Work Text:
Yahaba sucked in a breath to calm his heartbeat. He regretted it.
He could taste the food around him. It was reeking, and he gagged. He didn’t bother to excuse himself, as his team watched him so obviously that their eyes on him were almost tangible, suffocating grips around his throat.
It was fine outside, and his breath came back to him like a door slamming open when he found a spot to sit down.
‘If you’re going to infiltrate my personal space, at least greet me first.’
Yahaba’s head flicked towards Kyoutani who grinned widely at him.
'Better view here,’ Kyoutani beckoned.
Yahaba sat next to him, and a paper bag was placed in his hand.
Certain foods still triggered Yahaba even after years of therapy. Certain words, people touching him at times, and even the sight of some people made him feel insecure inside.
But not this. Not fried chicken in cute little packaging. Not well thought-out gifts from childhood best friends. Not offerings from someone he knew and who knew him in his harshest times.
Warmth was good. Food satiated hunger. Most of the time. And so he clung on to the better times, and was grateful for when others clung to him in the worst of times.
Yahaba unwrapped the chicken piece and a little smile appeared on his face.