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Kenjirou gave the boy in front of him an unamused stare as he sipped on his chocolate shake, and eighties music played from a jukebox in the back of the diner.
Osamu stared right back into Kenjirou’s eyes until the latter was uncomfortable and looked away with a blush gently spreading across his cheeks.
Osamu won.
“So,” Osamu begins, still mercilessly staring at Kenjirou, “wanna explain why I found you sitting alone in an Osaka diner?”
“Not really.” Kenjirou refuses to make eye contact in favor of watching the rain outside.
Osamu frowns for a moment but quickly returns to a less bothered expression. “I can respect that.”
Kenjirou whips his head around to look back at Osamu. “That was unexpected.”
“I told you I'm not a fuckboy,” Osamu replied quietly.
Kenjirou’s eyes narrowed once more as he gave that look to Osamu. “Generally, only fuckboys have to reassure people that they aren't.”
Shrugging, Osamu took another sip from his vanilla shake.
“You're annoying,” Kenjirou said.
“Just a little bit,” Osamu’s lips quirked upwards.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don't.”
“Whatever. Why did you walk into a diner alone, anyway?”
“Because I saw you in here.”
“I could have been waiting for someone.”
“Are you waiting for someone?”
Kenjirou sighed, “I was supposed to meet Eita here, but he missed his last train because the first one was delayed, and the next one isn’t until tomorrow morning.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Osamu frowned as he reached out a hand and placed it over one of Kenjirou’s.
“No, you're not.”
Osamu breathed in, gave Kenjirou one of those “Why do you have to make things so awkward?” expressions, which Kenjirou replied to only with a mere roll of the eyes.
Osamu wondered when he’d be worth more than an eye roll to Kenjirou. Probably not for a while. Whatever.
“Stop looking so sad; you look like a sick puppy,” Shirabu finally said.
“Not looking sad? Me?”
“It isn’t that hard.”
“Says the source of my sadness.” A dramatized sigh escaped Osamu’s lips.
“You’re blaming this on me? You’re the idiot who fell in love. It’s your fault.”
Osamu kept calm, deadpanning, “Who said I was in love with you? Watch your choice of words.” Osamu remembered his brother’s words: Keep cool, and act like you don’t care.
Then again, Atsumu probably wasn’t the best person to get love advice from.
“If you don’t love me, then why do you keep finding excuses to talk to me?” Kenjirou glared and pulled his hand away from under Osamu’s.
“Because I like you.”
“Whatever. You’re an idiot.”
“Are you implying that only idiots like you?” Osamu teased, but not really. He wasn’t sure why he said that.
“Apparently fucking so,” Kenjirou exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes, yet again.
“What about Semi?”
“What about him?” Kenjirou’s voice was bitter, more bitter than before.
“Is he an idiot, too?” Osamu tried to mute any tone or to at least convey a soft one, one that wouldn’t irritate Kenjirou any further.
“You tell me,” Kenjirou’s tone softened, just a little, but Osamu knew he was still upset because he joined the Angry Milkshake Drinkers Club.
“I don’t know him very well, so can’t really say so myself.”
“Say, ‘Yes.’”
Admittedly, Osamu was confused, but he could play along. “Uh, did you say Semi? Guy’s a total knob.”
“Glad you agree.” Kenjirou exhaled with vigor.
“What happened with Semi?”
“Nothing,” Kenjirou hesitated, “nothing yet, anyway.”
“Talk to me.”
Kenjirou spent a good two minutes looking into Osamu’s eyes before he decided to talk. “He was probably going to break up with me after we met up.” His eyes flickered downward, melancholy.
“What makes you think that?”
“He’s been acting weird, and we got into a fight over — I don’t even remember what — and you’re here, and this is fucking stupid.”
“The fight probably wasn’t that important if you can’t remember what it was about, and there’s no way he’s breaking up with you. That’d be stupid.”
Osamu spoke too soon; Kenjirou’s phone dinged in his pocket. It was from Semi, of course it was.
[7:23 p.m.
From: Semi]
I don’t think this is working out.
I’m sorry, I was going to wait, but I really can’t anymore.
Kenjirou shoved the screen at Osamu.
“That’s… Not good,” Osamu uttered — because he was socially awkward and had no idea how to console someone who had just been broken up with.
“It’s over with, I guess.”
“Are you gonna, uh, reply?”
Kenjirou raised an eyebrow at Osamu. “Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“What should I say?”
Having never been faced with being broken up with, Osamu had no idea what to say. “I don’t know.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll just say, ‘Okay,” Kenjirou decided and began typing.
“That’s a little harsh.”
“Breaking up with someone over text is harsh.”
“Fair point.”
And now, Kenjirou was single. Really single, not just single in Osamu’s dreams. But now, the problem was making Kenjirou like him back, and really like him back, not just like him back in Osamu’s dreams.
“Did he answer?”
“He just said he’s sorry, again.” Kenjirou put his phone back in his pocket and looked down at his half-empty milkshake.
“Is there anything I can do?” Osamu asked.
“Yeah, leave.”
That wasn’t an answer Osamu wanted.
Did Kenjirou really want him to leave? He searched Kenjirou’s eyes for an answer, but he found nothing. Maybe Kenjirou really wanted him to go.
“Alright.” Osamu got up, and he shouldn’t have, and he knew he shouldn’t have, but he did anyway, and Kenjirou didn’t say anything, but he should have. He really should have.
The sound of the rain pouring against the concrete filled Kenjirou’s ears as Osamu opened the glass door, leaving it swinging in his wake.
And then it came to a standstill, and Kenjirou could breathe again.