Work Text:
“Kunikida-san, may I bother you for a moment?” you turn to your coworker next to you.
An unamused sigh comes from him. “You always bother me, but go ahead.”
An eye twitches in annoyance but you proceed nevertheless, your attention switching from the man to his handwritten notes and back at him.
“Could I ease any of your workload off your shoulders? I just finished my reports for this week and it seems to me that you’ve been slacking.” You deviously smirk at the way he tenses slightly at the thought of being less than ideal. “The president wouldn’t be so pleased with your inefficiency.”
“Thank you for offering, but I’m perfectly fine. You should go home early today if you’re just going to cause more trouble.” He glares at you in annoyance without turning to acknowledge your presence. A childish side eye?! The audacity of this man infuriates you.
Keeping your inner thoughts under wraps, you disguise your retaliation with a playful tone laced with equal irritation. “How about anything to drink? Some chamomile tea from the cafe to calm your insufferable self?”
“Me? Insufferable??” He puts down his pen and turns to you from his seat, finally paying his full attention to you. He stops himself from allowing his sanity to wither away any further, so he takes a deep breath to recalibrate his ideal rationalism. “No thank you,” he says calmly.
A little bit of you breaks inside, though you don’t know why. Why was it that your conversations with him only consisted of backhanded comments resulting in the irritation of one or the other? Why is it that you can only speak to him with words disguised as brick walls? Don’t you want to let him in?
“Oh that’s too bad,” you plaster on a smile and shove the doubt away, “I’ll see you later when you’re buried six feet under by those reports!”
You pack up your things in your suitcase and leave the Armed Detective Agency’s office without another word. The office, full of all its members, stares at the shut door in silence except for Kunikida, who proceeds to clack away on his computer unbothered.
Dazai, whose face is covered by some book about suicide, gets up from his reclined position on his desk and calls to Ranpo for all the office to hear with his hand beckoning for his winnings, “And that’s another point for me! Pay up, Ranpo-kun!!”
“Aw man!” Ranpo, also in a relaxed position on his desk—though more acceptable than Dazai doing it—tosses a 100 yen coin across the room to the suicide enthusiast.
Dazai catches the coin flawlessly and smirks as he flips it in the air, catching it back in his hand.
“You know, it’s not very nice to bet against your own sister,” Ranpo pouts.
“Well, you gotta go where the money is, Ranpo-kun.” The coin’s flips ring through the air.
“Well, you gotta have faith in her!” Ranpo flails his arms in the air, clearly upset by his loss.
“Come on,” Dazai catches the coin one last time to look back at Ranpo, “as the World’s Greatest Detective you should have deducted this would happen again.”
As Dazai and Ranpo’s incessant squabbling continues, each petty comment pushes Kunikida closer to his breaking point. Trying and failing to ignore the ruckus, something other than his pen snaps.
“Dazai!!!” Kunikida stands from his desk looking at his coworker across from him, yells as if the man in question is a kilometer away. “Shut up, stop bothering others, and do your work!”
Unbothered by the normalcy of this certain turn of events, Dazai nonchalantly replies, “Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Kunikida-san.”
Ranpo sticks out his tongue to Dazai in vengeance for the bet he lost. It does not go unnoticed by Kunikida, however.
“And what the hell have you two been betting on for the last three weeks!?”
Dazai spins leisurely around in his chair. “You really don’t see it do you?”
“See what?” Kunikida clicks his tongue. “That you aren’t working? Then yes, I do see that.”
Dazai smacks his forehead with his palm in disappointment. He looks at Kunikida. “Maybe if you didn’t allow yourself to be devoured in your paperwork you would notice the obvious.”
Kunikida shakes his head. “Well, it's obvious you're not working."
Dazai sighs. “Not what I mean, but you do you.”
Kunikida exhales, exasperated from Dazai’s ongoing shenanigans, and returns his focus to his work.
Not even five minutes later, Dazai stands up from his desk, disrupting Kunikida’s focus. “Sorry! Can’t do work right now, I gotta run to the bathroom~”
And with that Dazai dumps his paperwork on Atsushi’s desk—earning a groan from the weretiger—and dashes out the door.
He walks through the Detective Agency’s halls and down the stairs, ignoring the bathroom as he passes. He opens the door to Yokohama’s golden hour, the faint smell of saltwater from the city’s ports greeting him. Though he is able to admire the beauty of his city at this time, he has other pressing matters to attend to.
Dazai spots the cafe’s only customer before himself alone at the booth the Detective Agency always sits at. He approaches softly, footsteps calm, and takes a seat opposite of you.
“Feeling ok, sis?”
You lie the side of your head on the table, rubbing the rim of your empty cup with your index finger absentmindedly. Feeling like you should respond to your brother, you move your head upright to rest your chin on the table. “Goodness gracious, I hate Kunikida Doppo!! He’s so infuriating!! Telling me what to do and not to do all the time…” You trail off, complaining endlessly about your coworker.
When you’re done with the brief rant, you roll your head back to its side. Dazai leans back into the leather seats, still keeping his eyes on you, just waiting patiently as the sun bleeds orange with every centimeter that it dips behind the cityscape.
You have always appreciated how your brother allowed you to have time to sort your thoughts. Though he is cunning, he’s extremely thoughtful. You continue fidgeting with your empty cup.
Many moments of silence pass, and Osamu shares it with you.
“Why does his handwriting have to be so pretty?” You didn’t realize it was your own voice that said it, but you can’t regret telling your brother about it.
He smiles, and moves himself over to sit next to you on your side of the booth. Rubbing your back in soothing circles, he takes careful consideration about his next words.
“I’m sure he’ll realize sooner or later. But if it turns out to be later, I’ll be here.” You turn your head to look at him and he greets your gaze with genuine care. You’re reminded of how lucky you are that he put off his wishes of death to live life with you.
Before long, his brotherly tendencies always find a way to interrupt sibling bonding as he moves his hand up to your head, rubbing your hair messily.
Full of mischief, he adds, “And maybe you should stop acting like a tsundere when you’re around him all the time!! Maybe then he’ll reciprocate your feelings.”
“Hey, I’m not some tsundere! Stop messing up my hair, I worked really hard to make it look good today.” You laugh and playfully fend him off from adding more disorder to your disheveled self.
“You look fine,” he says, putting up his hands in the air to show his intention of playing is gone. “It’s the end of day anyway. Let’s go home, ‘kay?”
Tired, yet still smiling, you find the courage to get up again. “Okay.”
Your brother pays for your bill wordlessly before the two of you depart the cafe together. Holding the door for you, Osamu lets you out first and speaks in a bourgeois accent. “Milady.” Though he is your annoying brother, he always reminds you that he loves you. Most of the time. Sometimes.
You take a step through the threshold of the cafe’s entrance to be met with Yokohama’s dusk—and him. Just a few meters away. Your second step freezes midway and surprise and anxiety turns your face into a scowl.
Shutting the notebook in his hand, standing straight and poised, Kunikida mirrors your countenance.
Unfortunately, the two office rivals had to run into each other after hours—when they least wanted to.
“Why did ya stop all of a sudden—oh!” Osamu peeks over your shoulder (even though he’s taller) and notices immediately what got you frozen in your tracks. Grinning, he already has a scheme up his sleeve.
Osamu waves the blonde over. “Kunikida-san!~”
Kunikida flinches and steps back, hesitation taking over as his name is called by his least favorite person in the Agency. You, on the other hand, glare daggers at your brother, begging him to stop doing whatever he’s thinking of doing.
Kunikida straightens his glasses with a single finger, attempting to compose himself. “So I see that you didn’t go to the bathroom, Dazai.”
“Oh but I got distracted by my lovely sister!” He hugs you, albeit too lovingly and more for show.
The other man sighs. “I suppose that can’t be helped. I’ll be going home now.”
You feel your neck warming from the first half of his response, you try to nervously laugh the feeling away before blurting, “Well, we’re just about to leave as well.” You didn’t have to say anything in response, but your response did keep Kunikida’s attention.
Speed walking away to the opposite direction of your office rival, a tight grip stops you from escaping. Your eyes shoot up to meet Osamu’s and you know he sees the anxiety within you.
“You’re going the wrong way, dear sister.” Osamu smiles innocently. “Did you forget that Agency members share the same dormitory?”
“No!” At this point you’re saying anything to get out of this situation. “I was just thinking that I could get us some groceries for dinner tonight.”
An excuse made on the fly with little to no thought behind it. Osamu knows it too and chuckles at your pathetic attempt to escape from what he has planned next.
Osamu claps his hands together with stars in his eyes. “Oh that’s perfect! Kunikida is also out of groceries.”
Kunikida shoots a glare at Dazai. “Wait a minute!–” he says, startled. “How did you know that… not unless you read–”
“I read your notebook.” Dazai admits, shrugging like it isn’t a big deal. “Your fridge is almost empty and you’re in need of ingredients by today or tomorrow.”
You silently curse at your brother’s plotting, hoping that what you’re thinking will happen next won’t.
“Oh and it turns out that I already have prior arrangements to attend to,” he adds, “so why don’t you two go together?”
Osamu skips away happily and out of Kunikida’s sight, winking at you as if he won the Nobel Peace Prize for you. “Thank me later, sis! <3” he mouths to you before blowing a kiss your way.
If looks could kill, your brother would be buried 10 feet under by the way you yelled for him. “The fuck?! Osamu!!!–”
You didn’t realize you were yelling at him till you noticed Kunikida’s eyes on you in silent agreement for your shared disdain of Dazai Osamu’s actions today. Embarrassed by such an exhibition of behaviors, you promptly look away from Kunikida.
Kunikida sighs. “I guess I’ll go to the store. You can follow if it pleases you.”
Not knowing what to do now that you’re in this situation, you exhale in defeat, replying, “I guess I’ll join you then,” before catching up to walk beside Kunikida.
He walks with such purpose that you wish that you had for yourself. You stare at the notebook in his hand, “Ideal” written on the cover of it. Sometimes you wish that you had Osamu’s own curiosity to take a peek in there. Perhaps there’s something about you…?
No way, you shake the thought out of your head. If anything, Kunikida probably wrote what a troublesome pair the Dazai siblings are. You doubt that he would have written anything nice about you since you express care with comments of care laced with toxicity and actions of malice. You’re just worried that if he catches feelings for you too, he’d eventually find a reason to leave. Just like the others. There’s no harm in giving a reason to leave if you know it’s going to happen sooner or later. But…why? Why is it that you hope for some words of affirmation from others? Perhaps it’s a Dazai family thing where all of you are just as depressed as each other.
Osamu knows it too—he just hides it behind humor out of all things. Suicidal thoughts sprinkled with sugar on top to make it more appetizing? What’s the purpose if everyone is to die anyway?
Perhaps overthinking isn’t listed as “ideal” in Kunikida’s book. He would probably loathe you for it.
Drowning in your thoughts, you don’t realize you’re already in the store until you grab a shopping basket after seeing Kunikida do the same.
The store is relatively empty, the only people other than yourselves being the cashier and a few other customers scattered about.
To be most honest, you don’t know what to make for dinner tonight. Usually you just take a night stroll from the comfort of your bedroom to the nearby convenience store and get a single instant ramen. Maybe a second one if you were hungry or if Osamu begged you for it. No matter, you were in an actual grocery store, not knowing what to do for yourself and wishing that you could flee to the safety of home.
Seeing Kunikida walk to the fresh produce, you refuse to give in to cowardice. Feigning confidence, you follow closely behind and manhandle any and all vegetables that look good, hoping that you can figure out what to do with them later. However, your attention is easily caught by the open pages next to you.
Kunikida’s handwriting, organized and elegant, shows itself as he refers to the shopping list in his notebook.
There’s something about his handwriting that intrigues you. It’s so… neat. Unlike yours which looks like chicken scratch.
Admiration? Probably. But seriously? You hate this man. There’s no way you…admire him–
“What are you even making?”
It was more of a statement of disgust rather than a question. Either way, you flinch at Kunikida’s voice reaching you with an inquisitive look on his face.
He continues, “Because with that plethora of ingredients all I can imagine you making is compost and Dazai hungry.”
Despite the seemingly rude commentary, you raise your eyebrows in surprise at the hint of concern lacing his words. Embarrassment, however, takes over and you reluctantly admit your lack of knowledge in the area. “... I have no idea.”
Kunikida sighs. “Here, let me help you.”
He takes your basket from your hands and you follow him around the produce section as he returns all contents back where they belong before finally stacking the basket where it originally was at the front. He returns to where you both had been and meticulously picks through various vegetables, putting it in his own basket… as if you two were a married couple running errands together!–
“I trust you know how to make ramen?” he asks, snapping you out of whatever trance he just had on you.
“H-huh? Oh yeah, I think I may have done that before…” The hesitation is quite evident in your speech. You inwardly curse at yourself for your unseemly display in front of your office rival.
He looks at you with the same serious countenance. “I’ll take your hesitation as a maybe. Though it sounds closer to no.”
You wince. He sighs.
“It’s okay. You’ll learn.”
Unwilling to admit your lack of household skills, you stay silent and look away from him.
“Come here.” He beckons with a hand for you to come closer. You do.
“You know how to choose the best one since this one…”
For the next half hour, Kunikida explains to you how to select quality amongst the great quantity. You follow him around the store, taking mental notes of the pointers and tips he gives you as he picks up dry noodles, dashi, miso, readymade chashu, carrots, scallions, nori, shiitake, and sesame seeds.
It feels natural as you come up close to him, listening to his comments and chiming in if you have a question for him, as if you two couldn’t hear each other in the practically empty store.
It’s rather comforting. Being next to him like this, doing day to day things such as grocery shopping. Despite yourself you smile and you swear you saw Kunikida enjoying himself as well.
After gathering everything required for tonight’s meal, you walk to the cashier together. You spot Kunikida exchanging his notebook for a wallet in his pocket and you immediately tense up.
“Wait!” You stop his movements and he looks at you confused. “I got it. Let me pay.” You search your pockets for your own wallet. “You took the time to teach me how to get groceries. It’s the least I can do.”
He raises an eyebrow and simply says, “No. I’m getting these for the both of us because you’re clearly not going to know what to do with the groceries once you get home.”
Before you two start a pointless series of bickering over who gets to pay, you two are interrupted by an elderly voice.
“Ah dearie,” the cashier lady says, smiling sweetly, “Let your boyfriend pay for you. It’s ok to let yourself be taken care of by others, it’s the least a man can do for a beautiful lady such as yourself.”
You and Kunikida both become flustered by such an outrageous claim.
Before you can correct the cashier by the time you recollect yourself, Kunikida has already paid and began bagging the groceries without another word.
“Kunikida-san, what are you doing!” You try stopping him but the lady was already holding out a receipt for Kunikida to take.
He takes the receipt and carefully folds it, returning it into his pocket along with his wallet. “Paying for our groceries. What else?” he answers plainly, genuinely confused at the purpose of your question.
The word ‘our’ echoes in your head, as if he’s supporting the old lady’s claim. You end up staring at him dumbfounded.
The cashier sighs nostalgically. “You two are such a cute couple.”
“We’re not!-” you interject and you internally cringe at the informalness you used for your elders.
“Oh you’re already married?” The lady tilts her head. “Young love is so adorable these days.”
“Thank you, ma’am. We’ll be off now.” Kunikida bows his head at the lady.
She nods back in kind and waves. “Have a nice dinner, you two!”
The two of you wave your goodbyes to the lady and you’re thankful if he cut her off on purpose or not, either way, you’ve been saved from any more awkwardness.
You’re greeted with the cool breeze of nighttime, clearing your thoughts. Walking back to the Agency dormitory at this time of day has always been nice. Neither of you mention anything about the cashier’s comments and it’s probably for the best of both of your sanity this late into the day.
You look over to Kunikida at your side as he silently carries the grocery bags, your gaze falling to his hands.
“I can carry the bags if you want.” You reach out.
Immediately, he pulls his hands farther away from you. “I got it.”
“Fine.” You pout in defiance and you swore you heard Kunikida chuckle before turning his head away from you.
Now that you think about it, Kunikida has been implying that he’ll teach you how to cook! A much more appealing option other than your usual instant ramen. He’s in an apron, cooking you breakfast, lunch, and dinner like a dutiful househusband… but totally not yours! However, the audacity to assume you couldn’t make yourself food, though it was slightly true. Your skills were limited to the microwave. Simply put, you come to the conclusion that Kunikida would make a great wife to somebody someday.
Before you know it, the two of you arrive to the dormitory. The familiar scent of home teases your weary mind as you automatically search your abyss of a mess that is your messenger bag for your keys.
“What are you doing?” You were surprised to see that Kunikida was still with you.
“Getting inside my home?” You tilt your head, pointing to your door which leads to your shared dorm room with Osamu.
“Don’t you want dinner?” He unlocks his door, just before your own, and looks to you expectantly.
Not knowing what to do, you just stare at him, dumbfounded. However, the thoughts running in your head tell a different story. All of them freaking out that you’re getting invited into a man’s home. You have always shared living quarters with your brother, but nonetheless his??
“Are you coming in?” he says, eyes averting for a fraction of a second but proceeds to wonder what you’re doing frozen in place.
You shoot him a cold glare, masking whatever flabbergasted face you put on. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
You take a step through the door, his door, and take off your shoes before stepping onto his wooden floors. The layout is quite simple with just the basic items you were once greeted with when you first joined the Agency with Osamu. You reminisce how dead your room used to feel. Just as empty as its inhabitants. Shaking your head free of the past, you drop your bag and take in just how homey Kunikida’s place feels. It’s simple, but well lived in. A bookshelf lines the wall and it smells like him. Comforting.
“‘Don’t tell me what to do’ and she willingly prances into my home.” Kunikida closes the door behind him and takes his own shoes off. He takes out his notebook and phone to put to the side. He doesn’t realize that he rolled his eyes in front of you but you don't let him get away with that.
“Just teach me how to cook this thing and I’ll be out before you know it.”
“Oh then we ought to get started for both of our benefits.” The sassy undertones are not appreciated.
He places the groceries on the kitchen counter and begins prepping.
“Don’t just stand there.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “Start prepping the vegetables while I get the rest ready.”
He dries his hands after washing them and grabs a cutting board and knife, placing them next to him. Looking at you and back to the cutting board, he wordlessly calls you over like a mother and you comply, approaching the board with hesitation. You grab the knife’s handle and inspect it.
It should be as easy as people on TV do it. Just slice and no stabbing. Got it.
Before you could even start cutting, Kunikida’s voice makes you flinch. “What in the world are you doing?!”
He’s next to you, washing the rest of the ingredients in the sink. Knife still in your hand, you wave it in the air. “Cutting vegetables.”
“You’re going to cut more than just vegetables if you hold the knife like a dagger. You’ll hurt yourself—or someone else. This is a kitchen, not a battlefield,” he tsks.
You look at the knife in your hand and playfully point it towards Kunikida, adding more irritation to his nerves. Not knowing what else to say, you blurt, “Oops. Teehee~”
Clearly annoyed, his face becomes slightly pink. “This is not an ‘oopsie daisy’ or ‘teehee’ moment to do so.” He covers his face with a hand in frustration. After rethinking his actions and allowing you to enter the kitchen, he finally adds, “Here, let me teach you.”
He gently grabs the knife from your hands and shows you how to cut the carrots first. He does so very thinly in strips. He leaves a carrot for you and he presents to you how to hold the knife in one hand with the other hand holding the veggie.
“So, you hold the knife in your hand like this with your thumb and index finger on the blade to hold it steady… and your other hand should hold the carrot down with your knuckle guiding the knife.” You didn’t realize how much of a good teacher Kunikida was despite his grumpiness—though it was easy to figure out he was a math instructor a while back. You find it easy to listen and you watch his movements with diligence.
After finishing, he deftly changes his handle on the knife so that the handle is pointing towards you. “Here, now you try.”
Wordlessly, you take it, clumsily trying your best to gain control over the tool and going much slower than Kunikida. You can sense him observing you so intently that your movements become increasingly sloppy.
Becoming too much for his eyes to handle, Kunikida sighs. Disappointedly. “Allow me.”
He suddenly goes behind you and puts his hands over yours, guiding your blade swiftly. His warmth emanates from behind you and you become flustered at the sight of his hands on yours. Deep down, you’re thankful that he can’t see how much your face is heating up.
Kunikida is still in his teacher mode, but you can’t even pay attention to what he’s saying anymore. He’s saying something, but all you hear is his warm breath on your ears. It’s too hard to not let your thoughts wander elsewhere so your eyes dart to all corners of the room in a desperate escape from whatever was happening currently.
“Focus on what’s in front of you.” His voice becomes lower when he notices that you’re not listening. “Distraction doesn’t suit you.”
Shit! Does he not know what he’s doing right now??
Your thoughts are the only thing keeping you from losing all sense of control. If not for that, you don’t know what your body would do next.
Barely bringing yourself back to reality, you click your tongue. “Not my fault.” You turn your head away from him.
From the corner of your eye, you see Kunikida opening his mouth to say something only to close it and blush instead. He immediately moves himself far away from you, most likely finally realizing what he had just done.
You turn to look at him, missing the warmth. You don’t show your longing, so all that shows is a blank face looking up to Kunikida.
“Just… just get to work.” He readjusts his glasses, failing to cover his flustered face. “Don’t forget I’m only helping you so that you don’t fill yourself up with that instant stuff.”
You chuckle a little at his boyish reaction. It’s quite endearing to see such expression especially when he’s always so uptight.
You actually do a decent job finishing off the carrots, green onions, and mushrooms, much to Kunikida’s quiet relief. He busies himself rifling through his cabinets for ramen noodles, some packaged meat—anything to keep his hands occupied and his mind off the earlier awkwardness. From then on, he sticks strictly to his own domain: tending to the broth, preparing the eggs, and watching over the pot as it begins to simmer. The only time he comes close again is to collect the chopped vegetables, his fingers only brushing yours for the briefest moment before he moves away as if nothing happened. You watch as he rolls his sleeves up to his forearms, veins catching the soft kitchen light. Whatever you’re thinking betrayed your attempt at nonchalance. You look away to avoid the thoughts.
When the prep work is done, you glance over at him—his glasses fogged up from the steam rising off the boiling pots, his expression focused. Somehow, the domestic quiet between you feels warmer than the kitchen itself.
“Kunikida-san, I finished cutting everything.” You glance over at him—his glasses fogged up from the steam rising off the boiling pots. Your laughter brings him out of his focused state. “Pfft– Can you even see?”
“No.” he says plainly. At least he’s being honest.
Your laughs descend into small chuckles before you reach out to his face. “Lemme have those…”
“Oi!-” Kunikida becomes flustered that you took his glasses without his knowing, his hands reaching out to retrieve what’s his. However, he stops midway when he sees you actually being quite gentle, rubbing the lenses with the fabric of your shirt.
“All better!” you say after putting it up in the light to make sure it was clear. You then clumsily attempt to put Kunikida’s glasses back on his face, very much missing his left ear and resting crookedly on his hand.
“Hey… it’s not even on correctly.” He readjusts his glasses, eyes darting away as if the gesture could disguise the faint flush rising across his cheeks—the same one that betrays just how aware he is of your hands lingering near his face
Despite himself, he chuckles. Your eyes widen in surprise as something as simple as a laugh could make your heart flutter and you join him.
“You’re so cute when you laugh.” you say, wiping away a tear from the joy you both shared. “You should let loose more often in the office—it’s a lovely sight.”
Kunikida freezes mid-motion, clearly thrown off, before settling for a small, reserved smile. “You’re so troublesome,” he mutters, voice gentler than usual. “Until I can think of something else for you to do, you can rest.”
His sudden kind tone shocks you but you don’t take it for granted. “Thanks, Kunikida-san.”
Happily taking him up on the offer, you sprawl out on the tatami mats with a satisfied sigh. You grab a nearby seat cushion and tuck it beneath your head, your gaze wandering lazily—from Kunikida, to the simple furniture that fills his dorm, then back to him again. The domestic quiet feels heavy but comforting. You wonder if he’ll ever see you the way you do.
Your eyes linger on the steam curling up from the pot, on the steady rhythm of his movements—the quiet clatter of utensils, the soft hum of boiling water. At some point, your thoughts blur around the edges. The next time you blink, there’s a blanket draped over your shoulders that smells faintly like him, and Kunikida is there, placing steaming bowls on the table with quiet care.
“Did you have a good rest?” he asks, voice low but unmistakably gentle.
You rub at your eyes, blinking up at him. “Uh… yeah?” You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep so easily in his home, the warmth spreading through your chest tells you more than words ever could—he must’ve noticed your exhaustion. After all, you both had a long day at work.
“I’m glad,” Kunikida says simply, pushing a napkin, chopsticks, and a soup spoon towards you. “Shall we eat together?”
You push yourself upright, the blanket slipping from your shoulders, and it hits you then—he was the one who had placed it over you. The thought makes you smile, soft and unguarded. “Yeah,” you say quietly.
A united clap echoes through the modest dorm.
“Thank you for the food,” they say in unison, the warmth of the moment lingering longer than the steam rising from their bowls.