Archive of Our Own

Sho shifts in his seat. He’s tried sitting upright, before uncrossing his legs, and with one hand still clutching on his bag next to him, he sighs again. Nervousness won’t help, he repeats in his mind for the umpteenth time. He crosses his legs again before leaning to the backrest of the park bench despite the uncomfortable posture. Just relax, he tells himself, and keep calm.

Sho likes parks.

He likes this park, he reminds himself; it’s one of the reasons he chose this spot for today.

It’s a bit cold since the early autumn afternoon decided to be cloudy, and the smell of the fallen leaves tastes like burned mochi. The spot he’s chosen is also a bit farther from the park entrance and the popular picnic spots—the sound of water singing in the pond smells like old wood—but it’s quieter here. And with the soothing and calm lake in front of him, Sho doesn’t have to face the crowds. He doesn’t have to take in the world, and even only for a short lunch break he can just sit there and be.

Crossing his legs again, Sho looks down to check his phone. He’s early, an old habit, but soon it’s going to be the time. He doesn’t know how this lunch break meeting will pan out, and that is the thing that stresses him the most.

A soft voice startles him.

A soft voice, that smells like brightness, asks. “Excuse me?”

Sho turns slowly, his gaze meeting a man smiling tentatively at him and standing at the other side of the bench, body bowed slightly in greeting. A gorgeous man, he corrects himself, seemingly a little breathless like he’s been jogging his way here.

A faint streak of lushness hits Sho.

Wind has ruffled with the man’s hair, its smoothness and shine, to Sho, tasted like dark chocolate. His long black coat is unbutton showing a fluff pink sweater, which to Sho sounded honeyed and comfortable. When Sho still doesn’t say anything, the man asks again. “Sho-kun?”

“Yes.”

The man’s smile widens, and Sho can only think of one thing: brown sweet and butter.

“I’m Aiba Masaki,” this man, Aiba, says. “I hope I’m not late?”

“No. No, you’re not,” Sho says, shaking his thoughts off to nod his greeting with a small smile. He uncrosses his legs, wiped his sweaty palm against his jeans, and straightens in his seat. “I’m just early. Please have a seat.”

Aiba flashes him another smile before he looks down to adjust the tote bags he is carrying, and Sho just realized that he’s having three of them. He pulls his own bag closer to his side, allowing as much as space in the middle of the bench for Aiba and his bags.

When Aiba finally takes a seat on the other end, he turns to Sho. “I feel like I have to apologize for only being able to answer your request at this hour—it’s the only time I’m free on Wednesday. I brought lunch though. Have you had lunch?”

“What? Lunch? No— I’m— I thought—” Sho tries to say.

He thought they were going to have this meeting and he would have to talk to Aiba, but he certainly wasn’t expecting a lunch offer. True, the hour Aiba requested has been a bit inconvenient and Sho has planned to have his lunch later after this.

“We can share. I brought sandwiches,” Aiba says, seemingly unfazed by Sho’s surprise. He begins to unpack his first tote bag and produces a large lunch box, handing it to Sho without looking, already trying to unpack his second bag.

In reflex, Sho accepts the first box in confusion. And soon enough, Aiba managed to arrange all the content of his tote bag on the bench, quickly folding the bags and shoving them into his backpack. He sets three bottles of water next to the boxes before looking up and smiling to Sho. “I don’t know what you like so I kind of went overboard and got almost everything.”

Almost everything it is, Sho has to say when Aiba begins to open the boxes, revealing neat rows of sandwiches in different fillings. He can see sandwiches with smoked beef, chicken, eggs, tuna mayonnaise, and even ebi furai. Smaller boxes reveal portions of salad with cucumbers, lettuce, some mushrooms he doesn’t know, spinach and tomatoes.

Sho startles a bit when he feels a soft touch on his arm—it tastes like fluttering wings. He looks up, trying hard to fight the warmth rising up his cheeks, and meets Aiba’s stare. “Yes?”

“Let’s dig in?” Aiba smiles at him before turning and handing out a wet wipe package.

“Oh,” Sho says, clutching his bag with his arm closer and accepting the package. As he wipes his hand, his eyes stay in the feast between them, licking his lips and realizing that his stomach has been grumbling rather loudly. “But I don’t— Is it really okay?”

When Aiba nods and gestures Sho to take one, Sho nods his thanks and gingerly picks an egg sandwich.

The first bite has him closing his eyes and moaning softly—the eggs are so soft and it has the right amount of mayonnaise—and without a second thought, he quickly stuffs the second half into his mouth.

A soft chuckle causes him to open his eyes and turns, finding Aiba watching him as he holds a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. Sho’s about to say something when he realizes that he’s still trying to chew the sandwich in his mouth, slight embarrassment flushed up his stuffed cheeks.

“All the egg sandwiches are yours then,” Aiba says, his hand absently touching Sho’s arm for a split second.

Sho goes still.

Warm.

Aiba’s fleeting touch is warm.

A soft rub against Sho’s arm sends a warm coursing through him, and the air around them blooms into the smell of gleaming butterscotch.

He looks down on the half-eaten sandwich on his hand, and steals a glance at Aiba, who’s already on this third sandwich and in the middle of trying to pick his next one.

To distract himself from overthinking Sho goes for another sandwich, this time a smoked beef sandwich, which tastes almost as amazing as his first.

He finds himself humming his thanks to Aiba when Aiba sets one of the salad boxes in front of him and they continue to eat in comfortable silence.

“These are not regular konbini sandwiches,” Sho says after putting down his salad box and taking gulps of water, his thoughts about the warmth temporarily forgotten. “These are amazingly delicious.”

Aiba smiles. “They’re from one of the shops I frequented. They were a bit surprised when I ordered this much though.”

Sho looks down and sees they both almost finished two boxes and then the last one is already halfway empty. “Oh, I'm sorry.”

“It’s completely okay. It’s been a while since I can have lunch at the park.” Aiba chuckles again as he hands Sho a fork for the salad; this time the tips of his fingers brush Sho’s sweaty palm.

Sho goes still, again.

The same warmth.

He shouldn’t make a big deal out of it, Sho decides. Other people have prompted senses out of him—although warmth is not something he’s used to, usually reserved to his close trusted people. And for Aiba to bring such sensation in their first meeting may be a good sign, his senses tell him to try to trust Aiba.

“Me too,” Sho manages to say after a few moment of silence. He brings himself to focus on Aiba’s light question. If he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t even remember the last time he had lunch at the park like this. His gaze returns to the pond in front of him, still with its quiet old wood smell.

And with the continuing bloom of gleaming butterscotch, he feels his heartbeat slowing down, the damp cold on his palm gone, and realizes that he’s not nervous anymore; Sho shifts in his seat, realizing that he’s been sitting with ease, leaning on the bench. He had a nice fulfilling healthy lunch, and next to him, just as Nino promised him, Aiba has been very kind, a whirling comfort.

•

“I told you already. It went well,” Sho says when Nino asked him how his meeting with Aiba went for the third time. He was enjoying his first mouthful of hot scalding Chinese soba, and of course that’s when Nino considers the best time to start asking him questions.

“That’s good,” Nino says, still with a hint of disbelief in his voice. “But you don’t sound convincing, with all that slurping.”

Next to Nino, without looking up from his phone, without interrupting his own enthusiastic slurping of his shio ramen, Jun helpfully says, “Sho-kun missed breakfast this morning.”

“Is that so? Or did something actually happen when you met Aiba-chan?”

“It really went well, Nino” Sho says, setting down his chopsticks and making sure he’s meeting Nino’s questioning stare evenly. He feels slight flush on his cheek, mostly from the noodles but he knew he’s not fooling himself—it’s the memory—humming butterscotch—it’s all coming back to him now.

Nino squints, not fooled for a second, but Sho can see that he’s letting the topic go and asks another important question. “And are you going to see him again?”

Sho stays silent for a while. He picks up his chopsticks again, taking a mouthful and chewing slowly, before finally says, “Next week, same time same place.”

“That’s very good,” Nino says with a full grin now. “That’s progress, Sho-chan.”

Jun has set aside his bowl and now is sipping his water slowly. “So how was he? Nice?”

“He seems like a nice person.” He brought lunch, Sho wants to add, but he doesn’t think these two need to know that, at least not now.

And Nino rolls his eyes, his eyes still on Sho but he takes on leaning against Jun’s shoulder now. “Jun-kun was asking how you think of him. How do you sense him?”

Sho squints at both of them, pouting against the blooming smiles on both of Nino and Jun’s face; he hates it when they’re double teaming him like this, going straight for his impression of Aiba because they know that is what is important for Sho. He supposes he owes them some explanation though; after all, Nino and Jun have tried so long to get Sho to meet Aiba and try a new approach to find out more about Sho’s unusual senses.

“Whirling comforting brightness,” Sho finally reveals.

The grin on Nino’s face is in full bloom now. “I’ve never heard anything about someone bright coming from you. That’s very very good.”

•

The bench was still empty when Sho arrived. Nothing’s different, but since he’s been here before, everything starts to taste and sound familiar; the burned mochi smell a bit stronger and the water is not strongly smells like swishing today.

Somehow a sense of familiarity already; Sho likes that.

He’s only been sitting for a while when he sees Aiba jog toward him with a small wave.

“I’m very sure I’m not late today,” Aiba says, a bit breathless, when he arrives at their bench.

Sho smiles at him. “You’re not. I’m just early again.”

Aiba takes a seat with a loud huff, in his hand two tote bags this time. This time, Sho waits patiently, taking the view in front of him again; this time with a warm touch of butterscotch next to him.

He startles when he feels Aiba’s hand tapping his arm, and turns to see two neat boxes between them filled with onigiri. Like last week, there are water bottles, and in Aiba’s outstretched hand a tall go-cup of coffee.

Sho accepts the go-cup in with a nod, sighing at the warmth in his hand now. “Oh, thank you.”

“I forgot coffee last week, so this time I am making sure I have some for us. Also, they told me how they arranged this but I completely forgot,” Aiba says, already eyeing the boxes with an excited smile. He points at one row. “This should be the sake filling, and then maybe this is the ume, and I guess some are just mixed up—I hope you don’t mind—”

Sho is still a bit reeling over the soft touch on his arm, but he offers a smile. “This is already so much. At this rate, I probably need to pay, at least for lunch.”

Aiba laughs, shaking his head with amusement, and his laughter tastes beautiful on Sho’s senses. “It’s just lunch and I’m not Nino-chan.”

Sho joins him in laughter and before he can stop himself he says, “Maybe I should bring lunch next Wednesday.”

Aiba nods with his mouth full, eyes wide with delight. “Mhmm.”

Sho stays silent, only now realization hit that he has indirectly made another appointment for next week.

Now that they bring up Nino’s in their conversation, Sho wonders if he can still go around the true objective of this lunch meeting. Aiba has been kind enough not to talk about it last week—which he presumes as one of his gestures to comfort Sho on the new appointment.

He takes a short glance on Aiba who’s now sitting next to him, staring at the pond in front of them calmly, giving Sho the space he needed and here only for lunch. He’s grateful for the kindness, Sho really is, but sooner or later they would have to talk about why they are here.

After two pieces of onigiri and another sip of good coffee, Sho steels himself and asks: “How much has Nino been telling you?”

“Mhmm?”

“He said he told you the gist.”

“I wouldn’t use the word gist. Nino-chan can be so rude sometimes,” Aiba says, now turning to Sho and giving him a kind smile. “He sometimes shares stories about you.”

“Stories?”

“He never breaches confidentiality, if that’s what you’re worried about. And he has given me detailed instructions. And some threats. It was rather scary.”

This time Sho laughs, warm at the thought Nino had kept his promise of having Sho taken care by one of his best friends. “He was very convincing even though I’ve told him that I am not comfortable with a lot of things. And I never worry about that, I’m not sure why. I guess because it’s Nino.”

Aiba shifts a little next to him and waits for Sho to continue.

Sho looks down to the half eaten onigiri in his hand, trying to crush his nervousness now that they are getting to the point. “But I can’t help to be curious. How do you both talk about my case in sort of medical conversation?”

Aiba doesn’t laugh at his low voiced question and that calms him a bit. Sho slightly turns to face Aiba, who’s still sitting with his leg crossed, and meets Aiba’s soft smile. He says, “It’s not as intense or formal as you’re probably suspected actually. We can only meet up for drinking now with him opting to be cooped up in that hospital.”

He knows how rare it is for Nino to go drinking—Nino doesn’t even always go when Jun invites him out—in a way he knows how much Nino regards Aiba now.

Aiba continues, “He usually asked questions, nothing about you. But more like how I dealt with my patients.”

Sho nods, and takes another bite of his onigiri, not knowing how else he should respond. He does feel a bit relieved with how Aiba answered his question in straightforward manner, and that he’s not making a mistake by putting his trust in Nino.

“Anyway, it’s not after he asks for this arrangement that I connected everything. He was always asking about you.”

The last part sends another small wave of nervousness, tasting like raspberry. “So you sort of figured out what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Aiba says, his tone serious, his hand reached out to now hold Sho’s elbow, firm and sure. The statement—and the touch—brings delightful sensations, warmth twined with butterscotch. Sho has always thought something is wrong with him, something was wrong with him. It’s not the first time he heard this kind of assurance. But it’s the first one he heard that hits home and soothes his nerves comfortably.

“There’s nothing wrong with any of us,” Aiba continues when he seems sure he has all Sho’s attention, his hand squeezing lightly on Sho’s elbow.

Sho notices that Aiba has set his half-eaten onigiri and coffee go-cup. He now is fully facing Sho, repeating what he just said, in a softer tone. “There’s nothing wrong. Everything is just as it is.”

Sho wants to look away. He wants to look down and just focuses on the rest of onigiri in his hand. Sho wants to say so much, to thank Aiba for telling the things that he’s wanted to hear. Sho wants to say so much but he finds words are not with him right now. Sho wants to look away but he can’t.

Aiba is not smiling, his face serious, and Sho can feel his determination, his belief, his wholeheartedness; what he says is nothing like what Sho’s been hearing all his life—all those empty words of reassurance from people who doesn’t understand, all those pretend sympathy he usually gets when he pushed himself hard enough to even try to open up.

Aiba is shifting forward in his seat; half crushing an onigiri box and tipping it dangerously, now his right knee is touching Sho’s.

The taste gets more intense. Sho blinks. And just like that, the moment ends. This time it’s Aiba who's breaking their silence, his hand reaching out to touch Sho’s arm again. “May I ask something?”

Sho nods again, feeling a smile forming when he sees how gentle Aiba’s hand now resting on his arm.

“How long have you been consulting Nino-chan? I know you’ve been friends for a long time.”

Not as long as your friendship with him, Sho thinks. “More than a year, officially. But I wasn’t really comfortable talking about it. I still am.”

“Okay,” Aiba says, his hand now giving comforting small rub on Sho’s arm, silently urging him to continue.

“Nino has recommended you since the first time I had courage to brought this up. I kept on telling him that I didn’t need any help, just some ears. It’s just I need time to accept how it is,” Sho says, now he looks up and finds Aiba’s kind eyes and offers him a small smile. “I hope that’s okay.”

Aiba nods, reassuring. “Totally okay. You can take your time. We can take our time. You’re not in a rush, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.” Sho nods, this time his smile feels genuine. “Thank you.”

Aiba only shakes his head with a smile. “I enjoy our lunch hour greatly. There’s no rush. We can work things out way slowly. Would it be fine if we set up another schedule?”

“Yes, please,” Sho said, relieved. He likes schedule and that would make this one like a set routine, which is better for him. “Does next week work for you? Same time here?”

“Yes.” Aiba said and then he went to get his phone and started to type something that most probably his schedule book. He also realizes that it’s already past lunch hour and: “I really need to go back.”

Sho assures Aiba that he can deal with tidying up the boxes and plastics. He waves back at Aiba as he watches him jogging toward the park exit.

The same warmth, with more intensity, is coursing through Sho, and somehow he’s already looking forward to next week.

•

Jun insists they order dessert, telling the waiter they’ll be having some tasty tofu pudding with ginger syrup. And now that they finished lunch, Sho has no other distraction. He finally sets on addressing the last important question that Nino hasn’t asked. “Aren’t you at least going to ask what happened?”

Nino chuckles, and Jun hums with his raised eyebrows. “Are you going to tell us what happened? You refused to tell us anything last week.”

“And you said it went well,” Jun adds as he helps the waiter set down their dessert order. “Was there something else?”

“It went well, same as last week. But, I still don’t understand how this is supposed to go.”

Nino ignores the steaming bowl Jun has just set down in front of him, keeping his gaze straight at Sho, knowing that underneath Sho’s dismissive tone the question is genuine. “You just started this, and you could cancel this arrangement anytime. You said it went well, so that’s a good start. Unless there’s something about that didn’t set right with you?”

“He’s just so bright,” Sho ends up saying. He doesn’t say that he also finds Aiba radiates calmness, one that he’s never experienced—Nino and Jun don’t need to know that now.

“And you said he’s also calming. That’s a good thing, right?”

“I suppose so,” Sho says, picking up his spoon but not moving his hand further to partake his dessert. “I’m just not used to it.”

“With both of us being so dark, or so you keep on telling us,” Nino says with a chuckle.

“Well, you both are.” Sho rolls his eyes this time, huffing quietly when Jun laughs at his answer, trying to deflect the knowing smiles. To be honest, none of them are literally dark to Sho—sure, Jun sometimes smells like dark chocolate but he’s lucent, and Nino, well, Nino can be a sour lustre sometimes but he’s mostly honeyed.

Nino leans forward toward him again, this time with a concern in his voice. “You do know if you’re not comfortable with him, I could recommend another anytime.”

Therapist, Nino didn’t say but Sho catches it all the same. “He’s okay, and he doesn’t look like a therapist. He’s—”

“A goofball,” Nino completes his sentence with a grin. He now picks up his spoon and begins to stir his bowl.

Sho frowns. Aiba certainly doesn’t look like it. “I was going to say he looks like a model, but—“

“Trust me, he’s a goofball. You’ll soon find out.”

He’s a butterscotch; Sho feels a strange urge to defend Aiba but deciding against it and to keep it to himself for now— Nino and Jun don’t need to know that now too.

•

Aiba brings four rice bowls of different kinds next Wednesday, and Sho is overwhelmed. Aiba lets him choose which one, and then they end up sharing two of the four together because Aiba cannot decide if he wants the salmon one or the tuna one.

And when Aiba segues seamlessly this time, it doesn’t surprise Sho at all. “May I ask you a question?”

Sho can’t stop his reflex, straightening up so suddenly that his back hits the bench. He hates questions from therapists, they always want to know what’s wrong with him. But Aiba has said there’s nothing wrong with him, he remembers. Still, he takes his time before he nods.

Aiba continues with an explanation, most probably sensing that Sho has gone uncomfortable by the sudden question. “You don’t have to answer it. I just want to know, if you’re willing to let me know that’d be good.”

Sho took a deep breath. It’s just it’s very difficult to open up. He reminded himself that Nino had vouched for Aiba, but still. What kind of question? Would it be a difficult one? “Okay. Option is good.”

“If we are to start a session, what do you hope to come out of it?”

“If we were,” Sho corrects Aiba and makes sure he gets his correction across, only continuing until Aiba gives him a nod. He must have known that Sho hasn’t fully accepted this offer. Nino should’ve told him that much. “All I want is to understand.”

He turns and steels himself to see Aiba frowning in confusion to him just like the other doctors he tried but there’s none. Only a gentle nod.

“Very well. To understand is always the hardest but we can work things out.”

Silence falls again but this time Sho feels Aiba is giving him time to give his thought. He decides that he’s going to go with some honesty, for starters.

“Others I’ve consulted before didn’t provide anything besides telling me to accept it as it comes. Nino says there might not be answers but I could get an understanding, just so I can accept this. Nino’s help has been a lot but I want to try to accept this, and I want to do something.”

Aiba nods, his gentle smile unwavering. “This is also something new for me, working with you, so I might also have things I’m lacking. If you’re willing then I’d be more than happy to try to work with you

There’s only good words--because not that Sho’s going to go with someone who’s better than him, but they are trying together. It’s going to be like with Nino but with someone who has more knowledge. Sho felt the sincerity and it’s been all the good vibe so far. Sho at least trusts his sensate. Nino might get this one right. “I’m willing to try. Just, not too fast.”

“Okay.”

They sat together silently after. Sho notices only three sandwiches remain and he sips his water and then just sitting there, belly full, nice companion, and he’s no longer jittery.

“This is okay.”

•

Jun comes to their table with a huff; his work stress always tasted balmy and this time it’s no different.

Sho greets him quickly before turning his attention back to Nino who is now unusually serious in picking his Kung Pao chicken. “And back to you. Don’t you think I forgot where we were—”

“Sho-chan, I’ve told you. He likes everything.”

“What’s this about?” Jun says after a mouthful of fried rice.

“Sho-chan is giving himself an unnecessary headache for not believing me when I told him Aiba-chan likes everything.”

“Nino. I’m being serious here.”

“And I’m being serious right back. You’ll do fine,” Nino says. “See, Jun-kun, please take him away.”

Jun just shrugs, nodding his thanks to the waiter who just noted his extra order before turning to Sho. “Are you planning something, Sho-kun?”

“I don’t know yet. And Nino is the one who’s giving me an unnecessary headache.”

“Oh, shut up. You asked what his favorite food is and I told you he likes everything. That’s the easiest of easy. I’m being the super supportive friend that I am here.”

Quickly catching up, Jun takes a sip of his water and says, “If it makes you feel any better, he answered the same thing when Aiba-kun asked what’s your favorite food.”

Sho chokes. “What? Nino, how could you!”

Nino gives him a wide grin. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? He asked what’s your favorite food before your first meeting.

“And?”

“And I told him you like everything. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t like cilantro.”

“Has he brought anything with cilantro so far?”

“No, but—”

“Then you’re fine,” Nino said before he corrects himself. “You two are fine. Can we just finish this lunch in peace? I have two surgeries this afternoon.”

Sho squints at him; Nino always pulls the work excuse when he doesn’t want to talk more about something—same as he and Jun actually, so Sho sighs and says nothing else.

“If it makes you feel any better, when Aiba-kun insisted for more details—just as you are now—I did tell him you’d like sandwiches and onigiri,” Jun says helpfully as he cleans his plate. “Unfortunately I don’t know Aiba-kun’s favorite food.”

And Sho rolls his eyes this time. “Did you really?”

Nino chuckles, his hand reaching out to pat Sho’s hand. “Just bring anything you like, I’m sure he’d like it.”

That’s actually helpful advice, but Sho doesn’t want to admit it. And Nino’s touch tastes quiet and stillness, but Sho doesn’t want to admit it either. He opts to let Nino have the last say in this and steals his remaining Kung Pao chicken.

•

After going through a long list all weekend, this Wednesday Sho ends up bringing a full set of bento bought from a fancy place that does a special customize thing.

He’s made sure he arrives earlier than usual early and he arranges the boxes on the bench, wanting to be perfect. He was staring at his handywork and working through his mental checklist, causing him to miss Aiba appearing next to him.

“Wow.”

Sho startles, beating himself a bit at how he can miss the butterscotch warmth that he likes so much just now. “Uhmm, I brought lunch.”

“I can see that,” Aiba says with a bright smile; he sounds excited—which is a good sign, Sho delights. “This is a feast. You really don’t do things half-ass do you, Sho-kun.”

It is special, Sho wants to say as he fights off the flush he can feel rising on his cheeks. “This shop has excellent review and I’ve been wanting to try their bento box.”

“Let’s dig in then.”

Aiba sits down first this time and Sho realizes that it has been always Aiba who came last and he’s been adjusting to how Sho’s sitting, but now with the spread on the end of the bench, and Aiba on the other of the bench, leaving the middle part vacant; just enough for him to sit there, but he’s going to sit next to Aiba, and why do he feel warmth at the chance to be seated close to Aiba.

Aiba is waiting for him, flashing Sho a smile along with a subtle question, and Sho tries to shake off the thought and just takes a seat. He trusted Aiba.

He hands Aiba one bento box, before getting one for himself, and Sho is in the middle of the bench, passing—do you want more sauce? Oh, we have sesame sprinkle here, and then ah let me get that plastic wrap for you. Sho’s light hearted and he eats with gusto.

They are sitting close, and by the time they have coffee, Sho feels relaxed and warm—Aiba is close, but not too close. It’s actually comfortable.

“What do you not understand the most?”

Aiba’s question startles him, but not in a bad way. Sho knows sooner or later he would have to start addressing the problem—perhaps Aiba asking him now can make things easy. He’s been doing this lunch thing with Aiba for three months now, and this is the first time Aiba has ever breached the topic, the topic that he had wanted to start but didn’t know how. Still, he wants to be sure. “About what?”

Aiba is facing Sho, his hand folded on top of his crossed legs. “You said you want to understand. What do you not understand?”

Sho puts his bento down and gives the question a thought. “Is this going to get worse?”

Aiba is silent for a while. “Has there been a significant escalation?”

Sho exhales loudly. He picks up his bento again just so he has something to do with his hands. “I always have this. I guess you’re familiar with the overall condition.”

“Yes, I am. I’ve worked with children and teenagers exclusively. I’ve seen a lot, if that’s what you mean.”

“I have had this since childhood. But aside from my parents and some close friends, I didn’t properly research through this until I was in high school. I didn’t even know there’s a name for both the projective associative symptoms.”

Aiba only nods, allowing Sho to take his sweet time.

“Last year, suddenly I remembered something from my childhood, and it’s gradually getting more difficult to be in a large crowd.”

“That was when you talked to Nino.”

“Yes. Nino has known all along, I guess Jun told him or maybe he caught up with my habit, but it was the first time I asked him in his medical capacity.”

And just like that a green stripe appearing out of nowhere right besides Aiba’s face and Sho reaches out in reflex trying to catch it or grasps it only to grasp air and his own action startles him. "Is there something on my face?"

"No. It’s—" Sho's stutters. “I just saw a stripe, but—“.

He sees that Aiba is not surprised and only smiles. And at Aiba’s gentle okay, Sho has to ask: “It didn’t surprised you?”

Aiba laughs with fondness in his voice. “That often happens and I’m kinda used to it, to say the least. And you’re only reaching out, some kids even slapped me in the face.”

“What?”

“They don’t know what it is or how to deal with it so they just do. But in a way I can then know what they’re seeing and that’s a good start of a story. Taking their time for sure but they need to let me know what’s going on or how they perceive things so I can help them. We can take our time, Sho-kun. We do agree that there’s no rush.”

“How long do they usually start to open up?”

“Depends on how they fare at first,” Aiba answers without missing a beat. “Some of them are quick in revealing everything in the very first session but there are some that took months to start being comfortable around me and tell me what they see.” And before Sho can reply Aiba asks again. “Don’t tell me you’re getting competitive just because of these kids?”

Sho will deny that simply because that's the exact thought that has just crossed his mind. He says with a pout. “I’m not, I’m not a kid.”

“That you’re not,” Aiba says, his hand reaching out to touch Sho’s arm again—a familiar gesture by now, and they fall into silence.

•

Sho arrives at the restaurant and finds Nino and Jun chatting over coffee. He did tell Jun that he’s going to be late but he didn’t think he’d be this late. “Thank you for waiting up.

Jun pours him a glass of water, and asks, “Was there a problem with the Akasaka account? It took you all morning.” He then points at Nino. “He couldn’t wait so we ordered for you.”

“Nothing serious. We finished the overall review now. I’ll finalize everything by the end of the day,” Sho says as he shakes his head lightly, smiling at the dishes already on their table. “Looks good, I’m starving.”

“That’s good,” Jun says. “I’m going to need all hands on deck for the Shinagawa account this weekend. That includes you and your team.”

“I’ll clear our schedule,” Sho says distractingly, already holding his spoon excitedly as he takes a plate from Nino’s side.

“I was also waiting for you to tell you that next week’s Wednesday forecast is light rain all day.”

“Huh?”

“It’s going to rain next week, Sho-chan.”

“Okay. What about it?” Sho says with his mouth full.

Nino grins. “I was just informing you."

“Oh— That means I can’t— We can’t— Oh.”

“Just go somewhere where it’s not raining. Although that means you need to go somewhere outside Tokyo since it’s going to be pouring rain everywhere here.”

Sho squints at Nino and huffs. “You don’t have to be like that about it.”

Nino turns to Jun. “See? Classic Sho-chan. I can’t believe him I was just being helpful.”

“Just find a quiet place somewhere and you’re all set,” Jun says, his attention on his phone as he sips his tea.

“But—”

Nino smiles. “Or if you want to do lunch in the pouring rain, no one is stopping you.”

“Well—“

There’s a reason why Sho chose the park. It’s open space, he won’t have to deal with too many sensations and so far it has been the best arrangement for his lunch appointments with Aiba. In fact, Sho is beginning to anticipate Wednesday, the only day of the week he actually takes time for himself and has lunch outdoors—else, he won’t be meeting the afternoon sun for months, busy and being cooped up in his office all the time.

“Or you can finally visit his office.”

“Nino, the reason I choose the park is because I don’t want to go to a doctor’s office.”

“It’s pretty cool. Really try his office. It’s not like another shrink’s office. And you’ll meet Oh-chan.”

“Who’s Oh-chan?”

“There’s only one way to find out, then?”

“Why did everyone keep on telling me that?”

“And it’s brown, not white. Just in case you need a warning.”

Sho doesn’t flinch but it’s always a surprise that Nino can be nonchalant about his condition sometimes. Nino has known for a long time how Sho is uncomfortable with white walls.

“Relax. It’s like Jun-kun’s office. What’s the color again, not white you said?”

“It’s beige, Nino,” Jun says helpfully. “You know that, and you should stop teasing Sho-kun.”

“Yeah. Beige.” Nino says, waving dismissively at Jun’s offhand comment. “Also, sweets.”

“What?”

“I can smell sweets whenever I’m there.”

You must mean butterscotch, Sho wants to correct him, but he knows Nino must mean something more obvious than what Sho can sense; so, sweets? The smell of sweets is one of Sho’s favorites, not only because it instantly reminds him of his grandmother’s kitchen but also one that he seldom encounters these days.

Nino might have a point, but as usual, there’s no use telling him that—he’ll find out when it’s time.

•

The drizzle continues but Sho only puts his phone back in his pocket and tightens his coat. He pushes his cap down, his senses all over the place—the sound of rain dampens the taste of burned mochi and the cold smells dizzying now. Their bench is also completely wet, so he opts on just standing near and waits.

He should’ve heeded Nino’s warning. He should’ve checked this morning's forecast. He should’ve been prepared—he’s the one who insisted for them to meet in the park after all. Now, he has no plan, he’s soon going to be drenched wet, and Aiba should be here any minute.

He closes his eyes, clenching his cold hands. He’s trying his best to hold down a shiver, when he tastes butter and droplets of rain no longer fall down on his cheeks.

Sho looks up and sees a large red umbrella. He turns around to find Aiba standing next to him, holding the umbrella for the both of them.

“Hi. You’re drenched. And early again.”

Sho grimaces at the greeting—he’s early again, of course, but Aiba has a point. He’s moment away from having his dress pants ruined. And he could only think of one thing to say: “I‘m sorry.”

Aiba smiles as he shakes his head and moves his umbrella so it now shelters Sho completely from the rain. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should’ve been here earlier.”

Sho shakes his head in reply, but now what.

For a while, they stand there in the gloomy grey afternoon.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Aiba finally asks, his hand reaching to tap Sho’s shoulder softly. “Or if you want to stay here we can also do that.”

The bench has been a neutral ground for him, for them, and Aiba has been so accommodating his odd request all this time. Being here in the park has given him the time he needed to get to know Aiba at his own pace. And now, Aiba is giving him another choice now. It’d be stressful to visit a new place without a plan but it’d be silly to stay here outside, and unnecessarily giving them both cold.

Sho glances around the park. No one is around and the weather will only turn worse soon, he supposes. The tips of his fingers find the sleeve of Aiba’s jacket—soft raspberry and whirling warmth. He can do this, Sho sighs as he strengthens his resolve. “Okay.”

Aiba simply nods. He doesn’t comment on how now they are standing close under an umbrella with Sho gripping one of his jacket sleeves tighter. “Do you have a place in mind?”

Sho lets out a soft chuckle. “How did you know that I probably already have some places in mind?”

“Nino might have mentioned something about your planning habit,” Aiba says with a smile.

“Let me check real quick.”

He goes for a quick search on his restaurant app before deciding on Italian—Aiba mentioned something about Napolitan spaghetti weeks back, Sho remembers. And with the keyword he finds a restaurant nearby—the shop pictures look soothing, the menu seems quite diverse.

And it has a five star rating for their coffee.

Sho tugs Aiba’s sleeve, showing his screen to Aiba. “How about this?”

Aiba leans slightly forward to read the address on Sho’s phone screen, before nodding. “That’s only what, 7 minutes walk from here?”

“Yes,” Sho says.

“Sounds good. Shall we? Let’s get you warmed up.”

The restaurant is not crowded despite the lunch hour—it must be because of the weather, Sho concludes, with the drizzle has turned into rain outside. They are immediately seated on the table next to the window and settle down after they ordered.

“Is here really okay for you?” Aiba asks, setting his water glass aside.

Usually Sho needs to sneak a glance to see Aiba’s expression, or they’re in the middle of conversation that made Sho comfortable enough to face him, but this time Sho has Aiba right in front of him. His open and kind expression is right in front of Sho to see. His presence and the strong coffee smell on the restaurant bring Sho some sort of inexplicable comfort. Familiarity, he faintly discerns, this is familiarity.

“It is,” Sho says with a small smile, thankful for the concern. “It’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

Sho’s fingers are itching to touch something, and the napkin next to his glass is starched and tastes like powder. “Nino actually suggested that I go to your office when he found out that it’s going to rain today.”

“Did he now?” Aiba raises his eyebrows before he smiles. “But would you like to?"

“But then it’s not going to be a lunch meeting,” Sho says. It’s going to be a session, he doesn’t say, but he knows Aiba know all the same.

“It can still be a lunch meeting. We can have lunch at my office, and that would be all.”

Sho thought about this over his Napolitan pasta, before he decides that maybe it won’t be that bad. He finally tells Aiba. “I’ll consider it.”

“We can still go to the park again the week after that if my office turns out to be uncomfortable for you.”

“Nino said your office is cool.”

“Highest praise from Ninomiya-Sensei,” Aiba says with a warm laugh. “I like to believe that my office is cool.”

“Really?”

Aiba grins playfully, so sweet. “Well, you have to come by first to find out.”

And Sho rolls his eyes. “Sometimes I feel like all of you are conspiring against me.”

“We only want the best for you.”

“You sure are.” Sho sighs and stares to the pond for a long while, before he says. “I’ll let you know my decision later?

“Of course.”

At the end of that week and after a lengthy consideration and a talk with Nino, Sho texts Aiba. I’m stopping by your office next week. And I’ll bring lunch this time.

“He’ll reply way later. That’s how he is,” Nino says with a grin when Sho keeps on staring at his phone even after he sent the message.

Aiba does reply at the end of the day. good to hear! i look forward to next week!

•

The next Wednesday, Sho finds out that Aiba’s office building is actually near the station closest to the park. So Aiba has been jogging his way to the park all this time, only ten minutes walk distance. Sho was worried that he’d taken too much of Aiba’s time for their park meeting, but now he feels a little bit better.

He climbs to the second floor of the building, opting out of the elevator, and meets a door at the end of the floor. After a few knocks, he enters a small room—sweets fragrance, Nino was right; it was the kind that tingles nicely—with a man behind the small reception desk.

“Hello,” Sho says as he closes the door behind him. “I have an appointment.”

The man tilts his head questioningly, and says. “Are you Sho-kun?”

“Yes.”

The man—is this Oh-chan, the one Nino’s been talking about—gives him a small smile. “Aiba-chan should be finishing his session soon. If you want to wait—”

The door to Sho’s left suddenly opens, and Aiba walks out with a boy. He notices Sho immediately and offers a small wave before returning his attention to the boy and squatting down to bid him goodbye.

“Today was fun, Sensei,” the boy says, grinning at Aiba.

“Thank you, Ryo-chan.” Aiba nods with a hum. “Oh-chan will walk you to the bus stop. Promise to let us know when you get home safely?”

The boy pouts. “I promise let you know when I got home but he doesn’t have to walk me. I can walk to the bus stop by myself.”

“Of course you can, but Oh-chan needs to walk you. Help him out a bit?”

There’s a rustle from Ohno’s direction, and Sho turns to see Ohno has bundled himself with his coat and is waiting for the boy to finish saying goodbye to Aiba.

“Fine. I guess if it helps him, that’d be fine,” the boy says.

“There you go,” Aiba says. He then leans a bit closer to whisper something, causing the boy to let out a cute chuckle. “See you next week.”

“Thank you, Sensei.” The boy accepts Ohno’s offered hand and waves with a smile to Aiba before he leaves Sho and Aiba in the receptionist area.

“You’re here,” Aiba greets him, standing up and stepping closer to Sho. “I hope this time you didn’t have to wait too long.”

Sho feels a slight flush running up his cheek: Aiba knows Sho’s decision to come to his office wasn’t an easy one, and Sho truly appreciates his kindness. And at least now that Aiba seems to figure out that Sho likes to arrives early for his appointment.

“I just got there,” Sho says. He shows Aiba two large plastics in his hand, and smiles. “I also bring lunch.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” Aiba smiles at him. “Shall we go in?”

Sho only nods.

Aiba walks into his office and lets Sho follow him at his own pace.

It’s beige, Nino was right again, and Sho is pleasantly surprised at how homey Aiba’s office space is as he steps in further inside the office. Pointing to the open door next to him—should he close it? Should he leave it open?—Sho ends up saying, “Do you want me to—?“

Aiba looks up from his attempt to clear the low table. “Oh, whichever is fine. Would you like to keep it open?”

Aiba’s tone is kind and Sho decides that it has taken him a lot to come here; at least he can give in to one of his demands. “Is that okay?”

“Of course, it should be fine. Oh-chan will have his lunch break after he dropped Ryo-chan to his bus stop. And my next appointment wouldn’t be here for a few hours.”

Sho nods his thanks and walks toward Aiba. “Are we having lunch here?”

Aiba lets out a laugh. “I’m afraid so. It’s messy in here, and this might be my best offer? I don’t actually have a table here, and I suppose you’ll be more comfortable if we’re eating by the table?” Instead of sitting next to each other on the long couch, the therapy couch, Aiba doesn’t say but Sho catches his concern anyway.

“Thanks,” Sho says. He was making his way to the couch with their lunch when Aiba stops him.

“Take the chair.”

“What?”

“Take the chair side,” Aiba says again, his hand gesturing to Sho to go to the other side of the table where a single lounge chair is facing the table. The arrangement is as clear as day—Sho can see it in his mind—of how Aiba would be sitting on the chair and his patients would be lounging, if not sitting, by the chair as he conducts his sessions.

Another concern, Sho catches, and he stops questioning. Aiba must have thought about this arrangement too, already knowing that Sho’s nervous.

“Burger?” Aiba asks when Sho’s already seated by the chair and finally opens his plastic bag. “Oh, it has been a while since I had burgers!”

Sho laughs at the enthusiasm. “I wasn’t thinking of getting a good reaction when I decided on burgers. It’s been a rough week at the office and I didn’t have time to arrange something more—”

“I like burgers. I also hope you have some fries to go with them.”

Sho smiles and with a flourish slowly takes out a pack of fries from the plastic. “Of course I do.”

“Bless.”

Aiba seems to be comfortable enough sitting cross legged on the sofa, now that their burgers and assortments are spread on the table, and Sho doesn’t make another comment.

“So is it as scary as you thought it’d be?” Aiba asks, catching on Sho’s being lost in his own thoughts.

Sho wants to explain a lot of things but explanation can wait and he settles with the truth first. “It’s not.”

“I’m glad."

As they go on with their lunch, Aiba’s office doesn’t feel so intimidating anymore, the door is open and there’s no feeling of being in a new confined space. Sho also notices the slight difference in Aiba’s attitude. Aiba’s been so careful with him when he met Sho in the park, but here in his space, there’s something more about him that radiates more comfort; he’s laughing more, and his smile is not too stiff, and Sho really likes that.

•

“You were right.”

Nino dabs his mouth with his napkin, his eyes twinkling with delight at the sudden praise. “I am right about lots of things, Sho-chan. Which one is we talking about here?”

“The sweets.” Just because butterscotch.

“Huh?” Nino frowns before he remembers. “That’s good to hear. Did you tell him that?”

“What?”

“Did you tell Aiba-chan that?”

“No. But… I’m just telling you you were right.”

“So you haven’t started to talk about it?”

“Not yet,” Sho says and trusts Nino that he will understand. “I still don’t know how it will work. At this point, I’m grateful that Aiba-kun is being patient with me.

“He’s not what I would call a patient person.

“But he’s always been so patient.”

“That means he made an effort to be, Sho-kun. He’s not a patient man, I know that for sure. There were times when I had to smack him for being too careless just because of his impatience.”

“He’s been nothing but very kind.”

“He seems to be, with you. Although you need to know that I had to hold a lot of things back. Aiba-chan was very curious about you.”

“He never looks like he is.”

“That’s because that goofball is good at what he does,” Nino says with a proud smile.

“He never asks direct questions, like what you did all this time?” It is one of the things that has been bothering Sho—he and Aiba practically just had lunch all these weeks.

Nino straightens up in his seat, switching to a serious tone, eyes on Sho. “I asked you questions and what we tried didn’t work at all. Aiba-chan’s going to try a different approach. You don’t want a consultation session, so after I told him the gist I took his suggestion in not labeling your meeting as a consultation session. So you had lunch, and it went well. As long as it goes well with you then I’ll say go with it.” A pause before a familiar smirk appears in Nino’s expression. “It really pains me to say this but unlike me, Aiba-chan really knows what he’s doing with this. Or at least your case is within his expertise. And that’s my professional opinion.”

Jun slides the hot bowl in front of Nino. “You say Sho-kun never wants consultation yet you keep on sending your consultation bills to us. And we’ve been paying for lunches for like forever.”

“Jun-kun, I’m not a goofball. What Sho-chan did with me were consultation sessions. Hence, the bills. And we do lunch because we’re friends.”

“Some friend you are,” Jun only snorts before sliding Sho’s bowl in front of him.

Sho chuckles Jun’s retort. He savors the strong smell of ginger and relish in the soothing sensation that hits him. Nino and Jun continue their bickering and talking rather excitedly about his afternoon surgery schedule—Jun always is curious and Nino always entertains—and Sho tunes out completely and gives his dessert his full attention now.

•

They went for a few more lunches in the park but the following Wednesday it is raining again. Aiba texted Sho earlier in the morning, asking him if Sho wants any adjust their lunch meeting and telling Sho that he’d be amenable for any change of plan.

Sho doesn’t reply immediately. He still has doubts but he’s also somehow curious. Sho finally tells Aiba that he can go to Aiba’s office, deciding it’d be the most practical choice for the both of them.

Sho arrives at an empty office. There’s no Ohno behind the receptionist, and the door to Aiba’s office is open. Just before he managed to greet Aiba who is in the middle of reading something while lying down on the long couch, there’s a series of knocks on the door.

“Oh, you’re here—And that would be our lunch!”

The scent of pizza, and the sound of bubbling cheese, comes as Aiba returns to his office carrying two large boxes of pizza. “I’ve been craving pizza since last week. I hope it’s okay with you.”

Sho nods; it smells heavenly.

Since Aiba goes on setting up by the table, Sho takes his seat on the chair again. And for the first few minutes, they don’t talk and just gobble the pizza.

“You don’t mind if I—?"

Sho shakes his hand and watches Aiba stretch his legs on the couch. “Difficult morning?”

“Yeah. I have a hospital shift on Tuesday night and I had to do overtime last night. Plus I had a difficult session this morning.”

This reversal, with Aiba is on the patient couch and Sho’s in Aiba’s chair, is slightly amusing. Sho likes how this shifts his image of how a therapist office works.

“I always wish I could put a TV here."

Sho looks around to see where Aiba would have put the TV. The setting is already looking like a cozy living room and a TV set would complete the space. “Why didn’t you?”

“I’d be happy to have entertainment but it’d be too distracting for the kids. The kids will definitely ignore me.”

Sho laughs, because it’s likely to be true; he can’t imagine how hard it is for Aiba to try to get the kids’ attention.

“How are you this week, Sho-kun?” Aiba says, with a stifled yawn.

It’s a question but with their reversed position Sho finds it easy to answer. “The usual, I guess. I haven’t seen Nino for three weeks since he’s away for a conference and Jun is getting irritated because we can’t have our lunch.”

Aiba smiles, eyes dropping close. “I heard so much about your Thursday lunch.”

Sho lets out a chuckle; Nino must have been telling him stories.

Silence falls in the room and Sho watches Aiba trying to fight drowsiness. He takes the chance to admire Aiba, feeling completely safe for the first time in months. Aiba has never made him feel otherwise but now with the full disclosure and the new space, Sho hasn’t even thought of feeling at ease.

“Aiba-kun?”

Aiba doesn’t say anything, he only shakes himself awake and straightens his legs so he’s now lying comfortably on his side, with his hand pillowing his head, and facing Sho with a soft “Mhmm?”

“What is it that you do when you’re trying to help the kids?”

That seems to peak Aiba’s interest, and Sho has a momentary worry that Aiba is going to sit up and they’re going to lose the moment, but Aiba only shifts a bit.

“There’s no standard way, I basically help them understand.”

“About their difficulty?”

There’s a soft smile on Aiba’s face. “The kids don’t treat it as a difficulty, at least not yet. Their parents brought them here, and most of the time asked me to ‘fix’ their kids. My first sessions are always with the parents, mostly to set up a foundation of how sensory activities work. And after a while, I focus on the kids, and they need to have a solo session.”

“Aren’t they scared?” Sho asks, his voice wavered a little as memory of his childhood returns.

He picks up colors in words, and it’s only when he’s in elementary that he knows that not everyone can do that. The fragrance and sound sensory comes later, at first irregular and sometimes it’s one way or the other, but it stays with him as he went through his teenage years. He used to hate it because it kept on hitting him off guard.

When Aiba helps these kids, does he also deal with this kind of problem?

“They are. They’re always scared. Everyone would have. In a few cases they come already knowing what they can sense, but in most they don’t know what’s happening with them, and it would scare them.”

“And they talk to you about it?”

“Not always. New kids usually come here and we just hang out. They don’t know who I am and it’s different with each but I usually need time to get them to trust me.”

“And what happened when you hang out?”

“I mostly play with them. It might not show because I’ve been cleaning up before you come over, but on another day this office usually looks like an art room with pictures and everything. My Friday appointment even brings her dog to play here. Or, don’t tell their parents, but sometimes we also share snacks together.”

Sho is quick enough to catch up with the implied meaning of the lengthy explanation. Aiba is going to wait until his kids, his patient, to be ready before they open up—which is exactly what Aiba’s been doing him, with the lunch meetings.

“And then?”

“And then when they are ready they’re going to tell me about their senses. Again, there’s nothing wrong with them. They just need to adjust to the sensory and work their way to accept it as theirs.”

“Wouldn’t it take a long time?” Sho cannot imagine opening up so easily.

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. Each kid is different, but once they realize that there’s nothing wrong with them, that they are just fine as they are, they can learn to deal with their sensory.”

Sho’s silent for a while and he catches Aiba shifting again, this time his gaze is straight to Sho, earnest and kind.

“I said it before, Sho-kun, and I will say it as many times as I need to. There’s nothing wrong with any of us. It’s a gift.”

The delightful caress and warmth twined with butterscotch are stronger this time. And Sho can almost taste the truth in that last sentence, can almost smell the soothing kindness.

He is beginning to believe. He looks away to see the side of the office, all the beige and comfort openly offered and colors move like molasses and for a short time everything is in slow motion and more intense. When he snaps out of it, he turns and finds Aiba. A question falls in the tip of his tongue, his voice unsure and soft. “A beautiful gift?”

•

“You’re quiet today.”

Sho’s been sitting in silence and fiddling with his lunch as Jun and Nino catch up with their weeks. He’s been missing them, and their Thursday lunch, too—the sharp and cute voice of Nino as he bickers over how his weekend plan with Jun and Jun’s enthusiasm now that they can return to their Thursday lunch routine now that Nino’s back in town in muted pink.

“How is it going with Aiba-chan?”

“I met some of his patients,” Sho says.

There’s a smile on Nino’s voice. “Oh, so you continued to visit him to his office?”

Sho hums as he nods, still stabbing his noodles. Nino tastes neutral now—he has that odd smell that reminds Sho of his strict grandpa whenever he is serious, and Sho decides he can share more. “It’s not what I’ve been expecting. He basically only listens to them and plays with them.”

“Some other doctors will consider his approaches a bit unconventional, but there’s officially nothing wrong with them.”

“Unconventional?”

“Specializing in children is already more than challenging, while Aiba-chan has always had the kids’ interest at heart, traditional method of treatment is not what they need.”

Jun slides a bowl of hot soup next to Sho’s plate, and Nino nudges him to start eating again. With a sigh, Sho picks up the bowl and takes a sip.

“He doesn’t ask questions; kids don’t answer questions, they respond to action,” Nino continues. “He waits until they want to talk to him. In most of his cases, they don’t even open up to him, but he still works with them until they can deal with their perspectives.”

Looking down to his plate and finding it almost empty, Sho takes in Nino’s explanation. He has felt like he has not made any progress. That’s true, because all this time he wants to understand and cure himself; when in reality, perhaps what he needs is to understand.

When Sho doesn’t say anything, Nino continues. “That’s what you want, right Sho-chan? To understand. And to live with it.”

Sho finishes his soup before he gives Nino a small nod. He had said exactly that to Nino long ago: that all he wanted was to make peace with himself.

•

Sho was already a block away from Aiba’s office when he received a short message from Aiba next Wednesday: Sho-kun I’m so sorry! Thinking that replying will be rather pointless since he’s almost there, and early for their lunch meeting as usual, Sho decides against it, and continues his walk to Aiba’s office.

He gives the door a short knock and opens the door, finding the same man, Oh-chan, Ohno, behind the reception perking up at his entrance and the door to Aiba’s office closed.

“Hello again,” Sho says as he closes the door behind him. “I’m here to see Aiba-kun.”

“You just missed him,” Ohno says, standing up and walking to the greet Sho. “He told me he’s already texted you? He had to go for an emergency home session.”

“Oh.” So that’s why Aiba said he was sorry. He should’ve said the reason he was apologizing. Although there’s no apology needed for emergency; Sho just wishes he could arrange his lunch earlier.

“Would you like to wait for him here?” Ohno offers; now that Sho hears more of Ohno’s voice, he can taste the drizzle of rain. “I need to close up for lunch but if you want to stay here, you’re welcome to do so.”

Emergency would take quite a while, wouldn’t it? Sho is not sure if waiting for Aiba would be a good choice; he needs to go back to work in an hour after all. But—he looks down to the plastic bags in his hands—he already brought lunch, opting for Thai takeaway from one of his favorite restaurants.

“Ah, Oh-chan, right? Ohno-san? I’m sorry but I don’t know what to call you.”

“Oh-chan’s fine. Or it’s usually just Ohno.”

Sho made a quick decision; he doesn’t want to waste the food he’d already bought after all and spend lunchtime alone. “I brought lunch already, Ohno-san. There should be enough food for the both of us. We can actually share so you don’t have to go out? I don’t want to be a bother by waiting for Aiba-kun here in the office, and it’s the least I can offer for interrupting your lunch break.”

The smell of glowing sparks around them intensifies when Ohno smiles at him. “I wouldn’t say no to free lunch. Would it be okay with you?”

“Yes,” Sho says with a nod, finding that he’s feeling truly okay—there’s something about Ohno that immediately calms him. And he’s starving; his morning was hectic and he had missed breakfast.

“I guess,” Ohno now looks around. “We can go to the waiting area over there.”

Sho nods, already concluding that they’re not going to go to Aiba’s office when Aiba is not around. There’s a small seater with two chairs on the side at the end of the small reception room. This is a more neutral space, Sho thinks as he takes a seat at the end of the seater.

Ohno is moving swiftly and places one of the chairs between them to be their makeshift table. “I hope this is okay? We don’t have anything much out here. All the good stuff is in Aiba-chan’s office.”

“It’s fine.”

Ohno helps Sho arranges several takeaway boxes before he seems to remember something. “We have some cold drinks, or hot coffee if you want some. I can also offer you strawberry milk. Those are for the kids, but we can have some. All the fancier drinks are sadly in Aiba-chan’s fridge inside.”

Sho chuckles at the thought of him sipping strawberry milk like one of Aiba’s kids. And coffee would be great, but he’s bringing some spicy food so water will be best. He tells Ohno: “Water would be best. The food is rather spicy.”

Ohno’s spark lights up even more as he grins. “I love spicy food.”

Sho accepts a water bottle and after Ohno is seated on the other chair, he sets one of the Phat kaphrao boxes in front of Ohno and takes one for himself.

“This is excellent,” Ohno says after a mouthful. And Sho hums through his second spoonful. The egg topping is a little bit dry but it doesn’t alter the taste—all the sharp heat and savory blending with white rice.

Sho sweats through his meal and Ohno leaves his food to bring Sho another water bottle. For once, Sho doesn’t mind the silence over meal; Ohno made soft voices as he digs in his meal, and Sho is too focused to scoop more rice to balance the flavor.

“I feel I need to thank Aiba-chan later. I just ate the best lunch all thanks to him,” Ohno says. He’s dabbing his sweaty forehead with a tissue and taking another gulp of water. “It’s no wonder he’s always in a good mood after his lunch with you.”

Oh?

Really?

Ohno smiles at Sho, picking up his silent question easily. “No one is actually excited for a Wednesday. It’s midweek and usually when work gets busy around here. But Aiba-chan always seems the happiest on Wednesdays.”

Warmth, that has nothing with the heat from the food, floods Sho’s chest.

“Are you also the happiest when it’s Wednesday?” Ohno asks him.

•

For the next few weeks the question, the simplest question, stays with Sho.

He and Aiba return to the park the next Wednesday, spending almost the entire lunchtime arguing when Aiba trying to profusely apologize for the emergency and Sho’s taking none of it.

“Aiba-kun, it was an emergency and I completely understand,” Sho says for the third time. It has been not easy to convince Aiba that there’s nothing to apologize for. Just before Aiba is about to reply—or most probably apologizing again, Sho continues. “I hope everything went well? Was the kid and their family safe?”

Aiba lets out a sigh, picking up Sho’s intention to shift the topic. “It was one of my most difficult kids, and she hasn't adjusted well to her projection. But at the end of the day everything was alright, and we’re making new arrangements to help her more.“

Sho nods and before Aiba goes with his apology again, he hands Aiba the last of the warabi mochi they’re sharing for dessert. “I’m glad to hear that.”

They try to go to a restaurant of Sho’s recommendation on the Wednesday after that. Sadly, they—or in this case Sho—fail to anticipate the popularity of the lunch set of the restaurant and end up queuing for almost 40 minutes before they get a table and can order.

“This is not how I planned lunchtime to be,” Sho says with a grumble. Layered of sensations jumble erratically around him—the busy restaurant tastes like cacophony of ginger and lemon, sending a tense itch along his arms. Sho can’t seem to sit still on his chair. He’s starving but perhaps it’s too much to stay here.

“Sho-kun.” Aiba says softly, reaching out and offering Sho his hand silently. “Can we try something?”

And almost in reflex, Sho accepts and claps Aiba’s offered hand hard. He now can feel his sweaty palm rubbing against Aiba’s warm one, before a moment later Aiba’s question finally sinks in. “Try what?”

“Try this,” Aiba says as he gives Sho’s hand a gentle squeeze.

Sho tries to breathe through his nose and allows the touch of gleaming butterscotch calming him. It doesn’t cancel the strong ginger and lemon taste but with Aiba’s touch it’s easier to shift his focus to their table, to their joined hand, to Aiba’s kind eyes watching him patiently.

“There you go,” Aiba says again, keeping his gaze at Sho and prompting Sho to keep focus on him, on both of them. “It’s okay.”

It’s not, Sho wants to immediately reply, but now that the jumbling sounds around him dim a little bit, it kind of is. He manages to ignore the server coming with their order, concentrating at Aiba who keeps Sho’s hand held in his above the table while turning away momentarily to thank the server.

Now with food in front of him, Sho has more distraction. And he looks up and finds Aiba waiting for him with a small smile. “Lunch is here.”

Sho nods, but it takes another minute before he lets go of his hold on Aiba’s hand. He mumbles his thanks and quickly begins eating. The explosion of sweet sour taste in his mouth is just as rich and high pitched as he has imagined, and after another mouthful Sho can look up and meet Aiba’s gaze again.

Aiba is waiting for him, and hasn’t even started his meal. Sho sets down his chopsticks to reach and hand Aiba’s chopsticks, urging him silently to begin partaking.

Aiba smiles now, taking the chopsticks from Sho’s hand. “Better now?” he asks.

Sho nods.

“I’m glad.”

They shouldn't have expected any rainy days now but one Wednesday pouring rain hits the city in the morning and leaves Sho with a little option. He considers cancelling their lunch meeting but he has been looking forward to visiting Aiba’s office, along with the promise of Aiba bringing him his cooking for lunch. Sho has just recently learned that Aiba sometimes cooks and his dishes are excellent—his mabo tofu that Sho tasted the Wednesday before is slightly different from the usual mabo tofu but it was still tasty.

He decides to call a taxi since there’s no sign of the rain going to stop anytime sooner and he’d be completely drenched by the time he reaches the station if he’s thinking of braving the subway. The taxi arrives a little later due to the traffic but Sho manages to stay relatively dry and arrives in Aiba’s office only 10 minutes late from their usual lunch meeting time.

Ohno is not at the reception desk—perhaps he’s already out for lunch, or even not coming in in this weather, and the door to Aiba’s office is slightly ajar. Sho realizes that it’s a bit too quiet here in the office, and the rain outside makes the room rather dark.

He pushes the door open and steps inside Aiba’s office.

An unexpected sight welcomes him.

Aiba is curled asleep on the long couch, his feet folded and his face half buried in a small bright pink pillow that most probably belongs to one of his kids.

His Tuesday night must have been rough. Sho remembers few of Aiba’s stories about his hospital shift. He didn't even tell Sho about this and must have been determined to keep their lunch meeting as scheduled.

Sho makes his way to the chair across the couch as quietly as possible when he sees a round green stripe above Aiba’s head. This time its appearance doesn’t surprise him much, but the halo pulls him to step closer to Aiba, closer to the couch. And Sho doesn’t resist this time—stepping carefully and moves the low table so he can sit cross legged on the floor next to the couch.

Sho is now so close to Aiba, his sleeping face is right in front of him. He can see Aiba's mouth slightly open and him breathing evenly.

The halo dims when Sho tries to touch it. And this time Sho smiles—he remembers, he knows it’s going to dim when he tries to touch one, he remembers it clearly now.

His parents.

He first sees colorful halo on his mother—he must have been just in the first years of elementary school when one day a stripe of red light appeared above his mother’s head when she was reading him a story. It had startled him so much that his mother set aside the book and asked him.

“What is it, Sho?”

Sho remembers he tried to grab the halo again and it dimmed when his fingers touched it. “Red,” he remembers saying to his mother. “You have red.”

His mother only smiled at him and didn’t ask further. And Sho remembers that he didn’t see it again until a year later at their family dinner table. He was sitting across from his parents when he saw the halo on his mother again, but before he could say anything, it moved and blended with a shade of red coming from his father.

Sho can clearly see the moment in his mind now, he stares in awe as the halo stripe and the shade twisted and danced before they melted into nothing in thin air.

So he’d seen color light on people before.

And now he sees it on Aiba.

What does it mean? What does it try to tell him? That means that one time when he almost slapped Aiba it wasn’t the first time. Sho has so many questions.

He returns his gaze to Aiba who’s still sleeping soundly. He looks so peaceful, Sho smiles. Aiba has been so kind all this time, always agreeing to his requests; Sho perhaps has failed to notice all his efforts to keep up with Sho’s habit—it always has to Wednesday on their agreed time; it always, at first, has to be in the park. And he has patiently waiting for Sho to adjust to their arrangement, opening his office space to Sho, introducing Ohno to him, and keeping him calm and assured when everything is too much.

His hand reaches up to lightly caress Aiba’s cheek. He’s warm from sleep and Sho really needs to let him sleep. A moment later, Aiba lets out a cute huff in his sleep, causing his bang to fall and now covering his eyes; Sho feels the taste of the comforting, and now familiar, butterscotch and raspberry against the tip of his fingers as he swipes Aiba’s bang back.

And a faint red spark alights, joining the green stripe, before it fades.

Sho jerks back, blinking in surprise, his heart racing from the sight. What was that?

•

Sho ignores Aiba’s text messages for the rest of the week, and by the weekend he just shuts his phone off completely. By Monday, Aiba has stopped sending him messages, and Sho feels even guiltier.

He needs time, he tells himself. He needs time to think.

It doesn’t help that their projects are in their most crucial stage. Jun is already busy handling all the preparation, and it’s only right for Sho to keep his utmost focus on his own projects.

He purposely has his office door closed since morning, knowing his staff would not bother him unless it’s an emergency. He’s been trying very hard to finish the financial reports he’d been drafting while double-checking all the corresponding data.

Sho looks up at the knock at his office door. There’s only one person in this office that would not heed his closed-door policy.

Jun doesn’t wait for an answer and he steps into Sho’s office with a frown. “Why are you still here?” He glances at his watch before staring at Sho. “It’s way past lunch time.”

“I know,” Sho says, not even looking up from his document.

“Is there something wrong? Is Aiba-kun busy?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Sho says, his own lie tasted sour against his skin.

“Nothing’s wrong so you’re not going on your lunch break?”

Sho flinches at Jun’s on point question but he keeps his voice steady. “I need to finish these reports. I can have lunch later, now I’m just going to work—“

“I see. I’ll send lunch up here for you later.”

He hears Jun sighs leaving Sho’s office. He wants to thank Jun for sending up lunch, but Jun will also call Nino and tell him what happened. And Nino will definitely call Aiba, and then they all will know that Sho skips lunch and is avoiding Aiba.

Fine, he tells himself. He just needs to keep on his work, straining his focus and missing the taste of raspberry, telling himself to keep going. All he needs time, he tells himself again, and when work’s done, he would finally have that time, and until then he just has to tell himself he’s going to be fine.

Jun doesn’t visit his office again and Sho finally sends all his reports and leaves the office after dark. When he gets home, he checks his phone for the umpteenth time that day, and still sees no message from Aiba.

He’s been handling all this wrong.

His senses have been telling him millions of different things, and it’s been exhausting to ignore them, but here he is.

Before finally, quietness on his night bath.

Sho submerges himself further down to the tub as he closed his eyes. The water around him calms him, and for the first time in this long day he could finally breathe easy. He opens his eyes, finding the warm white ceiling of his bathroom, and stretches his legs further. He lowers himself down, the surface of the water by his temples now, and everything, every sense, was blissfully muted for now.

He needs to apologize to Aiba.

He needs to talk to Aiba and tell him what happened in the office last Wednesday. Aiba will understand, Sho is almost sure.

He needs to deal with Nino, for this one he’s completely sure that Jun has updated Nino on what happened today and together they both would grill him tomorrow.

But, first and foremost, he needs to admit his own fear.

He’s been reluctant, out of fear, to go to therapy. He said to Nino he doesn’t want a therapy session, and Nino had helped and set an appointment for him. He had said that he doesn’t want professional help, and in a sense, Aiba hadn’t been treating their meeting as therapy sessions.

He’s been careful, out of fear, to enter the arrangement, to in exchange consider Aiba as a friend instead of a therapist. He needs to at the very least talk to Aiba like a friend he wants to have.

He needs to do this for himself, for his friends who’ve been nothing but solid support: Nino for listening and taking care of him since years ago; Jun for all the work stuff Sho has to reschedule in order for him to have Wednesday lunch time, to both of them who’ve been checking up on him even in the pretense of Thursday lunch; and also Ohno, Sho remembers, Ohno who welcomes him and asks one of the most important questions.

Is Sho also the happiest when it’s Wednesday?

Is he?

The green stripe and red spark have shocked him.

They may never appear again. They may later twist and dance like the ones he saw on his parents. They may later melt into nothing in thin air and resurface again when it’s time.

Who’s to know?

But the comforting raspberry, the warmth of butterscotch, and Aiba have been there all along. Their lunch meetings started off a bit awkward but it was not long until it became one of constants in Sho’s week—the one thing he looks forward to in delight every week. The sound of Aiba’s laughter is now one of his favorite tastes. The kind smile on Aiba’s face is now one of his favorite smells. The warmth sweetness of butterscotch is now one of the things that comfort him the most.

And he was the happiest when it’s Wednesday.

He truly was.

•

Out of his wildest expectation, Nino and Jun say nothing when he arrives for their lunch the next day. They still say nothing even after their order arrives. Sho doesn’t know what to make of it—he has assumed Nino would immediately bombard him with questions and Jun would have his I-told-you-so face throughout lunch hour.

Halfway through his meals, he feels a kick on his feet below the table.

“Did he do anything that hurt you?” Nino finally says, breaking the uncomfortable silence on their table, his voice soft as he leans closer to Sho. And when Sho doesn’t answer immediately, Nino continues, with a louder voice this time. “He did? I swear I’m going to punch him in the face. He should’ve been more careful. I told him everything about you and he had promised both professionally and by our friendship that he would do his best for you. Just wait till I get to his home and cause havoc to his kitchen and his beloved clothes—”

“Nino,” Sho cuts Nino’s rant, patting Nino’s arm in attempt to calm him. “He didn’t do anything.”

Nino is too quick, and Sho didn’t even have the chance to explain. “So, you are the one who did him wrong?”

Sho exhales loudly and nods. “Yes, I am.”

Silence falls to their table and Sho can sense Nino’s honeyed scent grew stronger in anger.

“I got scared, okay,” Sho says with a soft voice as he sets his unfinished dish. Lunch is over after all. “I saw color on him.”

He realizes that confession alone will not be enough to justify him shutting down on Aiba, but it’s the only explanation he could give at this time. He’s reached a resolution last night, and that’s between him and Aiba. As much as he is thankful to Nino and Jun—their concerned stares show Sho that they care about him, Sho should make the first step to right this wrong since now it seems like he’s hurting people that he cares about.

Silence falls to their table again, but this time there’s a blank sensation of understanding.

“Just talk to him.” Jun says, offering Sho a small smile. “You like him, don’t you Sho-kun?”

He doesn’t expect Jun to outright ask him that, but he shouldn’t be surprised.

He nods.

“Sho-chan.” Nino says, his hand reaching up to cover Sho’s hand that’s still on clutching his arm. “We just want the best for you.”

“I know,” Sho says, his chest tight with emotion.

“Good.” Nino gives one last squeeze of Sho’s hand before loosening off his hold. “Just don’t take it too long, will you. You’re sad, Aiba-chan is sad, and I don’t like it.”

Wave of guilt hits him once again; he’s made Aiba sad, he has to make this right. Jun and Nino have started off their talk about Jun’s new project but Sho already has his senses set to plan.

•

Not everything is working according to his plan, though.

He finally braves himself to send a short text to Aiba and asking if he’d be willing to meet Sho this Wednesday. Aiba’s answer was only a short yes, but Sho is more than happy by the response.

The rain decides to hit the city again on Wednesday.

Jun comes to his office just mid-morning and rolls his eyes at the sight of Sho staring forlornly out of his window with obvious hope for the weather to be kind to him. He drops a large umbrella unceremoniously on Sho’s desk. “That’s Nino’s. Make sure you return it to him,” he says, before leaving the room.

Sho lets out a chuckle. He’s definitely going to be footing the bill of their Thursday lunches for the next month.

Later that afternoon, Sho was sure he’s going to be early again, but when their bench is in view, he can see Aiba’s figure already waiting for him there.

The rain has thankfully settles into soft drizzle but Aiba has no umbrella this time. Sho breaks into a jog, wanting to reach the bench quicker and belatedly realizing that this was probably what Aiba had in mind every time he jogged toward Sho to meet him in the past few months.

He holds the umbrella on top of Aiba’s head and greets him nervously. “Hello.”

Aiba smiles at him; it’s not the same warmth but Sho is grateful for it. He’s going to make sure Aiba returns his smile.

“I was supposed to be early. Have you waited long?”

“I just got here,” Aiba says—and Sho remembers the many times he answered Aiba’s question with the same answers and it meant that he had been waiting for a while.

“I‘m sorry,” Sho ends up saying. For not being early, for letting Aiba wait under the rain, for everything else.

Aiba only shakes his head, his hand reaching for Sho’s and giving his jacket sleeve a soft tug. “Why don’t you sit down, first? Or if you want to go somewhere else, we can.”

“Here’s fine,” Sho says, not wanting to lose his courage by delaying this further. He balances the umbrella in his hand, making sure he has both of them sheltered from the drizzle, and takes a seat on the wet bench. He’s going to have to change his clothes later, they both do, but right now, Sho doesn’t give it much thought.

Sharing an umbrella also means they need to be seated close. There’s no lunch boxes and lunch arrangement that usually are placed between them—Aiba’s gesture to give him space, now Sho knows. He was trying to start his explanation when Aiba speaks first.

“I don’t know if you want to have lunch or not, so I didn’t prepare anything,” he says before showing Sho the small plastic bag he’s holding. “I brought some hot soup though. Do you want one?”

Sho nods. “Thank you.”

For the next few minutes they silently work together. Aiba tries to unpack the soup while Sho’s holding the umbrella for them, and then Aiba takes the umbrella from Sho’s hold so Sho can unpack the soup for the both of them, and finally Aiba holds the umbrella with his hand over Sho’s shoulder and they sitting close to each other facing the lake.

The first sips of the soup warm him, and as Sho continues to hold half of it in his hand, rubbing his cold hand over the side for the remaining heat, he knows Aiba is waiting for him to say something now that he’s already finishing his soup and setting his empty cup aside.

Sho takes a deep breath and speaks. “I’m sorry. That’s the first thing that I have to say to you. I’m very sorry.”

“Sho-kun—”

“Please let me finish first?” He turns and meets Aiba’s eyes. Aiba also looks like he’s trying to say something but he then nods.

“I was scared,” Sho continues with the hardest part of his explanation head on. He tells Aiba that he’d been in Aiba’s office two weeks ago when he found Aiba asleep at the office. “That day, I saw color on you.” Sho pauses to take a deep breath. “I don’t have a projective form. Or at least I thought so. Everything I experience is associative. So, it came as a complete shock.”

Aiba nods, his arm on the back of the bench that holds the umbrella shifting a bit to give Sho a side hug.

“Remember the story about my parents and their joined color?”

“Yes.”

“It went as quickly as that. And I left your office so fast, thinking that all I needed was just some time to make of what had just happened. I couldn’t bring myself to answer your texts, and for that I apologize again, and last Wednesday was—”

Sho can’t find the word he needed.

Aiba offers his. “Very hard to understand?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

“It is not,” Sho says; Aiba’s voice tastes like raspberry and while that’s already comforting, Sho wants the butterscotch warmth of his smile. He doesn’t want Aiba to be okay with this; he wants Aiba to understand. “It’s not okay because it wasn’t fair for me to close off on you like that. You’ve been very kind all this time and, as Nino kindly reminds me, you’ve put up with my odd requests without complaints.”

“Nino-chan should keep his mouth shut sometimes.”

Sho lets out a weak laugh. “He’s right though. I’ve been making demands. I’ve been taking your Wednesday lunchtime when you are supposed to rest, eat a good lunch, and perhaps take a power nap.”

“Sho-kun—“

“I just want say—,” Sho says, hand touching Aiba’s shoulder to stop the man from commenting before Sho’s finished his apology properly. “—that I’m sorry for running off you when I should’ve talked to you about what happened and discussed it together.”

Aiba stays silent for a while, long enough for some nervousness to sneak back to Sho’s mind.

“You never take my Wednesday lunchtime, Sho-kun. I always enjoy our lunches,” Aiba says, smiling and giving Sho a full blast a warm butterscotch taste. “And I guess there’s no choice of accepting your apology?”

Sho nods.

“I can say I understand your reaction. But even if it is something that happened a lot at work, it hurt more because it’s not about work. This with you is not work. I still don’t know if what the lunch meetings we’ve been doing have been helpful in making you understand. I don’t know if I could be much of help, but I guess we need to have more lunches to find out, don’t you think?”

Sho nods again, this time with a smile.

“You can take your time. We can take our time. I’m not in a rush, and you’re not either, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.” Sho smiles and this time it feels genuine. “Thank you, Aiba-kun.”

“Thank you.”

The rain has completely stopped, and after Aiba closed the umbrella and set them aside, his arm returned to the back of the bench.

Sho sighs. “I really like this,”

“I like this too.” This time, more than see, Sho hears Aiba’s smile. Aiba then says again, “May I try something?”

Sho breathes. “Mhmm?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

“What is it?” Sho says, turning his head slightly to meet Aiba’s eyes.

And he feels Aiba pulling him closer with his arm, leaning forward to kiss Sho softly on the cheek. His lips is cold, but Sho can only feels the tingling butterscotch warmth and the flush on his own cheeks.

“Oh.”

Aiba’s hold is tight but comfortable—just like Sho has imagined all this time. Sho can taste old wood from the lake swirling merrily—there’s no green stripe around Aiba, unlike what Sho has expected, but it’s okay. They may never appear again. They may resurface later. Sho may never see them twist and dance.

But Sho has Aiba and his comforting brightness and melodious scent with him. Sho has Aiba next to him. He says, “I also want to try another thing.”

Aiba laughs this time, and Sho quickly scoots closer and kisses that luscious laughter before it fades.

After a series of shared chuckles, they settle into quiet again: Sho with his thoughts and Aiba next to him waiting for him to decide for them.

Sho likes parks.

Sho likes this park, the place where his initial thoughts and fears were soothed by the quiet and calm, where he doesn’t have to face the crowds, to take in the world, and even only for a short lunch break a place for him to sit there and be.

Sho likes this park better, now that he has Aiba with him; they are stepping away from work for an hour or two, they are spending their lunchtime and together they begin to their newfound twist of senses together.

•