Chapter Text
Last package, and I’ll be done for the day.
Kyoutani climbed up the apartment stairs, listening to the loud creaks every step made as he silently wished that the stairs won’t collapse under him. He glared at the steps for good measure.
The apartment sure is rundown…
The building was tucked in a deserted corner at the end of a quiet street, which was why Kyoutani found it hard finding it. The metal stairs were unstable and cranky, the paints on the wall were peeling off and the roof was rusty and dirty. He was surprised anyone could even bear visiting the place, much less live there. He won’t be shock to see an old man opening the door to receive his package.
He compared the unit number on the parcel and the faded label on the door before him. It’s this one .
Ding dong.
Kyoutani heard shuffling feet getting louder and louder till it reached the door. Metal click of the lock. The door opened, revealing its tenant. No amount of time or preparation could have prepared him for that moment. His mind stop working, his body stopped moving, and time stood still the moment the stranger’s face appeared before him.
Ba-thump.
If there was one thing Kyoutani hated the most, it was cliche romance scenes. But he couldn’t deny his reaction, although he tried hard to ignore it. Hell, he haven’t even heard the guy speak and he’s already frozen in place.
“Um, hello? May I help you?”
His voice was clear and crisp, but warm and kind, and just a little deep. Like a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, crispy at the edge, soft at the centre, gooey melted chocolate chips all round.
Realising he still haven’t stated his purpose, Kyoutani quickly opened his mouth to speak.
“Eh, um, I’m here to deliver this parcel to,” he paused to look at the name stated on the package, “Yahaba Shigeru-san.”
“Ah, that’s me. Thank you very much.”
Yahaba stretched out his hands and gingerly lifted the brown wrapped box off Kyoutani’s hands, smiling kindly at him. Kyoutani felt his heart skip a beat.
He has smooth hands , Kyoutani noted internally when their hands brushed against each other.The smile he showed was a practiced one, the edge of his lips lifted just to the right angle, eyes closed, and even though Kyoutani wasn’t that near he swore that he could see his long eyelashes outlining the shape of his eyes. His light brown hair was glossy and a little long, his side-bangs almost covering his right eye.
He was picture perfect.
“Is there...anything else I need to do?” the beauty before him asked, blinking in confusion at Kyoutani’s lack of words or movement.
Kyoutani panicked, quickly passing him a paper to sign, collected it back then rapidly fleeing the scene with a curt “thank you”, hoping with all his might that his stare wasn’t noticed.
~*~*~
The days that followed were a mystery to Yahaba. After a very awkward encounter with the blond delivery guy, he received many more deliveries, this time all bouquets of flowers, with no name of the sender or a letter or note with the intention, delivered by the very same guy. The blond was a slightly shorter than he was, with an undercut and a black piercing on his left ear, black eyeliner drawn around his eyes, always accompanied with a light dust of pink on his cheeks. He never maintained eye contact, only sneaked quick glances when he thought Yahaba wasn’t looking. Yahaba wondered if delivering anything could make anyone flush that much.
Many times, he would ask if the delivery guy - Kyoutani, he read from his name tag - knew who the mysterious sender was. Everytime, he shook his head in response.
Two weeks later, Yahaba was seated down at his dining table, newly delivered flowers in hand - lavender this time, his favourites - signed off for the first time with “ your secret admirer” when everything clicked into place. The bouquets, the mysterious admirer, the faint blush, the sneaky glances, the light brush of fingers each time the flowers were passed to him.
Ah. Why didn’t he notice it sooner?
The flowers dropped on the table, feet rushed out of the door and down the creaky stairs with loud thuds, till Yahaba was in front of Kyoutani, barefooted and panting, bent over with his hands on his knees for support, trying to catch his breath. The sun was setting, orange light casting a soft glow around the motorbike and the man before him, stuck in a perpetual state of shock.
“Wanna come in for some tea?”