Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your favorite song was playing on repeat, drowning out the world around you as you walked, earbuds stuffed in tight. You were mouthing the lyrics, scrolling through your messages, barely watching where your feet were taking you. The city blurred past.

You didn’t see the car speeding toward the crosswalk.

Didn’t hear the horn.

Didn’t notice the danger— until a hand grabs your wrist and yanks you backward with surprising force.

Your feet stumble. Your phone flies from your grip. You gasp as your back collides with a solid chest, and a car whooshes past where you were standing just seconds ago. Your heart is hammering.

You look up, breath caught.

The first thing you see is his hair—split evenly down the middle, black on one side, white on the other. Then his eyes—one gold, one silver. Unnatural. Hypnotic.

“…Angel,” you whisper, not meaning to speak aloud.

Haruka Sakura blinks down at you, still gripping your wrist. His face is unreadable.

“Huh?” he mutters, flat and a little confused. His brow twitches, not in annoyance but in genuine disbelief that you’d call him that.

You straighten quickly, pulling your arm back. Your face burns. “I—I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, I had my music on. You saved me. Thank you.”

You avoid his eyes, rubbing the back of your neck, heart pounding for more reasons than just the car.

Haruka looks away too, fast. “Tch. Don’t walk around like an idiot next time.”

But his ears are a faint shade of red.

His heart, usually calm and steady, stutters.

Why does he feel like this?

Why does your voice—flustered, small—echo in his chest like it means something?

He shoves his hands into his pockets, pretending he doesn’t care. But your whisper plays again in his head.

Angel.

No one has ever said something like that to him. Not about him. His appearance usually unsettles people—his eyes, his hair, his silence. He’s heard people call him creepy, unsettling. He’s used to it.

But now?

“Wait,” you say, bending to grab your phone. “What’s your name?”

He hesitates.

“…Haruka. Haruka Sakura.”

You repeat it under your breath like you want to remember it. “Sakura. Got it.”

You glance at him again. The sunlight catches his mismatched eyes just right.

“You really do look like an angel,” you say, this time softer, more certain. “And beautiful, too.”

He stiffens.

His eyes widen. He just stares at you like he can’t quite process what you said.

“…What the hell?” he breathes.

A beat passes.

Then his face flushes crimson, all the way to his ears.

“Wh—Don’t—!” He takes a small step back, voice cracking slightly. “Don’t say stuff like that outta nowhere!”

You blink, surprised by how flustered he looks. Then you laugh quietly. “Sorry. I meant it, though.”

Haruka quickly looks away. He can’t meet your eyes. His face is hot, and his usual calm is completely wrecked. His chest feels full, too full.

This isn’t normal.

He doesn’t get shy. He doesn’t get embarrassed.

But here you are.

And something about you—the way you smile, the way you looked at him like he was something good—it lingers deep in his chest.

That night, he doesn’t sleep well.

The memory replays in his head over and over. The sound of your voice. The look in your eyes. The word you called him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Beautiful. Angel.

He thinks it’ll fade by morning.

It doesn’t.

---

The next day, he surprises himself.

“…Hey,” he mutters to Umemiya and the others as they hang around. “You guys know someone named [Your Name]?”

The group quiets.

Choji blinks. Hayato looks over, interested.

Umemiya grins. “You actually asking about someone?”

“Shut up,” Haruka says sharply, eyes shifting away. “Just answer.”

Hayato tilts his head. “Name sounds familiar… Oh! Isn’t she that girl who’s always at that record shop in the third district? Headphones on all the time, kinda spaced out?”

Umemiya snaps his fingers. “Yeah, yeah! Cute girl. Listens to weird old stuff, right?”

Haruka stays quiet, but the tips of his fingers curl a little in his pockets.

Yeah. That’s you.

He doesn’t say it.

“Tch. Whatever,” he mutters.

Choji smirks. “You into her?”

“I said shut up.”

The teasing fades, and the conversation drifts. But Haruka stays quiet, filing every word away in his mind.

Record shop. Third district. Headphones. Cute.

The next time he passes through that area, his eyes search the crowd.

And when he sees you again—headphones in, slightly swaying to your music, completely in your own world—it hits him like a punch to the chest.

The feeling.

The warmth.

The ache.

He’s not sure what to do with it.

But then—

“Hey, angel boy!”

You spot him instantly. Your grin lights up your face. You walk straight over without hesitation.

He flinches like you’ve just said something scandalous in front of a crowd.

“…You again?” he mutters, trying to sound unimpressed. His heart’s already pounding.

“Yup. Destiny, maybe?” you tease.

He looks away. “Tch. Not funny.”

You just smile and nod toward the vending machine he’s standing beside. “You choosing something, or just giving it the evil eye?”

“They’re out of the coffee I wanted,” he mutters.

You gasp, dramatically. “That’s tragic. Want me to make it up to you with food?”

He blinks, stunned. “…What?”

“I was on my way to eat anyway. Let me treat you. You saved me, remember? Still owe you.”

He stiffens.

“I didn’t save you for that,” he mutters. “I didn’t want anything.”

“I know,” you say gently. “But I still want to.”

A pause.

Then—“…Fine.”

---

The restaurant is tucked between narrow streets, warm and low-lit. The smell of grilled food drifts from the kitchen.

You talk easily—nothing too deep, just soft laughter and stories that fill the air like music. You don’t push. You just… exist. Kindly. Comfortably.

Haruka listens more than he speaks.

He watches, memorizing the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh. The way you lean forward when you’re excited. The way you slide food toward him without a second thought.

“Try this,” you say, nudging a plate over. “It’s my favorite.”

He eyes it. “I don’t like sweet stuff.”

“Good thing that one’s spicy.”

He hesitates. Then tries it.

“…Not bad.”

You beam like he just said something profound.

He looks away again.

Everything about this is unfamiliar. Strange. Good.

When the bill comes, you reach for it, but he stops you with a glance and a quiet tap on the table.

“Split it,” he says.

“But—”

“I don’t like owing people.”

You pause, then nod. “Okay.”

Outside, the night is cool and still. Stars blink above, faint behind the city glow.

You brush your hair from your face. “Thanks for coming with me. I really liked it.”

He shrugs. “Wasn’t terrible.”

You laugh. “You’re getting soft.”

He shifts, uncomfortable. Then, after a pause—

“That day… when the car almost hit you.” His voice is low, almost hesitant. “If I hadn’t shown up… what would’ve happened?”

You blink. “I guess I would’ve been hurt.”

He nods once, then falls quiet again.

Then, quietly—almost awkwardly—“Give me your number.”

You blink, stunned. “Huh?”

“In case something happens again. You should… call someone.”

You smile, warm. “Okay.”

You take his phone, type it in, and hand it back.

“No accidents next time, though,” you say. “Just call me for food.”

He stares down at your name glowing on his screen.

His chest aches in a way that’s soft and overwhelming all at once.

He walks away fast, hoodie up, head ducked, as if fleeing the scene of a crime.

But that night, Haruka Sakura lies awake in bed, your name still lighting up his screen.

And for the first time in forever, the weight in his chest feels a little less heavy.

He doesn’t know what this is.

But he knows one thing:

He doesn’t want it to end.

Chapter Text

The school party ran longer than expected.

Music pulsed through the halls, laughter, flickering lights, the warmth of friends and shared drinks—it was all golden in that moment. But now the streets outside are emptying fast and the wind feels colder than it should.

You stand under a streetlamp, dress swaying gently in the night breeze.

Wine-red. It hugs your frame in a way that's quiet, not flashy—elegant, graceful, but undeniably stunning. Your hair brushes your shoulders, loose and soft under the golden light. A matching shade of lipstick curves on your lips. Brown heels tap against the pavement as you shift uneasily.

You check your phone. Then glance around.

The street is too quiet for comfort.

You don't like walking home alone. Not tonight. Not looking like this.

Then—

"Y/n."

The voice cuts through the air, soft and low. Familiar. You freeze.

Your head whips toward the sound.

And there he is.

Haruka Sakura.

Your breath catches.

He stands just beyond the reach of the streetlamp, half in shadow. His white-and-black split hair falls across his face, framing those striking mismatched eyes—gold and silver, gleaming like twin stars.

But he isn't looking at the world.

He's looking at you.

And for a second, he forgets how to breathe.

The way your dress hugs your curves, the soft flutter of your hair, the warmth in your cheeks—all of it glows like something out of a dream. You're radiant in the kind of way that doesn't try to be. That's what stuns him most.

Sakura's eyes widen before he can stop himself.

His heart stumbles in his chest.

You're… beautiful.

Too beautiful.

Then you see him.

And you light up like the world just gave you everything you asked for.

A smile spreads across your lips. You lift your hand and wave, heels clicking as you run toward him.

"Oh my god!! My angel is here!!"

Sakura jolts.

His ears burn red. Jaw tightens. Blood rushes up his neck like fire.

Angel?! What the hell was that?!

Why does that sound so soft when you say it?

You stop in front of him, still glowing, still smiling like you've just been rescued by someone divine.

"Wait—what are you doing here?" you ask, breathless.

He shifts. Hands in pockets. Doesn't meet your eyes.

"I… was just passing by," he mumbles.

His voice cracks slightly.

Lie.

You know it. He knows it.

But you don't call him out.

Instead, your smile widens. "Doesn't matter. You're here now. So you have to walk me home, okay?"

He blinks. "Huh?"

You bump your shoulder into his, teasing. "At least do that much as my friend.'

That word lands like a bruise in his chest. 

Friend. 

But he doesn:t flinch.

"Tch. Fine."

You walk side by side.

The night is cool. Wind rustles through trees and through your hair. Sakura keeps sneaking glances—quick flickers, then back to the ground. His fingers twitch in his pockets. He tells himself to calm down. To stop staring.

But you're too pretty like this. Too soft. Too close.

It's not fair.

"My friends from Bofurin told me about your party,' he says suddenly. His voice is quiet, but steady. "Said you'd be late."

You glance at him, surprised. "Oh?"

He shrugs. "I just… wanted to make sure you got home safe."

There. He said it.

Something warm touches your expression. You slow a little, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

"That's really sweet of you."

He coughs into his hand, looking away fast. His ears are red again.

He hears it though—sweet.

You called him sweet.

You keep walking.

Then suddenly, you speak again. "You'd make the perfect boyfriend."

He stumbles mid-step. "What!"

"I'm already jealous of your future girlfriend," you tease, laughing softly. "She's gonna be the luckiest girl alive."

His heart slams in his chest.

Lucky?

Someone else?

He stops walking.

Your footsteps pause too. You turn back, confused.

"Haruka?"

He lifts his head.

And this time, he looks directly at you. No flickering. No hesitation.

Those strange, beautiful eyes burn with something raw.

"That's annoying," he mutters.

Your brows lift. "Huh?"

He holds your gaze. "I don't want a future girlfriend."

You blink. Something flutters wildly in your chest.

"What do you mean?"

His voice drops, just above a whisper.

"I want it to be you."

Silence.

The breeze fades. The world holds its breath.

And then—your lips curve slowly. A soft, knowing smile.

"I was waiting for you to say that, angel boy."

Sakura's entire soul short-circuits.

His eyes widen.

You step closer, eyes shining.

"I'd love to be yours."

That's it.

That's the final blow.

His face explodes with color. He hides his mouth behind his hand like it can somehow stop the heat rushing up his entire body.

"You're insane," he mutters.

You giggle. "You like insane girls."

He doesn't reply.

He doesn't need to.

The rest of the walk is quiet. Easy. Full of stolen glances and thudding hearts.

And inside Sakura's chest, something unfurls—wild, terrifying, soft.

And he lets it.

Chapter Text

You had no idea what to expect when Haruka finally invited you to meet the rest of Bofurin.

"I'll be there too," he said coolly, barely glancing up—but his ears betrayed him, red and flaring. "So… don't be weird."

You blinked. "Weird? I'm literally the most normal person in your life."

"Exactly," he muttered.

Still, no matter how awkwardly he delivered it, you know it's a big deal. Haruka Sakura doesn't just bring people in. He doesn't share his world. But now he is.

And so—here you are.

Standing awkwardly near the edge of a sunlit rooftop training space, the faint smell of turf and sweat in the air, a group of delinquent boys are adjusting flower pots—yes, actual flower pots.

You blink at the bizarre contrast. "What the hell…?"

One of the boys—a little shorter than the others, pink-haired, with a cute smile—smiles when he spots you. "They're Umemiya's babies"

You freeze, then look at him with shock

"Umemiya, as in the leader of bofurin?"

He walks over casually, hands in his pockets, like he's done this a hundred times. "Yeah," he says smoothly. "Anyways, you must be the girl Sakura's always staring at his phone over."

You freeze. 'Huh?! He stares at his phone?!"

"Mmhm," the guy hums, rocking. "All the time. Doesn't even try to hide it."

You gape. "That doesn't sound like him."

"Oh, he pretends to be subtle," the boy says, grinning wider. "But it's obvious. Especially when he starts smiling like a lovesick idiot."

You don't know whether to melt or combust. "Seriously…?"

"Dead serious. I'm Kiryu, by the way."

You nod, cheeks warm. "Nice to meet you."

Kiryu gestures to the shady part of the rooftop where a bench is tucked beside some flowerpots. "Wanna sit and watch for a bit? Safer over there."

You hesitate—but he's polite, and honestly, you do want to see what Sakura's life looks like from the inside.

"Sure," you say.

The moment your back is turned, Sakura sees you.

He's been talking drills with Suo, expression unreadable. But the second his eyes land on you—you, standing beside Kiryu, laughing, looking too comfortable—he stops cold.

Something ugly and unfamiliar lurches in his chest.

He sees Kiryu lean closer.

He sees you smile back.

And he loses it.

"Sakura San?" Suo looks at him cautiously, raising a brow. "What's up?"

Sakura doesn't answer. His jaw tightens. He storms off without a word.

He moves like a shadow—silent, sharp, fast. His presence shifts the whole atmosphere.

You glance up when you hear the footsteps. "Oh hey! You're done already?"

He doesn't even look at you.

Just stops directly in front of you and Kiryu, voice cutting through the rooftop air like a blade.

"She:s my girlfriend."

Silence.

Every conversation nearby screeches to a halt.

Even Suo, who's halfway through a drink, chokes on it.

You stare at Sakura. "Wait—what?"

Sakura's eyes flick to yours, then away again, ears going crimson.

"I mean—you said yes the other night, right?"  he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. "So what's the big deal?"

Kiryu raises both hands, grinning. "My bad. Didn't know she was taken."

Suo cackles from the corner. "Damn, Sakura. Didn't peg you for the type to claim it loud."

Sakura glares at him. "Shut up."

You quickly tug his sleeve, trying to pull him aside before he burns a hole through someone's skull. "Hey. Come here."

He lets you drag him away from the group, lips pressed in a firm line, face crimson, breathing heavy.

"Haruka," you say quietly. "You okay?"

"No," he mumbles.

You blink. "Because of Kiryu?"

He doesn't answer, but the way his brows pinch together says it all.

You try not to smile. "You got jealous."

"I didn't."

"You totally did."

"Did not."

"You marched over here and declared your love like we were in a drama."

"I didn't declare anything," he grumbles.

"You said She's my girlfriend."

"Because you are," he snaps—then immediately looks away, face practically glowing. "Right?"

You step closer. "Of course I am."

His shoulders relax just a little—but then his eyes flick to Kiryu again, and he scowls.

You tilt your head. "You really didn't like me talking to him, huh?"

"He was leaning in," he mutters. "And you were laughing."

"I laugh with you all the time."

"That's different. That's mine."

Your breath catches.

Before you can respond, Sakura mutters, "Don't talk to other guys like that again. I’ll lose my mind."

You soften, stepping into his space, whispering against the shell of his ear. "You looked kinda hot when you said I was your girlfriend, though."

His whole body stiffens.

"You—stop. Don't—say shit like that," he hisses, completely red again. "You're doing it on purpose."

You giggle. "Doing what?"

"Driving me crazy."

"I thought I wasn't supposed to be weird."

"This is worse than weird."

Despite his words, his hand finds yours. He laces your fingers together tightly, tugging you with him like he's shielding you from the entire damn rooftop.

Meanwhile, across the way, the rest of Bofurin watches the scene unfold.

Kiryu whistles low. "I give it a week before Sakura loses it and starts walking her to class like a golden retriever."

Tsugeura smirks. "I give it three days before he punches someone just for breathing in her direction."

Suo shrugs. “Two days.”

Umemiya waters his plants. “We’ll need to install a bench nearby. For the Haruka meltdown show."

Sakura doesn't hear any of it.

He's too focused on you.

Too aware of how your hand fits in his, how your smile undoes him, how one comment from someone else can send his self-control spiraling.

"Thanks for coming," he says quietly, not meeting your eyes, blushing as always.

You glance at him, smiling. "Thanks for letting me in."

He doesn't say anything else.

But he walks with you the rest of the afternoon, hand never leaving yours, glaring at any boy who so much as breathes in your direction.

And when you look up at him, all sharp jaw and stormy eyes and ears still blushing red—

You realize Haruka Sakura might lose his mind over you.

But he'd do it again.

And again.

And again.

Chapter Text

The street is empty.

It's nearly 10 pm. The streetlights flicker yellow over the cracked pavement and the only sound is your own footsteps echoing quietly as you walk home alone from your part-time job.

Your backpack is heavy, your legs are tired, and your fingers are clenched tightly around your small purse. Inside is everything you earned this week. Every shift, every hour, every bit you'd saved. It's not much—but it's yours.

You keep your head low, crossing your arms tightly against the breeze. Almost home, you tell yourself. Just a few more blocks. It'll be fine.

But then—

A shadow moves.

Fast.

A blur.

And your purse is yanked from your hand.

You stagger. "H-Hey—!"

Too late. The figure sprints down the alley and disappears into the dark.

You freeze. Your body doesn't move. Your voice cracks.

That was your money. Your everything.

You stand there, stunned, heart thudding in your throat, as the realization sinks in. You can't breathe.

And then your eyes well up.

You don't cry. You hate crying. But your knees wobble. Your lip trembles.

I worked so hard…

A choked breath escapes your lips—

Until—

A thud echoes behind you.

Then a sharp, familiar voice.

"Oi."

You spin around.

Your heart stutters.

There, emerging from the alley like he walked straight out of a manga panel, is Haruka Sakura.

His jacket is slightly tousled, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other casually dangling your purse from his fingers. His hair is a little messy. There's a small cut on his lip, like he got into a scuffle.

He tosses the purse toward you, and you barely catch it.

"Yours, right?"

You stare.

Your mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

"I saw the guy," he mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "Was about to head home when I noticed you walking. Didn't like the look of him. So I followed."

You blink hard, trying to keep the tears back. "You… you followed me?"

"Not in a creepy way," he snaps, clearly flustered. "Just—whatever. I do that sometimes."

You bite your lip. "You do?"

Sakura stiffens. 'Tch. Forget I said that."

You look down at the purse, still stunned.

It's warm from his hand. Your fingers tighten around it. "Thank you."

He shifts his weight awkwardly, avoiding your gaze, ears pink.

"You okay?" he asks, voice lower now. "You looked like you were gonna cry."

You stare at the ground. "I—I almost did."

His jaw clenches. "You shouldn't. You're too quiet for this city. Creeps think you're easy to mess with."

You swallow. "But you came."

He falters.

You look up at him through your lashes. "You came for me."

He blinks. His ears go red. "D-Don't say it like that. Makes it sound weird."

You try not to smile.

For a second, silence lingers between you. Not awkward. Just warm.

And then—

"I… um." You fumble with the strap of your bag, nervously stepping forward. "Do you want something? As a thank-you? I can—I can make you dinner. Or boba. Or something sweet."

He looks at you like you've just offered to kill him.

"You don't have to do that," he mutters, clearly panicking. "I didn't do it for a reward or whatever."

"I know," you whisper. "But I want to."

He doesn't move.

You can see him short-circuiting.

"Boba?" he mumbles eventually.

Your eyes widen. "You—you want that?"

"I mean. Whatever. I'm not saying I like it. Just—if you're offering. I guess."

You stare at him, stunned.

"You have a favorite flavor?"

He hesitates, then mutters something under his breath.

"What?"

"Brown sugar. Don't laugh."

You cover your mouth. "I'm not laughing."

His face is bright red now, ears burning.

"You are!"

"I'm not!"

"Stop looking at me like that!"

"Like what?"

"Like you're gonna cry again—but in a good way."

You take a deep breath. Step a little closer. "Thank you for being here."

He doesn't answer right away. Just looks at you for a long second—his usual cold expression softening at the edges.

"You're welcome," he says finally, voice quieter, scratching his neck. "Just… next time, text me when you get off work. I'll walk you home."

You blink. "You want me to?"

He nods once, like it's obvious. "Yeah. You'll get lost in your head and not notice the world."

You smile softly. "Okay."

You walk side by side after that.

Close enough that your hands almost touch—but never quite.

Until he quietly, awkwardly, reaches out and tugs your sleeve.

You look up at him.

"Don't forget the brown sugar boba," he mutters, looking away, blushing again. "You promised."

Your cheeks flush.

"I won't."

And neither of you says it yet—but something sweet settles in your chest.

Maybe next time, you'll reach for his hand.

And maybe he'll finally let you hold it.

Chapter Text

Haruka Sakura is panicking.

He's sitting beside you on the train, gripping his phone with a blank look while you stare out the window, arms crossed, lips slightly pouting.

You haven't said a word in fifteen minutes. Your brows have been knit together the whole time. And when he offered you a pack of your favorite snacks, you just said, "No, thank you," in a tone that sounded way too polite for the girl who usually calls him "angel" like it's his first name.

He gulps quietly.

Did he do something?

Forget something?

Did someone say something to you?

Have you stopped liking him?

Is this the beginning of the end?!

He sneaks another look at your face. You shift uncomfortably, your hand subtly pressing to your lower stomach, as if trying to hide it. Your expression twists just a little more, and Sakura silently screams inside.

You're definitely mad.

Shit.....

What did he do wrong?

Did he mess something up?

Was it something he said?

Maybe you finally realized that he's boring. Too quiet. Too violent. Too… him.

His fists tighten on his knees as the train hums beneath him. He glances at you again, subtly. You're leaning against the glass, one hand resting gently over your lower abdomen, fingers twitching as if trying not to grip the fabric of your skirt.

You look uncomfortable.

Tense.

Like you're suppressing something.

And that just makes his anxiety worse.

You've always been honest with him. Loudly, even. So why now?

Are you falling out of love?

---

You arrive at Kotoha's café in quiet steps, and the moment you walk in, the atmosphere shifts. The soft clink of mugs. The warmth of familiar faces. Kotoha waves from behind the counter, her sleeves rolled up, a towel slung over her shoulder.

But the moment she sees your face, her smirk falters.

"…Damn," she mutters. "Who hurt you?"

You force a smile, barely there. "No one. Just… tired."

You're not lying, exactly.

You are tired.

Tired of the dull ache blooming inside you since this morning. The cramps that came without warning. The fog in your head. The twist in your stomach every time you moved too fast or stood up too quickly.

You didn't want to cancel on Sakura.

Not when his voice sounded hopeful on the phone.

 “Come out with me.”

“I wanna show you something.”

You could never say no to that.

Even if you feel like your uterus is trying to strangle you from the inside.

---

Haruka sits across from you now, eyes flicking from your hands to your face and back again. You can tell he's trying to say something. Trying to figure out what's wrong.

But you don't have the heart to dump your girl problems on his lap. He's not used to that kind of talk. Not yet. And this isn't like you — you who normally teases him, pokes fun at his scowls, makes him blush with pet names in public.

You're trying to be normal. Trying not to ruin the day.

But maybe you're trying too hard.

Because when Kotoha comes over with a mug of steaming herbal tea — something earthy and floral — she doesn't say a word. Just places it gently in front of you and gives you a look.

That look.

The "I know exactly what kind of day you're having" look.

You blink up at her, lips parted. She just smiles.

Then she leans down next to Haruka and whispers under her breath.

He tenses.

"…What?"

Kotoha repeats herself louder this time. "She's on her period, dumbass."

Haruka's whole body stiffens. "…Huh?"

"She's experiencing cramps. Probably dying inside right now, and you dragged her out for a date."

He looks at you. Really looks this time.

The quiet wincing. The way you shift slowly in your seat. The almost-pale cast to your face. Your hand, curled gently against your abdomen like a shield.

You weren't mad.

You were hurting.

And even though when he should be blushing and yell at Kotoha for saying something about period about which he has no idea about.... his chest tightens. He's feeling worried.

Because that's not important right now. That important thing is you're hurting right now. 

"Y/n....." he says, his voice lower now, soft and almost unsure. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You blink up at him, startled. "Tell you what?"

"That you're on your.... pe.." He blushes, looking away. "No, I mean that you don't.... don’t feel good?”

You look away too. Embarrassed. "It:s not a big deal."

He looks at you again, worried, "But you're hurting!"

"I didn't wanna cancel on you," you murmur, fingers wrapping tighter around the mug. "I know you were looking forward to this. I was too. I just—didn't want to disappoint you."

Haruka stares.

The silence stretches.

Then, without a word, he scoots around the booth and sits beside you instead.

He doesn't speak. He just shifts so his arm is behind you, his shoulder warm against yours. Awkward, blushing.

"Next time," he mutters quietly, ears red "just tell me, ok?"

You nod slowly, leaning into him.

"I'm sorry if I looked mad…"

"You scared me."

"…I scared you?" you echo, laughing softly. "You fight people for fun."

"Yeah, and you looked scarier than all of them."

You blink. 

He shrugs, embarrassed, now even his neck goes red. "Your face was… really serious. And you didn't call me anything. I thought you hated me."

You shake your head, trying not to laugh. "Never. I just felt like crap."

Haruka exhales. A long, slow breath.

"I'll carry you next time, then" he says flatly. "If you're hurting. I'll come to your house. Bring stuffs. Just like Suo and Nirei does when I'm sick. You don't have to move."

You look up at him, surprised. "Really?"

He nods, dead serious. 

Also blushing like a cute schoolgirl.

You smile and lean your head on his shoulder, staring right at his eyes.

"…I like when you say stuff like that."

"Hey.... I- I'm not trying to be romantic!"

“You are, though."

He doesn't answer. Just looks away to hide his blush.

Outside, the world moves on as the café buzzes softly with life. Kotoha pretends not to stare and fails miserably. And Haruka, still so serious, still so awkward, keeps blushing.