That's Amore
The first time had been dismissed by Yujin as a fluke. An isolated incident. Something which had swirled and bobbed, bringing a whirlwind of confusing feelings into being, only to be forgotten within a day or so.
The second time, occurring almost a month later, had been recognized as the exact same fluke as before. Clearly not an isolated incident, then. It had taken over a week for the feelings to be forgotten, that time. During that week, Yujin had found himself distracted and conflicted more often than not. After much careful weighing, calculating and measuring, he'd decided that it was a meaningless folly.
Now came the third time, once again several weeks later. The same pizza delivery man as twice before stood by the door and Yujin found himself truly, overwhelmingly, inexplicably smitten. There was no other word to describe it. Everything about this man was appealing to him. From his sharp, jovial features to the fluffy, unruly blond hair which poked out from beneath the standard delivery cap. Best of all were the fierce blue eyes- or were they green?- no, blue?- whatever they were, they pulled Yujin's own stare in as if they were magnets. He appeared a bit too old to be a delivery person; surely in his thirties, but Yujin wasn't one to judge. A job was a job.
There was a grander query to ponder. What on Earth were the chances their pizza would be delivered by the same person three times in a row? Was the pizzeria's delivery area divided into territories? Or had this man recognized the address from before and offered to take the job simply to see Yujin again? … No, now that was folly.
Only when the two pizza boxes were held out to him did he realize he hadn't said a word, nor barely moved since opening the door.
“Here you are, Mr. Mikotoba,” said the delivery man.
“You... You know my name...?” Yujin heard himself stammer in turn.
“Naturally. One needn't be a great detective to figure that out. It's on your delivery order, you see.”
“Oh. Of course.”
Feeling exceptionally stupid, Yujin accepted the two pizza boxes, bowing his head while doing so.
The delivery man tilted his cap upwards lightly with a flick of the finger. “Well, have a good one,” he said, turning to leave.
“Ah.”
The word- No, the sound had left Yujin's throat before he could stop himself. Though, now that the delivery man was looking back at him, he didn't know what else to say. His mind had gone blanker than an entire stack of fresh printing paper. The seconds stretched on into what must've surely been hours. The feeling of embarrassment increased when he heard Susato call him from further inside the house.
“Father, I've set the plates!”
“Oh, yes! I'll be right there!” he called back.
The moment had cost him. When his eyes flitted back towards the door- towards the front step- towards the street- the delivery man was already walking back towards his van. It had been parked in the middle of the street, the alarm lights blinking miserably, and several cars were now waiting behind it. The drivers looked rather impatient indeed.
Right, yes. It was best to let this man get on with his work. There were other pizzas to deliver, surely. And what point would there be in having him linger around here even longer? None.
Still, though, Yujin wondered whether they ought to order pizza again soon, just to see what would happen.
----
It had been twenty nine minutes already. Yujin found himself unable to focus on the movie he was meant to be watching with Susato. Something about a gruesome murder? He didn't really care about that. His gaze kept straying towards the window and his ears kept straining to focus on the cars passing by. Was one of them stopping? ...No. Nothing. His fingers tapped idly against the side of his leg.
He was hungry. He was worried. There was some sort of rule within the pizzeria that all deliveries would be handled within thirty minutes, wasn't there? Yujin himself didn't care about the refund, he only cared about the implication that all delivery personnel would be pressured to meet that deadline. Had something happened?
His phone began to ring. It was an unknown number. Now apprehensive, he asked Susato to pause the movie and rose to his feet, wandering into the hallway to answer the call.
“Yujin Mikotoba speaking.”
“Oh! Hey, it's Sherlock. From Omnibus Pizza. You know, where you ordered pizza from?”
Yujin's mind struggled to grasp the last few sentences, as it had become quite focused on one of the first words spoken. Sherlock. His name was Sherlock. Yujin had been wondering for several months now; had actually felt quite bad for not knowing the name of the one he was so very infatuated with. Trouble was, whenever this man was standing before him, the thought to ask for his name would always find a very clever hiding place, not re-emerging from cover until it was too late to serve a purpose. Now, at last, the mystery had been solved and Yujin would be sure to cling to the answer, repeating it over and over so that he couldn't possibly forget.
Sherlock.
“... Hello?” he heard the familiar voice ask, and that was enough to startle him out of his thoughts again.
“Ack! Sorry! I'm sorry! Yes! I'm here,” Yujin stuttered, his cheeks burning. It was a good thing no one could see him.
“I'm just calling to let you know that I'm a wee bit late. ...Well, you've probably already noticed that part, huh? Thirty minute guarantee and all that. Traffic's all backed up here on Kingsway. Absolutely maddening, this is meant to be a five minute drive. But that's what the boss gets for insisting on using delivery vans in a place like London. If it was up to me, I'd be skirting by all this traffic on a scooter right about now. Anywhooo, I'll be there in a jiffy!”
Once it was clear the ramble was over, Yujin mustered up the courage to track his voice down again. “Oh, no, please don't worry about it. Take your time. I- we don't mind waiting. We aren't even hungry, really.”
“If you aren't hungry, then why did you order pizza?” Sherlock asked. The question didn't sound at all malicious. If anything, it came across as amused.
“We-Well, ah... We will be hungry. In a bit,” Yujin stammered awkwardly. “Just not yet, so. Ah. Please drive safely.”
“No problem. I'll just turn left here and take up a bit of pavement. The pedestrians aren't using it anyway.” There was a loud roaring sound, followed by distant honking and inaudible, angered shouting. “See you soon!” Sherlock said, then hung up the phone.
For a long moment, Yujin stood frozen. Then he returned to the living room. His stride came to an immediate halt, however, when he realized that Susato was shooting a deadpan stare at him from over the back of the sofa.
“We aren't even hungry?” she asked him, quirking a brow.
Yujin muttered a hasty apology and sat himself down by her side. Even so, his gaze once again strayed towards the window as opposed to the television.
----
It had been ten months already since that very first encounter. By now, Yujin found himself ordering pizza at least once a week. Susato appeared to be getting a bit exasperated. The exact cause remained a mystery. While it would've been easy to blame the constant reappearance of a food she did not particularly enjoy, Yujin would be the first to admit that his daughter was bright. If indeed she'd figured out the true motivation behind his dinner selections, she was too polite to say anything about it.
Mind, not all deliveries had brought him what he'd hoped to see. On rare occasion, someone other than Sherlock would appear before their door and hand the pizza to Yujin. There were two young girls among Omnibus Pizza's personnel who couldn't have been much older than Susato, one of them with very light hair and very dark makeup, whilst the other was a surly blonde girl who always kept her cap pulled down low over her eyes. One time they were even visited, much to Yujin's surprise, by Genshin Asogi's son. Law school must've been expensive indeed if the young man had resorted to a part time job. Regardless, Yujin would always find himself sorely disappointed to be met with any one of these faces.
It couldn't be helped, though. Sherlock surely needed time off from work as well, and there was no telling how many other deliveries needed to be made in one night. It was already remarkable that he'd showed up nine out of ten times. The one surefire way to be certain that he was handling the delivery, even before answering the door or even looking out the window, was to listen. There was always a very particular screeching combination of both tires and brakes, signifying that Sherlock was the one who'd just brought the delivery van to an abrupt stop along the curb.
Yujin liked to think it was enthusiasm which would always cause Sherlock to speed down the road like that. Deep down, he knew that was no more than a fantasy.
Regardless, it was that sound which, as always, had him leap to his feet. He paused by the hallway mirror to check his reflection, smoothing back his hair and plucking at his moustache. Susato was not home tonight; she'd gone to one of her friend's slumber parties. And so, with less pressure surrounding him, tonight would be the night.
Surely.
Hopefully.
Yes. Tonight he'd ask Sherlock out for a drink.
No. No, no, that was presumptuous. Perhaps Sherlock already had a partner. Yujin would have to ask about that first. But what would he do if the answer to that question were “yes”? He wasn't sure his heart could take it. Perhaps it was better not to ask at all.
That was even more ridiculous. The only way forward was to take a step. Otherwise, he might as well be moving backwards.
The ring of the bell told him there was no more time to waste on doubt and his thoughts were still reeling when he answered the door. Sure enough, Sherlock's usual smile left him even more winded. It must've been illegal to be this charming. There was no way something like this could be allowed.
“Just the one, tonight?” Sherlock asked, holding up a single box.
“Oh, yes. Yes, it's only me, ah, in here,” Yujin replied awkwardly.
Sherlock handed the pizza over without another word, though as soon as his hand was free, he raised it to snap his fingers with a jaunty grin. “Alright, so, let's have it.”
“I beg your pardon?” Confusion washed over Yujin, numbing his senses. He was sure he'd already paid online, as he always did.
“This is the night, isn't it? The ideal moment to ask me out?” Sherlock asked, still grinning.
Yujin felt his eyes widen and his lungs freeze. His fingernails cut into the cardboard of the pizza box. “The... The ideal moment...?” he repeated, breathless.
Sherlock gestured at him with both hands, encouraging him. “Go on. Ask me in for a drink.”
Yujin wanted to. He truly did. The trouble was, his brain was refusing to pass that command on to his vocal chords. “... How did you know?” was the question to pass his lips.
“I have eyes and a brain, my good man. Eyes and brain.” Sherlock tapped a finger against his temple, aforementioned eyes now closed as he spoke. “It's more than obvious for those who know to search for the signals, you see. Extraordinary amount of orders submitted to a subpar pizza place aside, your intentions are written all over your face, carved into your gestures and embedded within your voice.”
Quite a bit of shame now reared its ugly head within Yujin. Had he truly been so very obvious with his infatuation? Had he broadcast it to the whole world? Why hadn't Sherlock said something before? Was it because Susato had been in the house?
No, wait, that was the wrong thing to focus on. Sherlock had noticed all this time, yet hadn't minded. Perhaps he'd even taken every opportunity possible to deliver the pizzas to Yujin's house. Had he muscled his colleagues out of the way for the sake of these brief little visits? Such a purely hypothetical, yet now perfectly plausible scenario caused Yujin's heart to soar and something within his stomach to flutter. It filled him with the sort of resolve which came rare.
“Then... Will you? -Come in for a drink, that is?” he asked, donning a smile of his own.
“Yes,” Sherlock said, brightly and immediately, as if it were a joyous reflex. Then he started and shook his head, looking frustrated. “I mean- no- I can't. Confound it all! My shift doesn't end 'till ten.”
“Oh! Oh, of course! I'm so sorry. You're... You're on duty.”
Sherlock smirked slyly. “On duty, huh? That's a fun way of putting it. But uh... Maybe we could meet up somewhere else sometime? For coffee? Unless you've got a thing for the uniform and seeing me in normal clothes is a moodkiller.”
“What- No!” Yujin cried out, alarmed. When he saw a frown dawn on Sherlock's face, he quickly held up both his hands. “I mean- It's not a moodkiller at all, so... Yes! I'd love to meet up for coffee!”
“Splendid! How about tomorrow around 4? The Starbills by Baker Street's underground?”
“Ye-Yes, that sounds perfect.”
“Ok, good. We can grab a bite to eat after, so long as it's not pizza.” Sherlock paused to make an impressive face of disgust. “I'm sick of pizza.”
“Me too, honestly,” Yujin admitted, though as soon as he said it, he became painfully aware of the box in his hand.
Sherlock doubled over. holding onto his cap with one hand as booming laughter echoed down the street. “Ha ha ha! Well, think of it this way. Now you'll no longer have to order pizza to see me!”
Yujin chuckled. “Your boss might be disappointed to lose my patronage.”
“Oh, absolutely!” Sherlock stood up straight once more. He wagged a single index finger. “You're one of his favorite customers. So if you don't want to break his heart, one pizza a month ought to do it.”
“That sounds fair enough.”
“Right, so... Starbills, tomorrow at 4! I'll see you then!”
One more wave of the hand, then Sherlock spun on his heel and began to make his way back to the delivery van. Yujin watched him go, his heart still beating rapidly with excitement. He hadn't been on a date since... Well, more than sixteen years, that much was for certain. There'd never been any expectation that he ever would date again. All it took was that special someone, he supposed.
The delivery van sped off down the street and Yujin stayed where he was for a moment longer, allowing the cold evening air to soothe his burning cheeks. Then he stared down at the box in his hands, reminded that he would need to suffer through one more dreadful ordeal tonight. Truth be told, the notion that he was sick of pizza was an understatement. He'd begun to despise it just a little.
The End