, cheeks going red like the watermelon juice in your hands. “I mean, like, to show you the places and-“

“That sounds fun,” You smiled at him, deciding to end his misery right from the start. He was cute. “Boys, the food is ready.”

Jeno excitedly dropped Haechan down (who he was holding for a picture) and ran over, leaving a very whiny boy on the floor. Jaemin took a picture of that and soon enough, everyone was sitting down on the picnic clot.

“Wow, it looks like we’re in a movie,” Renjun awed, looking around.

It really did, that’s why you liked bringing the guests to this spot on their first day. After everything was set, the scenery resembled a Renaissance painting and you loved it. It was a bit hotter than normally since it was a few hours later then the time the guests usually have breakfast, but the gentle breeze of the wind was enough to not make it unbearable.  

The meal was fun, the boys made you feel so comfortable that it felt like you have known each other for a longer time than the actual truth. You all chatted, joked around and posed for pictures with the food. You had brought your analog camera just to tease Jaemin, asking him to take a picture with it for you.

“How do you want it?” The boy groaned, pretending to be annoyed.

“Here, I have an idea,” Haechan shared, excitedly, holding up one of the strawberries from the bowl in front of your face. “Bite it on the side.”

You accepted the advice confused, not understanding where he was trying to go with it but excited, you loved a good old-fashioned improvised picture. Jaemin pointed the camera at you and counted to three, and you smiled around the strawberry when on the count of one, Haechan bit on the other side of the strawberry and looked at you cross-eyed. After you saw the flash of the camera going off, you decided to take a big bite of the strawberry to play around with Haechan but apparently the boy had the same idea and your lips ended up touching, slightly. Since when has your life become a cliché teenage movie? 

You quickly took the stem of the fruit from between your mouths, pulling away from the boy to tease him, “Damn. Didn’t even buy me dinner first.”

The others joined in on teasing Haechan but the man simply winked at you, “Would be my pleasure.”

You didn’t even have time to giggle before the other men pretended to puke and Renjun legit slapped Haechan.

                                       _____________________________________________

The boys decided to not do any activities that day because Jisung would simply not wake up and after a while waiting, Chenle decided to join him on the hibernation. It made you feel sad for them, that their days were so busy and tiring that at the first sight of some time off, they would sleep for hours and hours to make up for it.

The rest of you decided to play some volleyball in the parking lot (which  was not the best idea considering it was noon). As expected by the almost 40 degrees climate, one by one, every single boy started taking off their shirts, body dripping and glistening with sweat and you just felt in heaven. This could just not be real, you even looked around for cameras, scenes like that just didn’t happen in real life. One hot shirtless guy was the acceptable quota for normality.

But also, you didn’t miss the way they looked at you in your little shorts and top (equal rights after all). It made you feel powerful even though you knew it was just their hormones talking, yours were screaming too after all. If it was already like that on their second day here, you couldn’t imagine how you would survive for the next few weeks, you just wanted to cry every time Jeno (who was on your team) approached you to celebrate when either of you scored, high-fiving you with his huge arms (you would die a happy woman if you were choked by them).

After the game was over, the boys decided to go swim on the lake to cool off and you figured it would be a good time to shower and organize their beds, which you quickly did before starting to make some lunch for everyone. The youngest ones of the group didn’t even wake up to eat so you decided to leave them some food in the microwave in case they got hungry in the afternoon.

Unfortunately the Wi-Fi was being annoying as usual and refused to work, so you couldn’t even google about the boys yet, the curiosity was almost killing you. Maybe it was better like that, right now you were just seeing them as 7 young men living their normal lives and you liked it, it kept you from being nervous at the fact they were probably some big stars that had the world at their feet – They all just seemed so chill sprawled around the living room floor playing the bingo you had joked about earlier, it was hard to believe they probably had hoards of screaming girls around them daily.

They thanked you for cleaning their rooms and told you that you didn’t have to, which technically you did, considering it was literally your job and the whole reason you were there.

You could be wrong, considering you have known them for barely 2 days, but you quickly noticed some little things about them: Like how Jaemin liked to touch you, even if it was just a light brush of his hand on your arm (in his defense, he was touchy with everyone, but when he touched you, it just lingered for a bit longer), or how Haechan liked to playfully flirt with you, that boy just had no shame and you admired him for that. You saw how Renjun often stared at you but when you looked at him, he looked away (which could mean either he was shy or he just didn’t like you very much), but at least he was more subtle about it, as opposite to Mark, who became a blushing mess every time you caught his eyes (and you just wanted to squeeze him). You realized Jeno was a manlier guy, you hadn’t gotten what his deal was yet but you loved the way his eyes disappeared when he smiled and that was enough for you.

It was funny, really, how everyone decided to ignore the tension in the air and go on with the day normally – You did only meet the day before after all.

After getting bored with bingo, the boys told you they planned on going water skiing tomorrow and you agreed happily, telling them you could have a little barbecue party in the camping next to the docks where your parents kept the Inn’s water sports gears, which got them even more excited.

“Can we go camping too?” Jeno asked, receiving a groan from Haechan. Classic city boy.

“Like at night?” You asked and Jeno nodded. “Yeah, actually the stars here are crazy pretty since there’s no light pollution.”

“See?” The boy told Haechan excitedly, who only sighed, accepting his fate.

Barbecue, bonfire, alcohol and a beautiful sky: You were a city girl too but you were also a sucker for a good camping night.

taglist: @eggbutnotyolk @lauraneuuh @geeisaclown @jenotation @riemm @junguwuuu @prettychaeng @satanssugaraddiction @luvlyjaemin @sweetjaemss @oofimdumb @junglekooks @unknown5tar @rosedchae@

[kur0m1bab3]

𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓.

The fruitful mid-day rays of the relentless Californian sun shone down remorselessly onto the Valencia orange trees, aligned ornately into groves.

sweet smelling Citrus sinensis suffocated the air in the light familiarity of hazy summer days and midnight snacks.

oppressive sea breezes kissed the fronds of the fruitful orange trees, causing for a paltry sway of the leaves to leave a minor hum in the air, along with the boisterous songs of bluebirds and cicadas. Sitting idly, perched between two specifically large orange trees sat Keiji keiji, who's gaze pranced around from the scenic view of the orange grove, to the worn down leather notebook sitting quietude among the old, tattered down black metal patio table. The calligraphy pen, resting between his middle and pointer finger, tapped on the rusted metal table softly, adding a harmonious component to the customary symphony of summer. A soft sigh left the young man's mouth, as his gaze transfixed on the man-made dirt road, bellowing in numerous paths through the vast grove.

May was the last month of growing season for navel oranges and tangerines. It was a seemingly good season for those two fruits, considering the countless times profits almost dwindled due to Mother Nature's tampering on the weather. Despite sales being great this quarter, keiji was not,too thrilled about the ridiculous rush they were about to receive once June hit. June was the start of Valencia Orange season, the Akaashi’s best selling item at the grove. The Akaashi family had owned this grove for generations. Stories always being told to keiji when he was younger about his heroine great,great,great, great grandfather, who snuck a single orange seed aboard a ship, taking prisoners from japan to America for labor, and planted it, an orange tree sprouting over night buying his great grandfather times 4 his freedom. Looking back keiji chuckled at the outlandish stories, not believing how gullible children really were, him being a prime example.

In the midst of his thoughts, keijis eyes somehow wandered over to the very end of the large grove. Despite the distance, keiji could make out 2 of 4 buildings that sat at the horizon of the lush forest of acidc fruits. The guesthouses, and the packaging house. The red-clay colored Spanish styled villa structures contrasted almost too perfectly against the panoramic view of the grove. keiji let out a slightly annoyed breath, absolutely dreading the growing season to come. keiji was seemingly brought back to reality rather quickly, by the bellowing of his name from a short distance. His eyebrow raised in minor curiosity as he turned his head, eyes looming over the bright landscape, in search of that oh so familiar voice.

"keiji!" The voice called once more, only this time, much closer allowing keiji to exactly pinpoint and discern who, and where the voice came from. A small grin formed at the corner of the young adults lips as he chuckled a bit.

"I'm over here mom" he said softly, only loud enough for her to hear, as he watched the lush greenery beside him carefully, anticipating for the reveal of his mother, Hanako. Just as suspected, a large straw hat came into view before anything else, the sight producing keiji to grin widely as he rested his chin on his palm, watching his mother in amusement struggle to carry a large wicker basket filled to the brim with assorted citric fruit.

"Love bug...where ya'been all day? I wanted you to help me pick the last of this seasons pick" Hanako huffed out, slightly out of breath as she pulled off the obnoxiously colored garden gloves from her small hands, placing the gloves under her underarm as she wiped a thin layer of sweat from her tanned forehead. keiji smiled a bit, gazing at his mom in amusement.

"Oh you were serious?" keiji chuckled a bit as his mother huffed out once more shaking her head, pulling the chair across from keiji from under the black table, plopping down into the metal chair with a soft thud.

"Obviously keiji" Hanako mumbled shaking her head once more, removing the extravagant straw hat adorned with wacky colored artificial flowers, from her head.

"Where's Kelly? I thought he always helped you pick?" keiji asked, reaching over into his satchel, that was sitting on the lush green grass. He grabbed a water bottle from the leather bag, handing the cool beverage to his mother, who's cheeks were beet red from the obvious time spent in the sweltering California heat.

"I—let him have paternity leave...his wife,

maya—you remember maya? pretty black lady-? Yeah she just had their first born" Hanako explained out of breath, from quickly chugging the water bottle keiji had gifted her. keiji hummed in understanding, carding a hand through his wind tousled hair.

"How long will he be gone?" keiji mumbled, reaching over to the wicker basket, gently grabbing a small tangerine, beginning to peel the vibrant fruit, as his eyes darted between his mother, down to the small fruit currently being nestled by his hands.

"I gave him 5 months...but I'm starting to think that's not enough.."Hanako trailed off, topping off her water bottle as she let her eyes glance from the plush green grass to her son.

"Are you excited about this growing season?" Hanako asked curiously, crossing her nimble legs waiting silently for keiji to answer as He scoffed popping a piece of the cool tangerine into his mouth.

"Thrilled...oh yes mother, I'm so entirely thrilled on having to share my living spaces with complete strangers for the duration of summer." keiji smiled sarcastically as his mother waved him off, letting her elbow rest upon the rusty table.

"Oh you're being dramatic.."Hanako chuckled, raising an eyebrow of amusement at her son as keiji leaned back, letting his arms rest behind his head, the small gold chain around his wrist slightly shifting downward onto his arm.

"I absolutely despise waking up to go eat breakfast, and there are complete strangers eating out of MY bowls and drinking out of MY cups, eating the breakfast MY mother cooked for me-" keiji began as he held out his hand, offering his mother a slice of the acerbic fruit, her happily accepting it as she popped it in her mouth, a small chuckle leaving her lips.

"Call me selfish" keiji shrugged, smirking a bit popping the last slice of the acute orange in his mouth as his mother shook her head, a hearty laugh erupting from her as she shook her head.

"It's a bed and breakfast keiji!" His mother exclaimed in amusement as keiji just smiled.

"I know ma I know...I just hating having people around...it's normally just me and you ya know?" keiji confessed as his mother hummed softly, letting her eyes trail over to the guest houses that connected to the main house by a series of dirt paved walkways and narrow steps.

"You know..." Hanako began to babble, her gaze still being transfixed on the clay colored buildings as she tapped her fingers on the armrest of the chair, creating a soft thudding sound.

"You're brothers are planning to move back here.." Hanako trailed off as keiji raised an eyebrow.

"What?" keiji scoffed in slight disbelief as Hanako pursed her cherry colored lips, turning her gaze back to her youngest son as she nodded.

"Yeah...kou called me...he told me him and tooru were moving back" Hanako trailed off as keiji scoffed crossing his arms, his one chipper mood quickly going sour.

"...why?" His bitter tone catching Hanako off guard as keiji held an unpleasant grimace on his face.

Hanako shrugged softly, bringing her thumb to her mouth biting on the nail softly as she gazed at keiji.

"I'm not sure...he didn't specify" Hanako said slowly, almost as if she was trying to piece together the honestly surprising load of information.

keiji abruptly stood up, the sudden shift in atmosphere caused Hanako to jump slightly, her eyes narrowing into concerned half moons as keiji began to gather his things.

"I need a walk" keiji muttered, leaving his mother to her own dismay as he began his departure off his family's grove.

"June First"

[aeoevv]

Barn Burning, by Haruki Murakami

I met her three years ago at a friend's wedding reception, here in Tokyo, and we got to know each other. There was nearly a dozen years' age difference between us, she being twenty and I thirtyone. Not that it mattered much. I had a lot else on my mind then, and didn't have time to worry about things like age. Plus, I was married, but that didn’t seem to bother her either. She was studying with a famous mime, and working as an advertising model to make ends meet. But she usually found it too much trouble to go out on the modeling assignments she was given, so her income didn't amount to much. What it didn't cover, her boyfriends made up. Of course, I don't know for sure. But things she said, seemed to hint at that kind of arrangement. As I mentioned, when I first met her she told me she was studying mime. One night, we were out at a bar, and she showed me the Tangerine Peeling. As the name says, it involves peeling a tangerine. On her left was a bowl piled high with tangerines; on her right, a bowl for the peels. At least that was the idea. Actually, there wasn't anything there at all. She'd take an imaginary tangerine in her hand, slowly peel it, put one section in her mouth, and spit out the seeds. When she'd finished one tangerine, she'd wrap up all the seeds in the peel and deposit it in the bowl to her right. She repeated these movements over and over again. When you try to put it in words it doesn't sound like anything special. But if you see it with your own eyes for ten or twenty minutes (almost without thinking, she kept on performing it) gradually the sense of reality is sucked right out of everything around you. It's a very strange feeling. “You're pretty talented," I told her. "This? It's easy. It has nothing to do with talent. What you do isn't make yourself believe that there are tangerines there. You forget that the tangerines are not there. That's all." I could see we were going to get along. We didn't go out all that often. About once a month, twice at most. I'd call her up and ask her where she'd like to go. We'd have something to eat, have a few drinks in a bar, and talk up a storm. I'd listen to her talk, she'd listen to me. We had hardly anything in common to talk about, but that didn't matter. I guess you'd say we were friends. Naturally, I paid for everything, all the food and drink. A few times she called me up, usually when she'd run out of money and was hungry. On those occasions she ate like you wouldn't believe. I was completely relaxed when I was with her. I could erase everything from my mind all the work I didn't want to do, the jumble of senseless ideas people carry around in their heads. She had that effect on me. She didn't talk about anything in particular. Often I would just keep nodding my head, not really picking up the gist of her words. But listening to her made me feel relaxed, as if I were gazing at drifting clouds far off in the distance. In the spring of the year after we met, her father died, and she inherited a little money from him. At least that's what she told me. She said she wanted to use the money to go to North Africa. I don't know why she picked North Africa, but I went ahead and introduced her to a woman I knew who worked at the Algerian Embassy in Tokyo. So off she went to Algeria. As things turned out, I went to see her off at the airport. She carried just one beatup old bag with a few changes of clothes stuffed inside. Going through the luggage check, she looked more like she was going home to North Africa than taking a trip there. "Are you going to come back to Japan?" I asked her, jokingly. "Of course I am," she replied. Three months later she was back, seven pounds lighter and tanned a deep brown and with a new boyfriend. It seemed the two of them met at a restaurant in Algiers. Since there weren't many Japanese there, they grew close. As far as I knew, he was the first steady boyfriend she'd ever had. He was in his late twenties, tall, impeccably dressed, and wellspoken. His face was somewhat expressionless, but he was handsome enough, and came across as a pleasant sort of guy. His hands were large, with long fingers. I knew that much about him because I went to pick her up at the airport. A telegram had come all of a sudden from Beirut with just the date and flight number. When the plane arrived (four hours late, because of bad weather) the two of them appeared at the gate arm in arm, looking like some nice young married couple. She introduced me to him, and we shook hands. He had the firm handshake of a person who'd lived abroad a long time. She said she was dying for a bowl of tempura and rice, so we went to a restaurant, and she had some while he and I had a couple of draught beers. "I'm in the importexport business," he told me. But he didn't say anything more about it. Maybe he didn't want to talk about his job, or maybe he thought I'd find it boring. I didn't ask any questions. When she'd finished her tempura, she gave a deep yawn and said she was sleepy. She looked like she was going to fall asleep right on the spot; she had the habit of nodding off at the most unexpected times. He said he'd take her home by cab. I told them the train would be fluster for me. I had no idea why I'd gone to all the trouble of coming out to the airport. I'm glad I could get to know you," he said, somewhat apologetically. "Same here," I replied. I saw him again several times after that. Whenever I ran into her, there he'd be, right beside her. And if I had a date with her he'd drive her to wherever we were supposed to meet. He drove a silver sports car, German. I know next to nothing about cars, so I can't really describe it well. "He must be pretty well off, don't you think?" I asked her once. "Yeah,"she answered without much interest. "Guess so." "I wonder if you can make that much in foreign trade." "Foreign trade?" 'That's what he told me. He said he was in foreign trade." "Well, I guess he must be. But I don't know. He doesn't seem to be working anywhere. He meets a lot of people and makes a lot of phone calls, but he doesn't seem to be too wrapped up in it." Just like Gatsby, I thought. A young man who's a riddle. I thought, you have no idea what he does, really, but he never seems to be hurting for money. She called me one Sunday afternoon in October. My wife was out of town visiting some relatives, so I was home all alone. It was a beautiful, clear Sunday, and I was gazing at the trees in the garden, eating an apple. I must have eaten seven apples that day. This happens from time to time—I get a pathological craving for apples. "We were just in the neighborhood and wondered if we could drop by," she said. "We?" I asked. "Him and me," she said. "Sure, come on," I said. "O.K—we'll be over in half an hour," she said. I lay vacantly on the couch for a while, then got up and showered and shaved. I couldn't decide whether I should straighten up the house, and in the end decided not to. There wasn't enough time to do a thorough job of it, and if it can't be done right, I thought, better not bother with it at all. The room was littered with books, magazines, letters, records, pencils, and sweaters, but it didn't look that messy. A little after two, I heard a car pull up to the house. When I opened the door, I saw the silver sports car at the curb. She stuck her face out the window and waved. I showed them where to park, behind the house. "Well, here we are!" she said with a smile. She wore a light shirt that showed the outline of her figure through it, and an olivegreen miniskirt. He had on a navyblue blazer. Somehow he seemed different, probably because of his twoday growth of beard. Getting out of the car, he took off his sunglasses and stuck them in his pocket. "I'm really sorry to drop in like this all of a sudden on your day off," he said. "No problem," I said. "Today is a day off for me. And I was just ready for some company." "We brought a meal," she said, and she hauled a large white paper sack from the rear seat of the car. "A meal?" "Nothing special. We just thought that since we dropped in on you on a Sunday we'd better bring something to eat," he said. "Great. All I've had today is apples." We went inside and laid the food out on the table. Quite a spread: roastbeef sandwiches, salad, smoked salmon, and blueberry ice cream—and plenty of everything. While she arranged it all on plates, I got some white wine out of the refrigerator and uncorked it. It looked like we were having ourselves a little party. "Let's eat. I'm starved," she said, famished as usual. We munched our sandwiches, ate our salad, and helped ourselves to the smoked salmon. When we'd polished off the wine, we drank some canned beer from the fridge. One thing you can always count on at my place, is a fridge full of beer. His color didn't change at all, no matter how much he drank. I’m a pretty good beer drinker myself. She had a couple of cans with us, and in less than an hour the table was lined with empties. She selected a couple of records from the shelf and set them on the player. The first album was Miles Davis. We talked about audio equipment for a while, and he fell quiet. Then he said, "I've got some grass, if you'd care for a smoke." I wasn't sure how to react. I'd just given up smoking cigarettes a month before; it was touch and go whether I could shake the habit for good, and I had no idea what effect smoking marijuana would have on me. But I decided to give it a try. He took out the darkcolored leaves in a foil wrapper from the bottom of the paper sack, rolled the grass into a sheet of cigarette paper, and licked the glued edge. He lit up with his lighter and took a few drags to make sure the joint was going before passing it over to me. We sat there silently for a while, smoking without speaking. Miles Davis was over, and a collection of Strauss waltzes began to play. Not your usual programming, I thought. But not bad. After we finished the first joint, she said she was sleepy. She hadn't gotten enough rest the night before, apparently, and the three beers and the grass knocked her out. I showed her upstairs and put her to bed. She asked to borrow a Tshirt. I gave her one. She stripped down to her underwear, pulled on the shirt; and lay down on the bed. "Are you cold?" I asked, but she was already snoring away. Shaking my head, I went back downstairs. In the living room her boyfriend was rolling a second joint. He was something. Given a choice, I'd rather have snuggled up next to her in bed and taken a good nap, but that was out. I smoked the second joint with him, the Strauss waltzes still going. For some reason I remembered a play we'd done back in grade school. I was the owner of a glove shop. A baby fox comes in looking for gloves, but he doesn't have enough money to buy them. "You can't buy gloves with that," I say. The villain. "But Mama is so cold. Her paws are all chapped. Please!" the baby fox begs. "Sorry, but it's not enough. Save up your money and come back later. If you do—" "—sometimes I burn down barns," he said. "Excuse me?" I said. I was drifting off, and I must have heard him wrong. "Sometimes I burn down barns," he said again. I looked at him. He was tracing the design on his lighter with the tip of his fingernail. He sucked the marijuana smoke deep into his lungs, held it there for ten seconds, then slowly let it out. The smoke swirled up like ectoplasm from his mouth. "I brought this stuff back from India,” he said, “The best they had. You smoke this and all kinds of memories rush out at you. Light, smells, things like that. The quality of your memory" he paused in a leisurely way, and, as if searching for the right words, lightly snapped his fingers a couple of times " is like something you've never experienced before. Don't you think so?" I do, I told him. I was lost in memories of the commotion on the gradeschool stage, of the smell of paint on the cardboard scenery. "I'd like to hear about the barns," I said. He gazed at me. His face, as usual, was expressionless. "You don't mind me telling you about it?" he asked. "Go right ahead," I replied. "It's very simple, really. You pour gasoline around, throw on a lighted match and whoosh! It's all over. Takes less than fifteen minutes to burn to the ground. Of course, I'm not talking about large barns. More like sheds, really." "So..." I said, and I stopped. I couldn't figure out how to go on. "So why do you burn down barns?" "Is it strange?" "I'm not sure. You burn barns, and I don't. Obviously there's a difference between the two.” He sat there blankly for a time. His mind seemed all twisted around, like putty. Or maybe it was my mind that was all twisted around. "I burn roughly one barn every two months," he said. And snapped his fingers again. “That seems about the right pace. For me, that is." I nodded vaguely. The right pace? "So, are these your own barns you burn?' I asked. He looked at me as if he had no idea what I was talking about. "Why would I burn down my own barns? What makes you think I own so many barns?" "So, what you're telling me," I said," is you burn other people's barns, correct?" "That's right," he said. "Of course that's right. Other people's barns. So it's illegal. Just like you and me sitting here smoking grass definitely against the law.” I was silent, resting my elbows on the arms of the chair. "I burn other people's barns without their permission. Of course, I always choose one that won't turn into a fouralarm blaze. I don't want to start a fire—just burn down barns." I nodded, and snuffed out the stub of the joint. "But if you're caught you'll be in trouble. It's arson, after all. You blow it and you could wind up in jail." "I won't get caught," he said casually. "I pour on the gasoline, strike a match, and take off. Then I have a good time watching it all from a distance with binoculars. I won't get caught. The police aren't going to comb the streets over a lousy little barn burning down." He was probably right, I thought. And no one would ever think that a welldressed young man driving an expensive foreign car would be running around torching barns. "Does she know about it?" I asked, pointing upstairs. "She doesn't know a thing. Actually, I've never told another soul. It's not the kind of topic you can bring up with just anybody." "Then why me?" He spread the fingers of his left hand straight out and rubbed his cheek. The whiskers made a scratchy, dry sound, like a bug crawling over a taut sheet of paper. "You're a writer, so I thought you must be interested in patterns of human behavior. Writers are supposed to appreciate something for what it is, before they hand down a judgment. Besides, I wanted to talk about it with someone. The way I'm explaining it might be a little weird, I guess. The world's full of barns, that are, almost waiting for me to burn them down. A barn all by itself beside the ocean, a barn in the middle of a rice paddy . . . Anyhow, all kinds of barns. Give me fifteen minutes, and I'll burn them to the ground, so it looks like there was never any barn there to begin with. No one gets choked up over it. It just . . . disappears. Whoosh!" "But you're the one who judges that they're expendable, right?" "I don't judge anything. The barns are waiting to be burned. I just accept that. I merely accept what's there. It's like the rain. The rain falls. The river swells up. Something gets carried away in the flow. Is the rain making a judgment? It's not like I'm out to commit an immoral act. I have my own code of morality.” We sat there, silent and still for a while, waiting, it seemed, for the glow to wear off. I had no clue what I should say next. I felt as if I were looking through a train window watching a weird landscape flash in and out of view. "Care for another beer?" I asked after a while. “Thanks. Don't mind if I do." I brought out four cans from the kitchen, along with some Camembert cheese. We had two beers each and ate the cheese. "When was the last time you burned down a barn?" I asked him. "Let me see." He thought for a while. "This summer, the end of August." "And when are you going to burn down your next one?" "I don't know. I'm not going by some schedule, circling dates on the calendar. I burn a barn when I get the urge to." "But when you want to burn one, there isn't always the kind you're looking for just waiting for you, is there?" "Of course not," he said quietly. "So I make sure I've got a good one picked out in advance." "Have you, already decided on your next barn?" Frown lines formed between his eyes. And he breathed in a rush of air through his nose. "Yes. I've already found it" I didn't say anything, just sipped at what was left of my beer. "It's a wonderful barn. It's a long time since I've seen one so well worth burning. Actually, I came over here today to check it out." "You mean it's around here?" "Very close by," he said. So ended our discussion of barns. He woke up his girlfriend at five, and apologized again for having dropped in on me out of the blue. Even though he'd drunk a huge amount of beer, he was cold sober. He drove the car out from behind the house. It had one small nick, near the headlight. "I"ll keep an eye out for those barns," I said in farewell. "Right," he said. "Anyhow, remember it's right nearby?' "What do you mean, 'barns'?" she asked. "Just something between us men," he replied. "I see," she said. And they disappeared. The next day, I went to the bookstore and bought a map of the part of town where I live. Map in hand, I walked the neighborhood, marking with a pencil the location of every barn. Over three days, I explored an area two and a half miles in each direction. My home was on the outskirts of town, with quite a few farms still around, so there were lots of barns. I counted sixteen. The barn he planned to burn must be one of those. The way he'd said that it was right nearby made me sure it wasn't beyond the area I'd covered. Next, I made a careful check of each of the sixteen barns. First, I eliminated the ones too close to other people's houses. Next, I crossed off the ones that had farm tools and pesticides inside that is, ones that looked as though someone was using them every day. I was sure he wouldn't want to burn one of those. That left five barns. Five barns that could be burned. The kind that could burn down in fifteen minutes, and would burn clear to the ground—and wouldn't be any loss. But I couldn't decide which of the five he'd pick. It was a question of personal preference. I was dying to find out which one it would be. I spread out the map and erased all but five of the "X"s I'd made. Then I got out my Tsquare, French curve, and divider, and I mapped out the shortest route that would pass all five barns and take me back home. The route curved along the river and over some hills, and ended up being four and onethird miles. At six the next morning I put on my jogging outfit and running shoes and ran the length of the course I'd mapped out. Since I usually do three and a half miles every morning, adding an extra mile didn't bother me too much. The scenery wasn't bad, and though there were two railroad crossings along the way, they didn't really slow me down. The course circled the athletic grounds of the college near my house, then ran along the river and nearly two miles up a deserted dirt road. The first barn was halfway up the road. Then the course cut through a wood and up a slight slope. Another barn. A little way off, there was a stable for a racetrack The horses might kick up a little ruckus if they saw a fire, but that's all; they wouldn't get hurt or anything. The third and fourth barns looked alike, like two ugly old twins. They were only two hundred or so yards apart. Both of them were dilapidated and filthy. If you were going to burn down one of them, you might as well burn the pair. The last barn stood beside a railroad crossing, at about the threeandahalfmile mark. It was clearly abandoned. It faced the road and had a tin PepsiCola sign nailed to it. The building itself I'm not sure you could even call it a building anymore had mostly collapsed. It fit his description a building just waiting for someone to commit it to the flames. I stopped in front of the last barn, took a few deep breaths, then crossed the railroad tracks and headed home. The run took thirtyone minutes and thirty seconds. I ran the same course every morning for a month. But none of the barns burned down. Sometimes the thought hit me that maybe he was trying to get me to burn down a barn. As if he'd filled my head with the image of a barn burning and were steadily inflating it more and more, like putting air in a bicycle tire. There were even times when I thought that, as long as I was waiting for him to do it, I might as well go ahead and strike a match and burn one down. It's just a beatup old barn, right? But that's going too far. After all, it's not me who burns barns, it's him. No matter how much the image of burning barns might swell up in my head, I'm just not the barnburning type. Maybe he decided on some other barn somewhere. Or was too busy to find the time to burn one. I didn't hear from her at all. December came, and with it the end of fall, and the morning air turned cold. No change in the barns, just white frost covering their roofs. The world moved on as always. The next time I saw him was that December, a few days before Christmas. Wherever you went, Christmas carols were playing. I was busy walking around town buying presents for all sorts of people. Over near Nogizaki, I spotted his car in the parking lot of a coffee shop. There was no mistaking that silver sports car, with the small scratch next to the left headlight. Without thinking, I went inside. The interior of the shop was dark, with a strong aroma of coffee. People's voices were muted, and baroque music played softly in the background. I spotted him right away. Seated by the window, he was drinking cafe au lait. I just said hello. I didn't tell him I'd seen his car parked out front; I happened to come into the shop and happened to run into him. "Mind if I sit down?" I asked. "Not at all," he said. We chatted for a while. But our conversation went nowhere. We didn't have much to say to each other, and his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Even so, he didn't appear to mind my sharing his table. He told me about the harbor in Tunisia. And about the shrimp they catch there. It wasn't that he felt obliged to talk; he just wanted to tell me about the shrimp. But the story ran out halfway through, like a trickle of water being sucked up by sand. He raised his hand, called a waiter over, and ordered a second cup of cafe au lait. "By the way, whatever happened to that barn?" I ventured to ask him. A trace of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Ahyou still remember, I see," he said. He took his handkerchief out of his pocket, wiped his mouth, and put the handkerchief back in his pocket. "I burned it, of course. Burned it right down. Just like I said I would." "Near my house?" "Yes. Right nearby." "When?" "A while back, ten days after we dropped by your house." Then I told him how I marked the locations of the barns on a map how I ran past them once a day. "So I couldn't have missed it," I said. "You're quite meticulous, aren't you?" he said brightly. "Meticulous and logical. But you must have overlooked it. That happens sometimes. A thing's too close, and you miss it." "Well, I don't get it." He straightened his tie and glanced at his watch. “It's too close," he said. "But I have to be going. Why don't we have a nice long talk about it next time? You'll have to excuse me, but someone's waiting for me." There was no reason to keep him any longer. He stood up and put his cigarettes and lighter in his pocket. "Oh, by the way, have you seen her since that day?" he asked. "No, I haven't. Have you?" "No. I can't get hold of her. She isn't in her apartment, I can't get through by phone, and she hasn't been going to her mime class for a long time." "I imagine she just took off for somewhere. She's done that a number of times." He stood there, hands stuck in his pockets, and stared at the tabletop. "With no money, for a month and a half. She's not the kind who can make it on her own, you know." He snapped his fingers inside his pocket a couple of times. “She doesn't have a cent," he continued. "Or any real friends, either. Her address book is crammed, but those are just names. There's not a single person she can depend on. You're the only one she trusted. I'm not saying that to be polite. You were someone special to her. Even made me a bit jealous. And I'm not the kind of person who's ever jealous.” He gave a slight sigh and looked at his watch again. "I've really got to be going. Let's get together again sometime." I nodded. But the right words wouldn't come out. It was always that way. Whenever I was with him the words just wouldn't flow. I tried calling her a couple of times after that; until the phone company shut off her phone. I was a little worried, so I went to her apartment. Her door was locked. A sheaf of junk mail was stuffed in her mailbox. I couldn't locate the building supervisor, so I couldn't even find out if she still lived there. I tore a page from my appointment book, wrote a note saying, "Get in touch with me,” wrote my name, and dropped it in her mailbox. Not a word. The next time I visited her apartment, there was someone else's nameplate on the door. I knocked, but no one answered. Just like the last time, the building supervisor was nowhere to be found. So I gave up. That was almost a year ago. She just disappeared. I still run past the five barns every morning. No barn in my neighborhood has burned down. And I haven't heard about any barn burning. December's come again, and the winter birds fly overhead. And I keep on getting older.

[katzuyas]

[miyusawa] lips like tangerines

I’m so sorry this is late but dee?? babe??? ur a year older now?? what??? HAPPY BDAY @sawanko //sends u smooches dw we’ll love u even with gray hair and balding ;3c here’s a lil something from me to u on this special day which was yesterday but wELL //sweats ENJOY

Despite his hands freezing, nose getting runny and ears stinging from the biting chill, Kazuya didn’t hate winter. He loved the snow, the big, fluffy petals falling down from the sky just like cherry blossoms did in spring. He liked to watch kids play in it, all muddy and wet, but with happy smiles on their faces. He enjoyed the atmosphere of the quiet and the smell of the air, so fresh and sterile, reminding him a little of the long walks he used to take with his mom when she was still alive.

But what Kazuya liked in winter most was those silent days spent inside the dorms. It changed from how he was when he was younger. He used to leave the house as soon as he could just to not feel so alone, though now... now it was different. And the reason for it could only be one.

Sawamura slumped onto the floor below the bed, his own bed, where Kazuya was sprawled, watching TV on autopilot. A bowl of tangerines blocked his line of sight. They smelled fresh and lovely and Kazuya sniffed them with delight.

"Want some?" Sawamura asked. "My mom just sent me a whole box."

Kazuya hummed. The tangerines looked good, round and succulent. He couldn’t resist.

He lied his head on his hands, sending Sawamura a crooked smile. "Peel one for me?"

"Are you a child?" Sawamura grumbled, but before Kazuya could even say anything to that he was already reaching for the biggest tangerine he could find. "So spoiled, I swear…"

It made Kazuya’s grin sharpen. Sawamura was cute like that: he’d complain, he’d pout, he’d throw a jab at Kazuya whenever he could, but he’d do as asked and do his best from the bottom of his heart. Kazuya adored it about him. He was to blame for Sawamura’s cutty responses, for sure. And yet, not even for a second, did he regret it ­– Sawamura was just so amusing to play with.

He watched him slowly peel the thick skin off the fruit. The smell hit Kazuya’s nose and his mouth watered. Sawamura broke the tangerine into two halves and handed Kazuya one of them.

"Here," he said, but Kazuya didn’t take it.

"Feed me," he replied.

The blush was instantaneous. Sawamura’s cheeks turned pink, his eyes brightened and he reeled back as if Kazuya was about to jump him like a wolf does on a herd of sheep.

(Maybe he was.)

"Feed yourself, oh my god!" Sawamura exclaimed, adorably embarrassed. "It’s not like it’s that much work."

"Eh?" Kazuya whined. "But where’s the fun in that?"

"Ah, so that’s it, isn’t it?" Sawamura squinted at him. "You’re making fun of me? Miyuki Kazuya, you--!"

Kazuya chuckled. It was honestly incredible how easy it was to rile Sawamura up.

"Don’t laugh, you sneaky tanuki! You’re abusing my kindness here, you don’t get to laugh!"

Kazuya reached out a hand and grabbed his half of the peeled tangerine. He broke apart a single half-moon and before Sawamura could protest, he pressed it to Sawamura’s lips to shut him up. Which it did.

Golden eyes gleamed at him suspiciously in silent anger, but Sawamura’s lips gave and he allowed Kazuya to push the fruit into his mouth. Kazuya watched him chew, lick his lips, and glare at him still; he smirked. And then he leaned forward for a well-deserved kiss.

The strangled squeak that followed was music to Kazuya’s ears. He watched how Sawamura’s whole face turned red up to his ears and his eyes widened, only to half-close when with shy tenderness Sawamura returned the kiss. Kazuya’s hand sneaked over to his nape, hooking in the small hair there, to pull him closer. The sweet taste of tangerine spilled over his tongue when Sawamura's lips parted for him. Kazuya hummed happily into Sawamura’s warm, delicious mouth.

They kissed languidly for a moment more. Drunk on all the sweetness Kazuya finally broke away, licking his lips for the last time.

"Mm, tastes good," he said, smirking and loving how Sawamura’s blush deepened at his words.

"You’re impossible," Sawamura complained in a weak whine.

Kazuya chuckled at that. He leaned forward to press a passing kiss to Sawamura’s lips once more, and Sawamura let him without resistance.

"So…" Kazuya started, a nasty grin spreading on his face. "Feed me?"

Sawamura’s glazed eyes sharpened and he made a gibberish sound of helpless frustration. And then before Kazuya could as much as laugh at him, Sawamura grabbed his half of the tangerine and pushed it right into Kazuya’s mouth. Kazuya promptly choked on it, and on his laugher. He fell back onto the bed, chewing on the piece that got stuck between his teeth, and cackling like a lunatic.

The juice ran down his chin, so he lifted a hand to take out the fruit and wipe the it off, but Eijun was already there, hovering above him on a steady arm and biting into the other end of the tangerine, his nose close enough to touch Kazuya’s. In surprise, Kazuya’s laughter died in his throat and he watched Sawamura with breathless expectation.

And Sawamura, now flushed and embarrassed, bit off a piece and pulled back. Kazuya’s eyes followed him in wonder, and he was glad they did. Sawamura licked his lips, tilting his head in a way that made the coy blush on his face turn into something much more erotic, something that made Kazuya’s interest perk up like a wolf’s ears do when it spots its prey.

"Oh, Sawamura," Kazuya purred, hand lifting to touch one red cheek. "Life never gets boring with you around."

"Are you insulting me again?" Sawamura’s eyes narrowed, and Kazuya couldn’t help the small tremble of delight from dancing on his spine.

"Why, quite the opposite," he smirked. "I’m complimenting you."

Sawamura shot him a doubtful glance, but when Kazuya shifted closer to kiss him again, he leaned in and accepted the kiss with slightly pouty lips, which made Kazuya’s heart cry out from all the sudden influx of the adoration he had for the guy. Because Sawamura was just the thing that changed his whole world into this incredibly amusing journey and Kazuya, oh, Kazuya loved it.