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Not again.
“This must be a joke,” Rima says plainly.
“If it was, you’d be laughing,” Nagihiko argues, perfect lips quirked up at the corners in that horrible, irritating way of his.
“I’d laugh if it was funny,” Rima says, index finger pointing accusingly at Nagihiko’s stupid face. “And you’re not funny.”
Frankly, if this was anyone else, Rima would inevitably find this comedic in one way or another. There is something inherently hilarious to the singular way in which, lately, all of their friends seem to regularly disappear out of thin air for hours—leaving Rima and Nagihiko alone for what feels like the seventh time in the past month alone.
But this isn't anyone else.
“You wound me,” Nagihiko sighs deeply, long hair swinging dramatically as he plops down next to her on the lonely rooftop bench, his uniform dark against her gray one.
Rima stares down helplessly at her phone screen. Surely enough, neither Kairi or Amu have acknowledged any of their messages, even though Amu herself had called for a meeting today.
“They’re liars,” Rima accuses under her breath, legs tucked neatly under her chin. “All of them.”
“They must’ve had something coming up,” Nagihiko argues, though Rima assumes it’s just to be contrary. Nagihiko enjoys being contrary, and purposefully dull, and missing the point for the sake of watching her glare.
Nagihiko is quite smart for a stupid guy. Which means he must be perfectly aware that Rima is not at all bothered by their friends ditching them—okay, she is also bothered by that, because they’re assholes, but—but rather—they’d promised.
They’d said so at the start of high school last year, hadn’t they? That they’d meet regularly. That leaving for different high schools wouldn’t separate them. That they’d answer messages, and they’d have snacks, and they’d go to the movies—
“Liars,” Rima pouts through her teeth, sniffing softly. She can feel Nagihiko’s eyes on her face, probably bright and big as usual. Normally, she might have felt glad she gets to curse everyone out with someone, and maybe laugh at Kukai’s new haircut.
But this is Nagihiko. He's not normal at all.
“There, there,” Nagihiko elbows her in the side, and it suddenly hits Rima that he's gotten close, ridiculously, distractingly so.
“Is that supposed to comfort me?” Rima mutters. She narrows her eyes, turning to finally get a good look at him.
It’d be startling to look at how well Nagihiko has grown into his high school uniform, if only she hadn’t been seeing him so very often. His hair is just as long as it used to. Originally, he would only tie it up as Nadeshiko, but lately he seems comfortable enough to keep it up in a ponytail. The warm, late afternoon sun haloes him, bringing out the brown of his bright, amused eyes.
Rima doesn’t notice the plasticky package he’s extending til it bops her on the nose.
“I guess we’ll have to share all of this between ourselves,” Nagihiko muses, rattling the small konbini bag in his other hand.
Snacks?
“Humph,” Rima scoffs, turning back to stare at the ground again, even as she snatches the little milk bread from his hand.
Oh.
Maple syrup filling.
Once, twice, Rima blinks at the package—just to be startled by the carton of banana milk dangling right next to her head. She whips towards him with a huff, staring up accusingly.
“What,” Nagihiko says, a sheepish grin on his elegant lips. “We’ve been at this for a while now. I know all your favorites.”
It is true, Rima reasons suddenly; of course they have been at this for a while, and of course he would know all of her preferences, because Fujisaki Nagihiko always shows up. Everyone may be intent on ditching her, but not Nagihiko. Never Nagihiko.
He grabs her forearm, fine nails tingling against her skin, and something is terribly, horribly wrong with Rima's stomach, and what is he so close for? She can only watch as he pries her fingers open, plopping a single candy in her palm. Rima stares down at it and, sure enough—
“Blueberry?” Rima glares up at him. “That’s not my favorite.”
“I know,” Nagihiko says simply. “That’s mine.”
And then he leans in, his breath fanning her face, dislodging a stray curl from her forehead. Rima's fists close around the plastic, digging into her palms, because—because what sort of silly prank—
“Your fave is Fizzle Cola,” he murmurs, raises his hand, and pops a shiny, brown candy into his own mouth.
His lips are close and pretty, pretty like he always is, and stupid like the rest of him.
“You're not funny at all,” she breathes above the incomprehensible thudding in her chest.
“Then teach me how to do better,” Nagihiko whispers. “Make me laugh, Rima.”
And Rima could potentially try, but she'd also rather he just shut the hell up, so, really, it's perfectly reasonable that she drops the candy in her lap and pulls him in by the collar.
Rima's first kiss is short and sugary. It's nothing like she has ever imagined it, except it feels inevitable that it would be. Her second is warm and louder as Nagihiko's hands cup her cheeks, gasping even as he's the one pulling her closer.
She has no idea what to do with her hands, but her head is turning too fast to wonder at all, her fingers digging viciously into the fabric of his sweater as their lips meet again, and again, and again until she thinks they've surely stopped breathing.
“I think the others leave us alone on purpose,” Nagihiko utters between heaving breaths.
“I want them dead,” Rima pants back.
And then Nagihiko is shaking in her arms—laughing, she realizes, laughing so hard he can't seem to look up at her, his face warm against her neck, and she likes to imagine it's red and ugly from effort, though it's very unlikely Nagihiko has ever been ugly a day in his life. The thought alone is enough to draw out a chuckle, and in seconds she's following him into fits of hysterical laughter before either of them can catch their breaths at all.
“You're ridiculous,” is the first thing that comes snickering out of Nagihiko’s mouth once he's valiantly managed to sit back.
“And you're rude,” Rima huffs, barely fighting her lingering grin. “I don't like you at all, this is why I like—”
“Wanna go to the cinema after this?”
“Nadeshiko better and if the guys were so tired of your sorry pining then they should've just said—”
“They're showing a comedy with that actor you like,” he cuts in, undeterred, fingers tangling into Rima's scolding ones.
The sun is finally setting and Nagihiko just cannot for the life of him seem to stop giggling. Rima is only grateful it covers the drums of her beating heart.
“Pray he's funnier than you,” she scoffs, squeezing his hand as she drags him off the bench.