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Everything was so packed and crowded that if you told Hitoka when she was just a first-year in school that she would be in a place this, she probably would’ve passed out on the spot. The hundreds of people would seem like thousands especially with the number of people who would tower over her. Though now, Hitoka was twenty-five and way different than how she handled social communication than she was back as a first-year. She was full of confidence especially when it came to her job.
“Hey, Yachi, where do you want these?” Hitoka looked up from the clipboard she held in her hands and moved her eyes to the man holding a box a few feet from her. She stepped up to him, opening the box as he held it and peered inside. It was filled with loads of different silverwares.
She pointed to a long table near the kitchen doors. “Over there, Hana.” Takahiro nodded and did as she said. Hitoka put her attention back to the clipboard and checked off the utensils.
Her job was management, something she had always been good at even when she was a shy fifteen-year-old ten years ago. She was good at organizing and keeping things together, managing time, working with difficult circumstances, and even taking up tasks for other people. She helped manage quite a few things, but one of the big things she always helped put together was her boyfriend’s events he did for his cooking.
Today was a big event, and just in a few hours, a large number of people would be filling in the place. It still gave her a shudder of nerves down her spine, but with the quick shake of her shoulders and a deep breath, Hitoka was ready.
Takahiro, a friend from high school, helped Hitoka bring in boxes and set up tables. He carried in food from the kitchen and set up plates, silverware, and napkins at one of the ends, laid out table cloths with centerpieces (small, semi-expensive bouquets of flowers but nevertheless beautiful ones).
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, looking at the very well put together event.
“I think it looks epic," he commented.
“It looks really nice,” Hitoka smiled. “Thanks for helping, Hana.”
“Hey, no problem,” Takahiro laughed. “Osamu’s making me cream puffs so I got to pay back with something, yeah?”
Hitoka laughed and nodded. “I guess so.” She looked at her clipboard, the check marks on every item and to-do was more than satisfying. “We should get ready, you might want to take a quick shower.” Takahiro backed away, frowning at himself.
“Man, are you saying I smell bad?” He asked sadly.
“No — a little bit, actually. Yeah. You got all sweaty when walking back and forth.”
Takahiro pouted. “It was a tiring job.”
“Just go get changed.”
“Alright, alright,” Takahiro said as he turned. “Matsu’s gonna be here soon anyway.”
With that, Hitoka went in the other direction toward the back where she already had a planned set of clothes to change into.
It was a beautiful white dress, a short sleeve one she chose instead of long in case the event got too packed and heated. The shoulders and sleeves of the dress were transparent, the bottom of the dress went down mid-thigh, the shoes were some simple small heels. She was quick to curl the bottom ends of her hair, clip back her bangs to the side with a white clip. Her hair rested on her shoulders as she fluffed her hair a little, smiling slightly at herself in the mirror.
“Chichi—Hey.” Hitoka spun from the mirror, eyes Iocked for a quick second with the pinkish-gray ones that had opened the door, and moved to pick up her phone. She slipped it in the small pocket of the dress (dresses with pockets>>>) and moved to the door.
“You know how to knock?”
Takahiro shrugged. “Eh, not really.” Hitoka glared which just made Takahiro chuckle. “Come on. Who would care if I saw you anyway? I’d probably just compliment your underwear and show you mine.” Takahiro had on a white suit, a light blue, pastel button-up underneath the white jacket, his hair was obviously slightly damp. He reached into his jacket pocket and plucked out one of the small, white flowers that sat there, leaning over and using Hitoka’s hair clip to pinch it in her hair. “There. Gorgeous as always. Come on.”
People started to fill in the already, Hitoka was quick to rush to the front doors to start greeting people, Takahiro was doing so as well. It was probably an hour or so of more and more people heading in, and Hitoka was sure there were much more than they had planned to show up. After a while, it began to slow down, and Hitoka put her back to the wall and let out a big sigh.
Takahiro joined her, a groan coming from him too.
“That was a lot,” Takahiro muttered.
“No kidding.”
“I might need another shower.”
“Me too.” She sighed and stood up straight, running her hands down her face with a deep breath. “Okay, the night isn’t over yet, Hana.”
“You really gotta remind me?” He groaned.
“I’m sure you can find Matsukawa now that everything has died down.”
Takahiro stood up straight, eyes glancing around the party. “Did you see him?” He asked.
“Yeah,” Hitoka nodded, “he came in and said he was gonna stray away from you because you looked busy.”
“That asshole.” Takahiro sighed. “Guess I’ll go look for him. You’ll be okay alone?”
Hitoka nodded. “Perfectly fine! I have to talk with some sponsors for Osamu anyway.” Takahiro gave Hitoka a smile and a wave goodbye before heading into the crowd of strangers, employees, and sponsors to look for Issei.
After a few hours of Hitoka walking around in her heels, sore feet, sore tongue from speaking so much with other people, she felt overly exhausted. She hadn’t even had a chance to chat properly with Osamu, people were either crowding him with his accomplishments or crowding her with questions or compliments about how everything was so well put together.
The organizer felt like she was on her last heel, quite literally and figuratively; she was light but she felt like the bottoms of her shoes were going to snap off at any given second. It was a lot, it was stressful, but it was everything to Osamu which meant Hitoka wouldn’t give up that easily.
A few times she had talked with Takahiro and Issei, though they were pretty camped out by the snack table (Issei had given Takahiro a cooldown on how many cream puffs he was allowed to snag off the dessert table). Though most of the time, it was just Hitoka and sponsors. Important people, important people, important people.
Hitoka really felt like she was losing her mind at times, but she tried her best to keep herself put together. She started to walk around the event, maybe find her way to the kitchen to cool down with an ice pack from the freezer. Making her way through all the (very tall) people, Hitoka lost her line of sight of where she was headed and knocked into someone’s chest.
“Hey, no wanderin’ off.” Hitoka looked to the face of who she ran into and found herself smiling. “Where ya headed?”
“Kitchen,” Hitoka said with a deep, relieved sigh. “It’s good to see you.”
Osamu smiled, a hand found her waist from when he collided with her and planted there. “Good ta see ya too. Why the kitchen?”
“To cool down a bit.”
“Can I join?”
Hitoka raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you have sponsors to be keeping up with?”
“They’ve had my attention fer a few hours. Think it’s yer turn.”
Osamu helped guide Hitoka through the crowd of people through the swinging doors of the kitchen. It was a lot quieter in the chilly room, the noises from the party they left muffled as the doors shut behind them. Hitoka moved to the freezer, opening the doors and pulling out a cold ice pack.
The chef came up behind her, and she turned with a smile, pressing the cold bag against his cheek. His shoulders relaxed a little, a sigh of relief escaping from the lightly parted lips. She laughed at him, how he was so dependable when it was just the two of them like this. Hitoka lifted off her heels, stepping high on her toes as he leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, her hand brushing back the bangs in his face.
“Ya did amazin’, ‘itoka,” he mumbled.
“Thanks, but I think you’re doing better,” she laughed. “Mr. Important.”
“Hey, just ‘cause ‘m the star of the night doesn’t mean ‘m the only ones who deserves appreciatin’.” He tucked a small strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, fer everythin’.” Osamu laughed. “Definitely wouldn’t ‘ave been able to do all of this myself.”
“Of course,” she smiled. She pulled the ice pack away from his face and pressed it to hers. “That really is refreshing,” she muttered.
“Yah, yer face is really red.”
“It’s hot.”
“Yer hot.”
“Osamu.”
“Hitoka.”
Hitoka found herself smiling, and she lightly shoved his shoulder. “Come on,” she said, “‘ya have a party ta get back to’,” she mocked his accent as she put the ice pack back in the freezer.
“Mhm, fair play.” He held her cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he kissed her softly. It was short but nevertheless sweet, his lips fitting perfectly with hers. “Let’s get then,” he mumbled against her lips yet with seemingly no attempt of pulling away. Actually, he got closer, his hand grabbing ahold of her and pulling her side against him.
“You don’t want to go back out there, do you?” Hitoka asked.
“Like it here with ya.”
“You have to get back out there.”
Osamu let his head hit Hitoka’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a close hug. He nuzzled his face into her neck, letting out a low groan from the idea of having to return to the vast amount of people beyond the kitchen doors.
“Osamu.”
“Don’t wanna.” She kissed the side of his head with a small giggle, a hand rubbing up and down his back. “‘T’s lot.”
“I know.”
“Didn’t ‘xpect there to be this many people.”
“I know.”
“We should get outta here.”
“Osamu.”
“Okay, okay,” he finally said while backing up. “Let’s get.”
“That was an insane amount of people. Hey, Osamu, can I have the rest?”
Osamu sighed, and he leaned against one of the last two tables that weren’t folded up and pushed against the wall. Mostly everything had been cleaned up, food had been put away for the most part (the only remaining dish was the last of the cream puffs and the ones that were saved aside for the sweet tooth to begin with).
“Go ahead, Hanamaki.”
“Hell yeah,” Takahiro hopped off the table he was on and grabbed the plate, holding it close to him as he stood almost drooling at the sight of them. “This was it. This was all I wanted.”
“We could’ve just picked some up on the way home,” Issei said.
“Not The Miya Osamu Cream Puffs though,” Takahiro snapped. “You can't just buy these anywhere, Issei.”
“Okay, loser,” Issei mumbled, and he grabbed the back collar of Takahiro’s shirt. “Come on. We’re going home.” He looked to Osamu and Hitoka who were by the other table. “Unless you still need us?”
“Nope!” Hitoka said. “I think we got these last two tables. Head on home. Thanks for all the help.”
“Of course, Yachichi.” Takahiro was dragged away by Issei who gave a little wave behind his back, and the duo was gone.
Osamu let his head fall and rest of Hitoka’s shoulder who sat on the table next to where he leaned.
“At least it’s over with,” Hitoka said.
“Mhm.” He snaked his arms around her, burying his face into her arm. “Baby me.”
Hitoka felt herself smiling. “Baby you?”
“Yah, like, ya know, rock me to sleep, sing me a lullaby, take care of me.”
“After we get home.”
“Can ya drive?”
Hitoka laughed, and she slid off the table. She put her hands in Osamu’s and pulled him away from the table.
“I can drive,” she said. “Come on.”
“Home?”
She smiled and nodded. “Home.”