you believe your very reserved, reclusive roommate satoru is a peculiar boy whoās far too concerned with how you spend your tuesdays.
ā¹ f!reader ā¹ no curses, roommates au ā¹ pure domestic fluff. lil angst. roomies + dumb-dumbs to lovers. suggestive smut ā¹ 18+ profanity. shy!satoru vs. domestic!satoru vs. good intent, terrible execution!satoru. yujiās innocent and antagonized. heās your favorite, quirky neighbor. mentions of smutty activity, but nothing overtly explicit ā¹ 12.5k ā¹ footnote. throwaway thing, but pls enjoy soft, shy satoru.
ź° šššš ! ź±
having satoru as a roommate doesnāt necessarily cause you any problems in your everyday life, but boy is he a rather peculiar man from time to time.
sharing space with him is an overall easygoing and even enjoyable experience due to his reserved and borderline reclusive nature.
heās quiet, rarely has guests, and doesnāt pester you. heās also quite domestic, which usually indirectly benefits you. his areas are well-kept and consistently clean. he seems to enjoy cooking and from time to time, when youāre gone for the entire day from morning until night, either at work or shuffling through campus, you come home to an extra serving waiting on the stove seemingly just for you even though heās never anywhere in sight.
admittedly, you did eat his extras without permission the first time, but now, he delegates the extras to you.
and he wakes up incredibly early every morning, so with you finally consuming your second meal of the day alone in the dimly lit kitchen at 11:30 pm, it never feels like an appropriate time to thank him.
so, you instead leave a sticky note that reads ā thank you for the food. i ate well! ā on the coffee machine each time, the first place he looks in the morning.
you know this because each morning, promptly at 7:15 am, youāre roused from your slumber by the pleasant aroma of coffee beans brewing and clinging to the air, seeping through all the walls.
itās a habit of his that cultivates comfort, a sense of home.
you donāt even like coffee, but his routine is oddly like an alarm, a signal to your body that the day is beginning and rising with him. shortly after his brew begins, your eyes flutter open, humming contentedly as you take in the scent and stretch the sleep out of your limbs.
satoru is kind enough.
he doesnāt make many demands of you and asks for a reasonable amount to rent out his spare room.
of all the people and places you could have secured last-minute housing for university, youāre quite fortunate to end up with satoru. heās a simple guy, not one for many words, communicating in mostly hums, sighs, and head mechanisms when you actually see him come slinking out of his bedroom or enter quietly from wherever he spends his day.
but despite being mostly pleasant and tolerable, he still has these odd idiosyncrasies that make you quirk a brow at him, utterly perplexed.
firstly, he nitpicks the number of paper towels you use at once.
on one of the rare occasions that you both linger in the common space simultaneously on a day other than tuesday, you wash your hands in front of him.
naturally, like any other person, you grab paper towels to dry them, and you can feel his eyes locked on your side profile as he watches from the dining table.
his eyes, little seas you can drown in, shamelessly bore into you; he analyzes you carefully, judges you.
you meet his eyes slowly, feeling unusually nervous as if youāre being heavily and thoroughly scrutinized. āuhā¦is everything okay?ā
āyou use a lot of sheets of paper towels at once.ā he notes quietly, never tearing his gaze from yours. āitās pretty wasteful.ā
he admittedly didnāt state it with malice, just moderate concern. when he says it, you look down between your palms where a bundle of paper towels are bunched up and on their way to becoming waste indeed.
you can admit that itās more than you actually needed, but itās such an odd thing to want to observe and take note of, such a specific behavior to apply feedback to.
you look back up at him, blinking slowly.
āsorry?ā you offer half-heartedly. āis there a certain amount youād like me to use at a time?ā
you try your damndest not to let the severity of your bubbling agitation show, but you hear it slip in the way you offer him a careless apology and defensively inquire about a solution.
to your dismay, satoru only hums, considering your notion. āideally, paper towels should only be used for spills and messes, as to not permanently stain our cloth towels. considering there are two hundred and eight sheets in total, at an average cost of five dollars per roll, making each sheet worth just under two-point-five cents, itād be objectively more cost-efficient and environmentally friendly if you simplyā¦place a cloth towel there specifically for you to dry your hands with and ensure to include it in your laundry cycle regularly. thatās what i do. itā¦seems like the most reasonable option.ā
āuhā¦huh.ā you say slowly, trying to wrap your mind around why it took a boy who hardly ever speaks so many words to arrive at a very simple conclusion: put a hand towel there instead. āiāll put a towel there. iām sorry for being wasteful.ā
he nods, his hard gaze finally moving back to previous stimuli. āthank you for acknowledging my concern, y/n.ā
in truth, you donāt even get a chance to add a towel. satoru does it himself.
the next time youāre in the kitchen, you notice that satoruās placed an additional hand towel folded carefully and identically right next to his.
the sight causes you to shake your head and laugh very softly, lips tilting up into a grin.Ā
what a peculiar boy.
coupled with his obtuse observational interests is satoruās odd attachment to tiny, mundane instances within his routine.
specifically, everyone coming home on time.
every tuesday you only have a single class in the morning, and you also have a day off from work, so you usually stroll back into the apartment by mid-afternoon.
satoru is never there when you arrive home and you donāt know much about what he does with his time during the day. at most, you know heās already graduated university.
you know he must make decent money, considering his capacity for keeping the entire houseās basic needs met by keeping food on the table, so you know he has to do something during the daytime.
what it is? youāre uncertain, but he always carries a backpack stuffed full, and his laptop is always tucked securely under his arm within a protective sleeve.
satoru is a habitual creature through and through, dancing in the spaces of predictability with perceivable glee.
he arrives back home by 4:30 fairly consistently. by that time, youāre usually engrossed in a book, spread out on the living room floor studying, or curled up on the couch watching dramas whenever he arrives. you never make eye contact or redirect your attention from what itās already fixated on, but you do always absentmindedly greet him the same way each time: āwelcome home.ā he always gives you a small hello and immediately retreats back to his room without another word.
sometime around six oāclock, he emerges from his room and comes to the common space to ask if you want dinner.
tuesday evening is the only occasion during the week youāre able to eat the things he makes fresh, rather than reheating them. and you both sit in an incredibly comforting, idle silence while you eat.
thereās never expectations to entertain one another or engage in meaningless small talk. you compliment his meal, thank him, and tell him you ate well.
itās never a lie. satoru is an exceptional cook.
but on one particular tuesday in question, he comes stumbling into the apartment at 2:45 pm, significantly earlier than usual, and heās in an evident frenzy.
he comes in, kicks his shoes off at the door with little regard [ unlike him ], and moans begrudgingly as he shuffles back toward his room, his defeat loud and palpable.
āwelcomāā the greeting dies on your lips, hearing his long string of audible dread and looking after him as he scurries down the hall. āsatoru?ā you call after him.
you watch his tall figure pause and turn back towards you when he hears you, his ceruleans eyes round and wide with apprehension and fear. āyes?ā
ārough day?ā you ask him softly, trying not to overwhelm him even more. āyouāre home pretty early and you have this distinct look of terror.ā
you try to joke lightheartedly, but he sighs in response, looking down at his feet. āit is a rough day and itās only going to get worse. i donāt know what to do.ā
ādo you need help with something?ā
āiā¦i think so? i have friends coming over. iāve never had anyone over here. i donātā¦do that. iāve never made that much food. i feel like i wonāt be able to get done in time and clean myself up.ā
āyou seem really stressed out about this. how many people are coming?ā
āā¦two,ā he answers sheepishly. ābut additional mouths to feed means more time and honestly, y/n, i donāt have any time. i left work early so i could try to make this happen, but now it means iām going to be behind on the schedule i put together for my project at work and this isā¦itāsā¦itās fucking up my routine. itās stressing me out. iām sorry. iām sorry. i know iām just blubbering and prattling right now.ā
āsatoru,ā you say softly, giving him a sympathetic smile. āitās okay. i get it. i hate when my day gets thrown off, too. iām not doing anything particularly important if you want help with making dinner. are there things you need from the store or anything? i can take care of that while you wash up and relax for a bit.ā
heās quiet for a moment as if he doesnāt know what to say. he just stares at you with an unreadable expression, nods once ā quite curtly ā and turns back toward his room. you donāt take it any kind of way, knowing he often responds pretty similarly.
you figure he just isnāt used to requesting or receiving help, but itās fine. you can and will still do it.
satoru doesnāt realize what a load he takes off your shoulder by providing you with regular meals. in your mind, the least you can do is eat well, be mindful of your paper towel use, and offer helpful hands when applicable.
later when the two of you are prepping dinner and simultaneously trying to make the apartment feel āguest readyā, you keep noticing satoru glancing over at you, but he doesnāt speak. actually, he hardly says anything at all the entire time you work together.
itās such a strange contradiction because he presents himself as shy and reserved because he simply dosenāt speak, but when he does speak, he seems to either talk a mile a minute or be unnecessarily long-winded at an average speed.
there isnāt really an in-between thus far, and youād lived with him for nearly a year.
unable to endure any more of his silent but blatant gazes, you snap your head to him, a little curious and also frustrated. āwhy are you staring at me? did i do something again?ā
āno,ā his head shakes as he blinks, seeming a bit taken aback by your tone. āi wasā¦thinking that iām really grateful that you were willing to help me with this. i donāt have enough time to finish all my work. i donāt have enough time to see my friends or have dinner with them. i donāt have enough time to spend with myself. but iām trying to do it anyway becauseā¦it matters, you know? but i wasā¦having an anxiety attack earlier. i get really stuck on my routines. inconsistencies just make my brain itch. i was feeling really overwhelmed and your offer to go gather the things i needed just so i could shower and breathe for ten minutesā¦meantā¦a lot to me. soā¦thank you. alsoā¦iām sorryā¦for staring. i have this really bad habit of not knowing what to say, so i say nothing orā¦say everything.ā
to his apparent surprise, you giggle, and his eyes widen a bit at the sound.
āyeah, i noticed that about you, actually.ā you place a comforting hand on his shoulder. āno problem. weāve been here together for a while now, yeah? itās only natural that sometimes we need to rely on each other. itās kind of like how you leave me your extras from dinner for when i get home. iā¦otherwise would only eat once a day most days. i move around a lot. i forget about it, and by the time i get home, iām too exhausted to make food. iām grateful for how youāre willing to help me, too.ā
you didnāt expect to see his face flush red and for him to look down as if looking at his feet would make the bright tips of his ears disappear. āyeahā¦no problem. i guess youāre right.ā
āsoā¦what is it that you do for work? whatās so time-consuming that you essentially have no life outside of it?ā you ask.
although youāre curious about his line of work, you ask him about himself for his benefit, so he doesnāt feel embarrassed about feeling flustered after your exchange. youāre starting to figure out that although satoru appears and presents as if his lack of social involvement is a personal preference and choice, being a loner is not a stylistic choice but an inevitable outcome because heās clearly socially inept.
when you guys eat in thick silence, itās not because heās just so comfortable he doesnāt feel the need to speak; he doesnāt know what to say, so he opts for absolutely nothing.
small talk is likely not something heās familiar with or perhaps even cares about. he has to be coaxed out of his fretful foundation just to express that he needs help. he communicates in grunts, nods, and sighs because itās easier than navigating a flow of back and forth in conversation.
āiām a video game designer. iā¦work on actions and movements mostly. like, when characters engage in combat or how they interact with certain parts of the environment in open-world games? iām part of the team that goes behind creating things like that. we give the characters life and motion. itāsā¦pretty cool considering itās been my dream job since i was a teenager, but itās a lot of hard work. weāre working on a really important game right now. it could put our little spot on the map with other big-name game-developing companies like epic games and santa monica studio, so i have to do my best. i canāt let my team down.ā
you hum, impressed. āthatās actually really cool. i kind of figured you were a nerd in some capacity, but youāre a cool nerd with a cool job.ā
he laughs then, light and quiet but saccharine sweet. āi wouldnāt say iām a nerd. i have a deep understanding of my personal interests. it doesnāt make me nerdy. just knowledgeable.ā a nod of agreement.
āno, it doesnāt make you nerdy, but telling someone they use too many paper towels and proceeding to itemize the cost of a single sheet on a whim isā¦not, not nerdy.āĀ you explain, clicking your tongue.
he pouts. āi thought that information was relevant to helping you understand my stance.ā
āi would have understood even if you didnāt explain, satoru. itās your apartment and you buy all the paper towels. itās not wrong for you to, without explanation, tell me to be mindful of my excessive use.ā
satoru looks you over, his expression laden with confusion, lips pursed and eyes just staring at you while blinking blankly. ābut you clearly were bothered by me bringing it up, so thatās why i elaborated like that.ā
āi wasnāt bothered you brought it up. i just thought you were peculiar. and you still have not been able to escape those allegations, by the way. itās alright, though. even if we end up having to indict you for your oddities, iāll still accept you.ā
itās quiet between you both then. satoru seems to have nothing else to offer to the little exchange, and thatās fine with you because when you peek at him again as heās chopping up vegetables, you notice his tiny smile.
and you note that the subtle little smile doesnāt leave him for the entirety of the evening.
you sit quietly on the opposite side of the room,Ā midding ā uninvolved but happily present ā observing him engage with his work friends, suguru and shoko. he seems quite comfortable with them. his speech becomes fluid, easy, and even exciting. you see a little sparkle in his eyes when they talk about games and how suguru is close to finishing is personal passion project. he must love gaming a lot. you wonder if video game development is really the dream or just the dream career, and maybe his real passion is something more novel and less technical.
regardless, you canāt help the sheer feeling of pride that swirls around in your chest seeing him like this: engaged, involved, lively.
it gives you a subtle little smile of your own.
and you note that the subtle little smile doesnāt leave you for the entirety of the evening.
among all other observations, the ultimate characteristic of satoruās that confirms the strength of his idiosyncracies is how heās far too concerned about how you choose to spend your tuesdays.
it starts the week after you help him prepare his tiny dinner party for his friends, the most peculiar aspects of his behavior. itās all because on one particular tuesday in question, you never come home after class.Ā
your friend and co-worker, ari, has a date with a boy sheās been flirting with for a while, so you agree to switch shifts. youāre tired, hanging on by a thread, but you reallly need the extra money for the week.
today in exchange for a day you donāt have class and you can stay home the entire day, a fair and even trade.
[ you work as a waitress at a small restaurant near the university. most students come here between classes on their lunches, so itās a small but heavily populated establishment. when you volunteer to work on busy days, your boss advances you what you make for that day at the end of the night. ]
while cleaning off the table of a guest who just left, you receive repeated text messages, making your brows furrow as your phone shot signal after signal in quick succession. who could possibly be texting you this urgently?
no one ever does.
you glance at the time. 4:32 pm. satoru usually wanders through the door right around now. your brows lift in light shock as you see heās the source of the incessant sounding.
[ 4:32 pm ] satoru:Ā
are you safe? youāre not at home.
itās tuesday. youāre usually home when i get here.
my routine is thrown off.
you roll your eyes reading his messages. heās being hyperbolic and overdramatic, but for what? is it really so important that youāre there just to say two words he hardly acknowledges only to hole up in his room until heās ready to make dinner?Ā
maybe this is his attempt at humor.
you chuckle at the thought of it. satoru is so socially awkward that his jokes donāt even land; they just float in the air, suspended until someone gets it.
[ 4:32 pm ] you:Ā
youāre being incredibly dramatic. iām at work. very alive and well. making money to keep feeding us.
[ 4:34 pm ] satoru:Ā
objectively incorrect. i buy all of our food?
[ 4:40 pm ] satoru:Ā
look. no one was here to welcome me home and now iām back, but donāt feel an ounce of welcome about it.
you laugh at his response, very heartily, right in the middle of a restaurant, inwardly beaming with pride because he made a joke. and it was actually kind of funny. only kind of.
you start to wonder why it matters so much to you if he grows into himself and becomes comfortable enough to speak freely and easily. why do you feel so invested in his character development? regardless, you hope to see him come out of his shell more. itās becoming of him.
[ 4:41 pm ] satoru:Ā
will you make it in time for dinner or another long night?
[ 4:44 pm ] you:
probably not. itās pretty busy and weāre already short-staffed. another long night. aiming to be back by ten tonight. i have homework due at midnight.
[ 4:45 pm ] satoru:Ā
okayā¦understood. godspeed.
work goes by as it does.
itās always the same formula and equation, just different bodies and times of day. you finally come strolling home at 10:05 pm. youāre already tired, but knowing you still have to finish your homework and submit it online is making the exhaustion feel heavier than it probably is.
when you head inside, you expect it to be dark, only the light above the stove left on as per usual, but instead, all of the lights are on, the tv is chattering with excitement, playing some kind of variety show, and thereās a spicy, thick aroma in the air that makes you pause briefly to breathe it in.
itās so pleasant. and warm. you walk in, greeted by a scent that feels like a long embrace.
as you walk through the door, you look to your immediate left where the open layout kitchen is placed, satoru stands next to the stove, chopping vegetables carefully on the counter.
āwelcome home.ā
he announces it casually, just as you always do for him, but does not tear his attention away from his task.
you donāt know what exactly this is, the anomaly in his behaviorial pattern. you arenāt sure what to name the feelings that attach to it, either, but you appreciate it because today you have an anomaly of your own.
you understand it right then: what he means when he says he came back but he didnāt feel welcomed home.
youāre always only ācoming backā but walking in and being welcomed by him, it feels more like ācoming homeā.
you note that there might just be a difference.Ā Ā
your voice is tepid and content when you finlly speak.
āhey, youāre up pretty late.ā he only hums in response. you wander over to him, keeping a good grip on all your belongings. ācooking dinner at this hour? pretty unlike you. huh, your routine really did get messed up.ā
his lips quirk. āyeah, i worked more when i came home instead of eating. iām still catching up from last week. but i noticed i was starving and then i realized it was almost ten. so i figured i might as well just commit to a curve in my routine. butā¦what about yours?ā
his inquiry surprises you a little because heās initiating small talk with you. at first, your lips just part. āmyā¦routine? uhā¦yeah, it got thrown off majorly today. i have an assignment due by midnight. i thought i was going to turn it in by this afternoon, but i got paid in advance for this shift, so that was nice.ā
he stops cutting his carrots then and places the knife down calmly. and then, he just looks at you. it was a very normal look that you could give anyone: stranger, acquaintance, or friend.
it was just a simple look, but for some reason, when his eyes meet yours, your heart starts to pick up its rhythm, and you swear you can hear the thump of it crescendoing in your ears.
heās soā¦handsome.
itās not that youāve never looked at him before. itās not that you arenāt already aware that heās a good-looking man. anyone with eyes and reason can see that. itās just that right now youāre looking at him and he seems like his features have changed, like someone raised the saturation and sharpness of his existence. his jawline seems sharper. his blue eyes seem more potent, gleaming cooly. his lips are supple, pink, pouty, and curved quite romantically.
he looks like a walking beckoning for affection.
his pearly hair is tousled, all in disarray like heās been running his fingers through tirelessly. his clothes seem to cling to the thickness of his frame, outlining the definition of his muscular build.
he quite obviously works out. you didnāt notice that before, the way fabric bulges around his arms and shoulders. his feathery lashes flutter around lapis when he blinks, all that angelic beauty just swirling around. you havenāt looked at him this thoroughly before.
god, heās pretty.Ā
āyou should make sure you respect your resting day routines. you seem to work really hard withā¦everything youāre doing.ā satoruās voice is soft and caring, cradling his own declaration tenderly.
smiling, you nod, swallowing down how flustered suddenly you feel inside, hoping the quickening of your breath doesnāt give it away. āi hear you. it was a one-time thing anyway. nowā¦need help?ā
ādonāt you have homework?ā his voice is perplexed. āgo work on it. iāll call you when iām done.ā
to this, you reject his suggestion with a shake of your head. āno can do. i think iām too tired and will take my loss with grace for the sake of a decent meal before midnight. iāll ask againā¦need help?ā
you donāt say what you really mean right then: i think iād rather spend time in silence with you.
it looks like heās only barely started, likely working on a base for some sort of soup. he has so many scraps laid out everywhere.
satoru clears his throat. āuhā¦yeahā¦yeah, i do.ā
āon it,ā you say resolutely. ālet me put my stuff up and change really quick. itāll only take me five and iāll be back to help.ā
after that, you donāt see satoru for the rest of the week.
tuesday is really the only day your schedules coordinate enough to see each other even in passing.
you donāt miss how disappointment settles in your chest every single time you wander inside at ten or eleven and you donāt see him standing there in the kitchen, back turned to you, nonchalantly welcoming you home.
you donāt miss the way you stop yourself from texting him and telling him exactly what he told you: look. no one is here to welcome me back home and now iām back but donāt feel an ounce of welcome about it.
but on the following monday, you receive a surprising notification.
[ 1:08 pm ] satoru:Ā
i would like to formally request permanent assistance with dinner on tuesday evenings. unless work or other contractual obligations prevent participation. it is much more efficient with two sets of hands. and since we both eat, itās the most ethical and fair.
his formality makes you giggle, as itās so aligned with who you now understand him to be. once again, smiling fondly to yourself, you think of what a peculiar boy he is.
his request at its core is perfectly fair. he does buy all the food and cook it but you both enjoy the fruits of his labor, so if itās a regular thing, you realistically should help him without a single qualm.
thatās the line of reasoning you offer for the sheer speed of your response, agreeing to give away your tuesdays to him: in all fairness.
[ 1:09 pm ] you:Ā
sure thing toru.
you donāt miss the way itās the first time youāve ever called him by or given him any kind of nickname. you donāt miss the way you feel nervous to send it to him, as if being denied casual exchanges with him will have a significant impact on your emotions.
now youāre the one acting peculiarly.
so, for three weeks, on three consecutive tuesdays, you and satoru rally together in the kitchen, pick a recipe to follow, assign your roles, complete your duties, and successfully make meals together around six oāclock.
for three consecutive tuesdays, you sit together at the table and eat well, sometimes in silence, but sometimes in comfortable, slow-paced conversation. the most surprising evolution is the budding presence of his attempts at small talk.
āi donāt know how i feel about this recipe.ā satoru admits after devouring the meat heās made. āi donāt care for this marinade at all.ā
you, mouth full and consumption bordering barbaric, look confused. when you swallow, you have to inquire about why he feels this way. itās quite literally delicious. and you canāt fathom him not liking it considering he ate all of it.
āwhat? you didnāt like it? how? i think itās incredible. probably your best yet. the meat is so, so tender and itās very flavorful but not overwhelming. it goes really well with this little sauce we made!ā
āyou enjoyed it?ā satoru asks you. you notice then that heās biting his lip rather nervously. āor are you only saying that because we spent a considerable amount of time on this one?ā
you grin, rolling your eyes. āwhy would i lie? youāre a good cook, toru. seriouslyā¦iāve never not enjoyed the food youāve cooked. you did really well on the meat. and judging by your happy plate, i think you know that.ā
you figure out quickly that it isnāt that he doesnāt like it, but that he wants someone else to say he did a good job but doesnāt want to ask directly until an opinion is already offered.
he even seeks praise awkwardly. how endearing.
he doesnāt speak, only lowers his head with that subtle little smile youāve come to find yourself craving the sight of.
admittedly, you enjoy this little tradition that the two of you are building. you feel excited for him to come home, eager for him to finish resting up and come out at six, ready to get started, ready to talk to you or just stand by your side. moreover, you really enjoy not eating dinner alone.
you enjoy his proximity even in your settled silence.
it always feels more like home when heās here and you are, too, both parallel or perpendicular to the other.
āthis is nice.ā you tell him warmly. āi kinda like our new tradition.ā
āoh,ā he breathes softly. āiā¦ā
his head rises quickly and he looks at you, those icy eyes youāve grown particularly fond of now slightly widened. you donāt know if youāre just seeing what your own unspoken feelings want to see, but it looks like longing looking back at you. his hand rests on the table and you glance down, only for a fraction of a moment, considering reaching your own out to find the answer to a theory youāve constructed in the last few weeks: you think his hands might be incredibly soft.
āwell, um. iā¦thatāsā¦good to know. i think that maybeā¦um, iā¦ā
[ your mind begs you to let it be known that heās stammering and youāre staring, but your thoughts are ever so slightly somewhere else. ]
you notice when he washes his hands, he pats them dry lightly with his towel. delicate. and he always opens the drawer below immediately after to pull out a tiny bottle of hand cream. every single time. he applies a dollop and rubs it all in gingerly. he makes sure to get all the nooks and crannies of his hands, the dips and the divots. thorough. patient. soft. satin. he seems to care a great deal about his hands, takes good care of them and the things they touch. you lick your lips and look away.
āiām sorryā¦iā¦uhā¦donāt know what to say i think andā¦ā
you cut him off. āis it a mutual understanding?ā
āwhat?ā
ādo youā¦like our little tradition as well?ā a slow, timid, soundless nod. you respond with tilted lips. āthenā¦you can just sayā¦i like it, too.ā
he doesnāt take his eyes off of you, but the look he gives you is becoming a little bit clearer, and you canāt look directly for too long or youāll melt right before him, because gojo satoru turns out to be a lot like the sun, and if you arenāt careful, your heart might try to become like spring and bloom for him.
āiā¦like it, too.ā he says finally.
humming, you turn your attention back towards your food, looking away, and for the first time, being the one with nothing left to say.
all the things you want to say officially teeter off the cusp of amiability and drop straight into a giant vat of arousal.
after a moment, your body becomes so hot you canāt stand just sitting there anymore, so dinner ends abruptly with satoru telling you to leave your dishes and heāll take care of them.
you only nod and offer him a quiet thank you and a friendly goodnight. then you wander off to your room in a daze wondering if he noticed you squirming in your seat.
heās so fucking domestic youāre about to cum off the strength of existing in the same house as him.
and thatās not good. because youāre always in the same house as him.
the things you watch him do in the kitchen, itās all just so homely.
thereās a kind of strength in a man who appreciates homemaking that makes you weak.
telling you to make sure to preheat the oven, putting on his oven mitts to check on the food, setting timers, and tying an apron around his waist. cutting vegetables. using measuring cups. āslice, y/n. no dice. here, let me show you. watch.ā the way his triceps and biceps flex at the motion of his very intentional cuts, the way heās always rolling up his fucking sleeves, even when theyāre short-sleeved shirts like a goddamn tease, basically begging to be turned into a husband and a father overnight.Ā
itās absolutely sickening.
and you officially want him so bad that you want to throw up.
the orgasm you have in your room, stifling the sound of your moans and the sound of you quietly calling out his name when you did, spells it out quite clearly for you even if you donāt want to acknowledge it outright.
itās absolutely sickening.
on thursday, another anomaly occurs in your schedule. a few actually, and all of them are pleasant.
the first anomaly is relaxation.
you donāt have class and since ari keeps up her end of the deal, you have an entire day at home to enjoy your day and your alone time. but, as usual, you wake to the pleasant aroma of coffee. you smile even harder knowing thereās nowhere for you to be so you can move as quickly or as slowly as you like. this means you donāt have to hop out of bed and immediately get ready.
it means that maybe you can go have coffee with satoru before he leaves for the day. you donāt even like coffeeā¦but you like him. and thatās more than enough reason to get you out of bed, tidy yourself a bit, and go sauntering out of your room to ask for a cup of hot liquid youāll never consume.
youāre more of a tea or hot chocolate kind of girl, but thereās a first time for everything, and maybe having coffee will taste better if drinking it means spending even a fractal of time with him.
this initiates the occurrence of the next anomaly.
āgood morning,ā you say pleasantly.
a yelp. a jolt. a wince and a hiss.
a āfuck, fuck, fuckā.
Ā
a resounding crash.
the sound of shattered ceramic.
he clearly isnāt expecting you to be up or to greet him. you wince at the sound of glass and lean over to see that heās dropped and broken the mug he was holding: your mug. your favorite one. the one your grandmother made for you with her own two hands.
thereās coffee pooling everywhere, all over the floor, and satoru moans dreadfully.
āshit!ā he exclaims. āyou scared the bejeezus out of me. iām so, so sorry. i didnāt meanā¦i didnāt mean to break it. iām sorry, y/n. i really am.ā
the mug means the world to you, as your grandmother is much older now and unable to make little crafts for you like this anymore. itās the only one of its kind. the only one that would ever be. and now itās in pieces on the kitchen floor, a little sea of java surrounding the sad, jagged portions of loving sentiment.
āiām sorry i scared you.ā you say softly, trying hard not to cry. you donāt want to make him feel bad. you donāt want him to feel bad at all. āitās okay, toru. itās okay. iāll get towels.ā
once you grab towels and come back to help him clean it up, heās deep in a spell of unnerved groaning, just a long, drawn-out whine that goes on under his breath for a while.
āplease donāt be upset.ā he pleads, frowning. āiām so, so sorry.ā
you smile softly, shaking your head. āiām not upset, toru. are you hurt at all? from the coffee? i heard you hiss.ā
āiām okay. it splashed on me, but it didnāt burn me or anything.ā
you place the two large towels down to soak up all the liquid on the ground. satoru focuses on picking up each piece of the broken mug. as you watch him through the top of your eyes, you wonder just why heās using your mug to begin with.
āiām not used to you being awake so early.ā he admits, slightly embarrassed of how a simple good morning resulted in this. ābutā¦good morning to you, too.ā
you just canāt help it. you giggle. peculiar boy.
āif you wantā¦youā¦you can pick one of my mugs to take in its place.ā he offers, biting his lip.
you nod and say okay for a few reasons: 1. you absolutely want something of his and that is a microscopic guilty desire you have. 2. he seems like itāll bother him a lot if he canāt rectify the situation in some way. you saying itās okay doesnāt appear to suffice. 3. see reasons 1 & 2. then combine them.
as heās showing you his plethora of available mugs, you catch yourself smiling becauseā¦he has all of these mugs of his own, butā¦he was drinking his morning coffee out of yours.
you survey them all and find this one white, ceramic mug that says ācreateā on it. itās oddly shaped, looking nearly homemade. irregular. odd. itās the most satoru mug of them all. thatās the one you want. you point to it.
āiāll take that one.ā you tell him.
for a brief moment, he hesitates, pouting cutely, but his lips slowly become tilted upward.Ā āof course you will. that oneās my favorite. i made it in my high school art class, butā¦okay. okay. a mug for a mug. you can keep it. drink your coffee out of it wellā¦and frequentlyā¦or it might start to feel neglected. itās an extroverted kind of mug.ā
if you knew it wouldnāt result in one of the most blatant forms of rejection youāll ever face, because satoru is nothing if not brutally honest, you would have kissed him right then. you really would have.
but, instead, youāll take the mug and use it well just as he asks, and maybe heāll try to sneak in a hidden smile by just tilting the corner of his lips, and maybe youāll spot his dimple because of it, and maybe the sight of it will make your heart flutter and breath hitch, and maybe it (in its own way) could be just as good as a kiss.
a homemade mug for a homemade mug. youāll keep it indeed.
āwant to have coffee before you leave for work?ā you ask, even knowing well that youāll be wasting perfectly good coffee, even knowing how upset heāll be if he knows.
but it feels worth it when he nods, offering you that coy smile you find yourself anticipating nowadays. and you both do, in total silence, sit at the table over a cup of coffee, stealing glances every now and then. when he asks why you havenāt touched your coffee, you lie and say you prefer it with creamer, to which he turns his nose up in disgust.
ācreamer is a forbidden substance in this house.ā he informs you. ābutā¦ifā¦if it really is a dealbreaker for your coffee enjoyment, iāll make sure to get you some. what kind do you like?ā
the next time you go grocery shopping for us, honey? why donāt you just ask me to pop the question right now?
you donāt care for coffee. you donāt care for creamer, but you care very, very dearly about the prospect of satoru getting any kind of special thing for you, with you in mind, with the purpose of making an experience better for you.
[ you know plenty of special things he can give you to make the experience better. and it didnāt even cost money. and he can use his perfect hands as much as he likes. ]
āhazelnut,ā you lie with a smile. āthatās my favorite.ā
the third anomaly occurs much later in the day when youāre home alone and youāre lounging in the living room, wondering if thursday will get to be a second tuesday with satoru since youāll both be home.
unexpectedly, thereās a knock at the door. your brows furrow. you didnāt order any food. you didnāt expect a delivery. satoru always tells you if anyone is dropping by.
when you walk up to the door, peeping out of the hole, you see a remarkably handsome man standing on the other side.
you open the door carefully, revealing a boy, likely around your age, with soft pink, shaggy hair, and a smile on his face that seems like it might melt anything in sight that just so happens to perceive it. he has little dimples on his cheeks when he smiles.
he, much like satoru, is very pretty.
āhiā¦can iā¦help you?ā you ask timidly, not fully coming outside the door, head and a portion of your torso poking out.
he might be attractive, but heās still a stranger.
he scratches the back of his head. āohā¦uh, hi!ā¦my name is yuji? i just moved into that unit about a week ago.ā he explains, jerking a thumb back towards his front door, #1103r, right across from you and satoruās #1104r. your brows lift in sheer surprise.
āoh! i didnāt even know the unit was empty.ā you laugh. āwelcome to the complexā¦and the hall. itās fairly quiet, so i hope you arenāt a partier.ā
laughing, he shakes his head. āa baker, not a partier. i spend my spare time making sweet treats. you might smell me baking a lot, though. iā¦uhā¦i actually was coming to ask if you had butter? or margarine? iāve started making cupcakes, but i didnāt get butter at the store, and i didnāt want to leave out to the storeā¦because i already started. so, i figured i could come to introduce myselfā¦and ask a neighborly favor?ā he puts his hands together in a small plea.
wow, the boys in this building really do enjoy wholesome activities.
smiling, you nod. āsure, give me a second, iāll be right back.ā when you come back to the door with an entire package of butter, he smiles wide, making his eyes crinkle. āi hope thatāll be enough.ā
āmore than, iāll bring back what i donāt use.ā he promises. āah, youāre a lifesaver. thanks!ā
āhappy to help. welcome to the building, yuji.ā now, the exchange should be complete but heās still just standing there. āwellā¦if thatās allā¦ā
āwhat was your name? did you already tell me?ā he asks suddenly, confused. āsorry, i wanted to say your name, too, because it seems respectful since you said my name, but i was trying to rack my brain for what you said your name wasā¦ā
āi didnāt.ā you clarify, chuckling at his spaciness. āitās y/n.ā
āy/n. hm, i like it. it suits you somehow. anyway, thanks, y/n the neighbor. yuji the baker will see you again soon to return his butter hostage and maybe offer a treat forged of his deepest gratitude.ā a lopsided grin and a wink.
when he leaves, you close the door and just stand there for a moment recalling the entire exchange. heās handsome, a bit spacey, but so friendlyā¦so friendly he was flirty. youāll never complain about having eye candy for a neighbor, butā¦you donāt want satoru to get the wrong ideaā¦if he starts talking to you moreā¦
you quickly shake the thought away, reminding yourself to return to reality from the depth of your personal delusion. satoru is not interested in you in that way by any means. he, at most, wants to become friends, which is understandable for a person heāll be living with for an additional year. thatās fair. you want to be friends, too.
you just also want him to talk you through his day while heās fingering you, thatās all.
the next anomaly occurs at five pm when satoru come home much later than he usually does. for him, thirty minutes late is a lot. it throws off his routine.
āwelcome home.ā you say casually as he strolls in.
you try your best to appear as if youāre as unfazed as ever about his entry. you try not to make it disgustingly obvious that you arenāt just there relaxing anymore; youāre waiting. for him to come home. to welcome him back. this time, though, he doesnāt respond curtly as he ducks back towards his room. you hear the rustling of plastic bags as he sets them down on the dining table. he then waltzes over to you and lays a palm flat on the crown of your head.
āhey,ā he breathes.
in movies or dramas, this is the moment where your world freezes, just becoming so petrified that even time doesnāt dare to move. you gulp hard, your heart racing even more so than it initially did in anticipation. what are you supposed to do?
ādid youā¦enjoy your day off?ā he asks. ādid you rest enough?ā
āum...ā your voice trails, mind still entranced by his hand resting on top of your hand. itās such a gentle gesture, so soft and timid, like him. such a well-suited affection for his kind of temperament. āi hadā¦a relaxing day. it was nice.ā
you manage to speak, but you stare ahead toward the door, not bold enough to look at the face heās making while he touches you. he finally lowers his hand and inside, youāre screaming about it, protesting profusely to the removal of his closeness.
āwhat about you? was work okay?ā you ask, breathing returning to normal as he heads back to the dining table to un-bag his things. the first thing he takes out is a little bottle of hazelnut creamer, and your heart is so warm you think itās become nothing but a puddle of adoring liquid.
āwork was less stressful. weāre close to done with this project, so now thereās not as much silence in the office. everyone is slowly starting to act like real people again. it was driving me insane. when intense projects happen, it disrupts my routine so much. people stop saying good morning. i donāt feel comfortable saying anything more than i already donāt. and i think the secretary hates me because i kept messing up my report and printing it incorrectly. it created unnecessary work for her and it wasted a lot of paper. i made sure to pick some up while i was at the store to replace it, butā¦ā he stops suddenly and frowns. āsorry, i just realized i was rambling again.ā
you canāt hide your loving smile even if you bother trying. āyouāre talking about your day. thereās nothing wrong with that, especially if the person youāre talking to wants to know all the seemingly useless details.ā
satoru has this habit of just peering at you at times when you respond to his long-windedness with openness to experience. and boy were you dangerously open to experiencing him.
āandā¦do youā¦?ā he asks you slowly, his head tilting to the side. āā¦want to hear even the unimportant details?ā
you shrug casually and nod once. you decide on an endearing response with a touch of humor to soften the landing for your heart as itās doing its somersaults. āi donāt mind hearing about your day in great detailā¦itās like listening to an audiobook for free.ā
he rolls his eyes, lips quirking. āyouā¦ā a soft shake of the head. āanyway, whatād you do today? stay on the couch engrossed in your dramas?ā
āi cleaned up a bit, did some homework, met our new neighbor, and binged on a drama, yes.ā
his brows furrow. āwe didnāt already have a neighbor?ā
āthatās what i said! i didnāt know the unit across the hall was empty, but he came by to ask if he could have some butter and introduce himself.ā
satoruās face scrunches up, slightly disgusted and confused. ābutter? likeā¦to just eat?ā
ātoru, what?ā you ask laughing. āno, dummy. heās a baker. he started making cupcakes and realized he didnāt have any. he said heād bring back the excess.ā
again, a repulsed display of emotion. āy/n, i donāt want any food back after itās left this flat. there are all kinds of new germs and particles on it now. why would i consume that or allow you to? what kind of person do you take me for? god only knows what he does in that unit. and if he double dips? if he sticks his fingers in his mouth and touches the container without washing his hands? ew. thereās no way for us to even verify. the number of available and unfavorable possibilities is disgusting in itself. and bakers seem like the ālick their fingers cleanā type, soā¦he can keep the butter. iāll get us more.ā
you purse your lips together, clasping them shut to keep your amused smile from showing how endearing you find him to be and also to keep from laughing at his sheer seriousness, at how comical all his particularities are but adorable in the same breath. peculiar as ever.
āokay, if he tries to return it, iāll reject it.ā
āthat would be best.ā he nods curtly. āiām making dinner in a little whileā¦do youā¦want to help me? or will it throw your relaxation routine off?ā
you snort. ātoru, i donāt have a relaxation routine. the relaxation is disrupting the routine in a good way. but yesā¦what are we making?ā
and there it is again, that little smile that makes you want to clutch at your chest.
thatās the final anomaly. making dinner with satoru. having a second tuesday is another wonderful disruption to the routine.
the following tuesday, youāre giddy as you head home from class. you arenāt sure what moment does it for you, but youāve settled comfortably into the fact that you like satoru, that given the opportunity, youāll peel back every single layer of his existence to taste and lick and know every part of him.
it doesnāt bother you to be just friends and roommates with him, though. you guys live together. even if something comes of it, if it goes south, itāll really destroy the living dynamic you guys have cultivated, which is quite comfortable. gentle. tender. homely.
besides, he reserves special kinds of platonic affections for you that suffice.
as you approach the building, you see your neighbor, yuji, struggling to balance a tall stack of white, flat boxes while he tries to open the door to the building. you jog up and hold it open for him to help.
āah, thank you, y/n the neighbor.ā he says graciously. āsaving me yet again.ā
yuji is nice enough but he seems to be quirky in his own way. youāre starting to wonder if itās a prerequisite for being accepted for housing in this place.
as it stands, though, tensions are high between your household and his.
when he returned the butter, yuji was immensely offended by satoru's suggestion that he ātainted the butter with his bakerās breathā and demanded that he take back the butter, to which satoru's lip curled up in disgust as he emphasized that he especially didnāt want it then.
it ended with yuji leaving the butter by the door and sitting it on the ground, both oddballs unwilling to claim the absurdity.
you ended up picking it up and throwing it away.
while it was a comical event all around, seeing the two of them standing in the doorway trading glares over the sanitation of butter was one of the strangest, oddest, most random things youāve witnessed.
ādo you need help, yuji?ā you ask laughing. āyou look like youāre one, fragile step away from it all crumbling down.ā
he sighs. āif you donāt mind and it wonāt taint your precious hands to touch my bakerās boxes, then yes, you may help me.ā
āfor the record, i have absolutely no stock or stance in the butter sanitation conundrum. i am but an innocent bystander. so, no, your bakerās boxes arenāt at risk of tainting my hands.ā you roll your eyes at him. āyouāre really dramatic, you know.ā
ācriticizing me is not helpful.ā he notes. āand iām not certain, but i thought you asked to help.ā
āfine,ā you grumble, grabbing a stack of the boxes out of his hands. āwhatās all this for anyway?ā
he smiles triumphantly. āi got my first big gig as a freelance baker. iām making fifty spiderman cupcakes for a five-year-oldās birthday party tomorrow.ā
āwow, thatās really cool. congrats on that one. are you excited?ā
āexcitedā¦is certainly a word. maybe not one iād use to describe this, but a word nonetheless. if you canāt tell by the thick layer of perspiration and sweat gathering on my forehead, everything is great and not stressful at all.ā
you pout, oddly concerned for his results. āare you going to be able to pull it off?ā
āwell, the thing is thatā¦no?āĀ he laughs and so do you. āmy friend megumi was supposed to be my helper so i could pull it off, but apparently chasing skirts is more important than making and icing cupcakes for a childās birthday party. i wouldnāt know since i respect the brotherly code of conduct and would never, but it is what is. i hope he gets laid.ā
you nod. āme tooā¦but i hope he has a hard time performing. he shouldnāt have bailed on you. this seemsā¦important to you.ā
āah, y/n the neighbor is observant, yuji notes.ā he narrates himself in the third person. āit is pretty important to me. butā¦just to me.ā
that upset you deeply. you know what itās like to have your dream not be taken seriously. all this time, youāve been in school for anthropology.
no one really sees the benefit or believes in what you want to do, which is why youāre basically out here trying to prove your entire family wrong, that youāre capable of developing a strong, steady life without meeting their endless expectations. you hate the idea that yuji is clearly very passionate about baking, about doing this kind of custom work, but his friends arenāt supporting him, and now heās scrambling.
ādo you have to be a talented baker to be a bakerās assistant?ā you ask biting your lip.
his eyes twinkle. ānot at all! you just need two hands and a decent enough ability to follow a series of simple directions.ā
nodding resolutely, you smile. āthen consider me self-appointed as the bakerās elf. letās go get these cupcakes made, yuji the baker.ā to this, he beams.
āy/n the neighbor is starting to seem a bit like a friendly neighborhood spiderman herself.ā
making cupcakes from scratch is no fucking joke.
thereās so many steps. it really is a series of simple directions, but if those simple directions are off even by a little, it ruins the batch and you have to start again. you didnāt realize how time-consuming it would be. in fact, you didnāt really keep up with the time, but when you catch a glimpse of it on his television, itās already eight āo clock, and your eyes widen.
āshit! i need to go to my apartment.ā you tell him urgently. āare you okay from here or should i come back?ā
yuji shakes his head smiling. āyouāve done so much. i just need to finish working on these last fifteen. i got it. thank you so much, y/n. you didnāt have to help but you did. it means a lot.ā
āno problem, but next time, i expect to take home one of my own.ā
he laughs. ānext time?ā
āyuji the baker seems to need help a lot.ā you say with a shrug before ducking out quickly. āsee you later!ā
even though youāre only across the hall, you feel like youāre going to walk in and be in an insane amount of trouble. you havenāt even bothered looking at your phone. when you walk in, satoru is sitting on the couch, but his head snaps up to you immediately.
āyouāre okay!ā he says, relief evident in his voice as he stands to his feet. āwhere have you been? i hadnāt heard from you in hours and i got really worried about you.ā
he walks over to you but keeps a small distance between your bodies, looking you over for any sign of harm. your entire face heats up. you feel yourself shrinking in as you take a breath.
āsorry,ā you say, looking down at your feet. āi was across the hall. i was helping yuji wiāā
he cuts you off, brows knitting together, lips in a frustrated pout. āthe unsanitary baker? why?ā
āif you would let me finishā¦ā you snap, giving him a hard look. āhis friend bailed on helping him and he got his first big order as a freelance baker. i was home so i helped. i was really busy so i wasnāt keeping track of time well. you wouldnāt believe how hard it is it make cupcakes from scratch.ā an exasperated sigh leaves your lips just recounting the last few hours mentally.
heās not looking at you anymore when he speaks next.
āyou baked cupcakes with him?ā he asked. ālikeā¦you baked them together?ā
you feel confused but nod. āā¦yes? thatās what āhelpingā would entail in this situation. he was stressed and i felt bad because i know what itās like for no one to truly believe in you.ā
āfine,ā he spits, lips set in a hard line. āi hope it got done. dinnerās on the stove.ā he walks past you toward the hallway then, his back turned. āand please wash your hands before you touch anything.ā
thenā¦he just walks straight to his room without another word, leaving you feeling perplexed by his response.
his bedroom door closes a little harder than usual and you fear you may have made a grave mistake by hanging out with yuji, especially when itās abundantly clear upon their first interaction that theyāre unlikely to get along well. so, maybe he feels like bailing on cooking to hang out with yuji and not even letting him know is a jerk move and god, you agree.
since that event, the rest of the week is very awkward.
even though you donāt see each other often on weekdays already, you have this inkling that satoruās avoiding you at all costs. he even stops making his coffee; he just slips out into the early morning. you wake up close to ten am, very late, for every day it occurs.
an obnoxious disruption in your routine, and he doesnāt make dinner at all. you go to bed pouting and hungry.
but another anomaly occurs when tuesday rolls around again: you wake to find that your class has been canceled. ever the diligent student, you check your emails daily. when you finally get around to grabbing your phone in the morning, itās the first thing you do.
to your surprise, the one class you have is canceled due to the professor being ill. you take great pleasure in this beautiful disruption because the regular routine within the home is now also back in motion and you wake to the heavenly scent of colombian.
you wander out into the living room. satoru leans back against the marble counter, sipping quietly from a dark-colored mug.
āgood morning,ā you announce quietly, making sure not to frighten him.
his eyes dart to your presence, and you just pause where you are, unsure if proceeding any closer is safe.
āmorning,ā a short and dull response. āyouāre up early.ā
you shake your head, playing with your hands nervously. āiām always up this early. the smell of your coffee wakes me up every morning. i just usually stay in my room and get ready.ā
āoh,ā his voice is small. after a long pause, he asks, āis it bothersome?ā
to answer, you smile lazily and offer another small head shake. ānot at all. itās actually my favorite alarm. very quiet and very pleasant. iāve been waking up late the last week nearly. my routineā¦is thrown off.ā
with all the gall in the world, he scoffs. āsince when do you care about keeping a routine?ā
āwhat?ā you ask softly, voice slightly wounded and face fluttering into confusion. āwhat do you mean?ā
āyou skipped out on our routine last week and that didnāt seem to matter to you at all.ā he states simply. your guilty eyes look at your nervously shuffling feet. āso, what is it? why did you hang out with him and bake with him?ā
youāre not sure if itās the irritated tone heās now choosing to take with you or the underlying insinuation that you, a grown woman, owe him a reasonable explanation for why you exert autonomy and choose to help others. as if you did something morally reprehensible by helping yuji.
youāre not even certain satoru is actually, fully angry that you bailed so much as heās angry about who you were with and what you were doing instead, which is still unfathomable why itās his business.
yes, you should have let him know and you can own that because you know he probably waited a while for you to show back up and you never did, but youāre not going to stand here and let him reprimand you for hanging out at your neighborās unit just because heās decided he doesnāt like him for quite literally no real reason at all.
āum, are you my father?ā you ask, your face scrunching up in frustration. āheās our new neighbor, satoru. he needed help. iām just being kind, and i like hanging out with him. heās funny anāā
he cuts you off. āyou like hanging out with him?ā
āyesā¦?ā
itās silent between the two of you then, his eyes going blank and glossy. āwhy? whatās so special about his place? why would you prefer spending tuesday there?ā
youāre genuinely appalled by his response.
you expect he may not like the idea of you hanging out with someone he dislikes, but heās not your parent or your partner, and heās only become a friend recently. the way you feel like youāre being forced to justify your very simple, very innocent actions of helping yuji is absolutely unacceptable because no matter how many times you say it, telling satoru you did it because yuji needed help and it was important for him to have it is not a sufficient explanation for him.
but itās the truth and it not being enough for him is not necessarily your burden to bear.
āsatoru, i donāt owe you an explanation as to why i had a good time hanging out with him and helping him make cupcakes so his first, real order can lead to more. i donāt have to explain anything i choose to do with anyone. i donāt owe you or your ego elaboration.ā
āwellā¦ā his voice trails and heās quiet for a minute as his skin slowly reddens and he nervously bites his lower lip. when he looks at you again and speaks, his voice is incredibly soft, unbearably wounded, and pained. āi want an explanation anyway. because i thought you liked spending your tuesday nights with me, but you went over there instead of staying to see me and make dinner together.Ā and you didnāt even tell me. just left me waiting on you. whatās that about?ā
the sheer shock and confusion of his confession must be evident on your face. you feel your mouth part as if you want to speak but you donāt. your brows knit together, trying to make sense of his stance so you can properly answer his question. your heart is already racing becauseā¦it seems satoru may have developed feelings of his ownā¦toward you.
āwaitā¦waitā¦ā your voice trails, youāre still looking up, eyes blinking rapidly and narrowing, not in a sinister way but dubious, because as it stands, your current theory that he may have feelings for you, too, is truly unfounded and is permeated by perplexity. āisā¦is that why youāre upset?ā you ask him. ābecause i ended up helping him and missing one tuesday with you?ā
he sighs and nods, frustration exuding in his body language as if you stated the utter obvious simply to upset him. āyou told me you liked our little tradition to cook together, but then picked another guy to make food with the very next week? an unsanitary one at that? andā¦andā¦you know what? i want to do that with you. making dinner isnāt fun on my own. not on tuesdays. not if youāre not here with me, and especially not if youāre not here because youāre over there and want to be there more than you want to be here. with me.ā
your question comes out suddenly with your tone layered in urgency. āsatoruā¦do you like me?ā
he just stares at you, mouth slightly agape, looking as if youāve asked a stupid question yet again. as if he were soundlessly asking āyouāre not serious, right?ā
his next comment confirms your intuition and also attests to your ability to read his expressions now.
āy/n, are you seriously asking me that? are you oblivious? after all this time? as if it wasnāt completely obvious that i do.ā
you snort. āsatoru, if you liked me all this time, it was absolutely, undeniably, irrevocably not obvious.ā
āi gave you a hand towel that matches mine and placed them next to each other.ā he details with a flat voice and a roll of his eyes.
you look at him, growing progressively more flabbergasted by his position in the ongoing argument. he lives in a delusional mental world where he thinks his feelings, in all their silent conquest, will be thoroughly known and understood. even though youāve never spoken to him about anything of the sort.
āsatoruā¦you do realize you criticized me for the number of paper towels i used, right? i thought you wereĀ justā¦solving the problem you created.ā
he has the audacity to groan. āiāve made dinner for you to eat when you come home since the first time you left me a sticky note apologizing for eating my extras.ā
āyes, because you always make excess. thatās what you said!ā
you huff, arms folding over your chest. he canāt seriously believe he has a little avalanche of decent examples of his āliking youā being obvious. thereās just no way. he would have to be completely disregarding every other aspect of objective reality except his own thoughts and perception in order to come to the conclusion that placing a hand towel on a bar or letting you have the extra food he makes regardless are his attempts to court you. as if.
āi got upset when you filled in for a coworker on a tuesday instead of coming home and i was only distressed because you werenāt here to tell me welcome home. i told you i didnāt feel welcomed without it!ā
now his voice is raising, aghast and disbelieving.
you shrug, just staring at him with flat affect and dawning freshly picked neutrality. āi thought you were joking and finally developing a sense of humor. i was proud of you.ā
a squeak. heās watching all his ridiculous reasonings be debunked and he just continues trailing down the list of them, much to your dismay. because if heād just shut up for a moment, you can get off the topic of what would have made it obvious and move on to something way more important, much more impactful.
is he going to kiss you soon or what? so peculiar. heād rather argue you down than take his shot with you and watch himself hit a bullseye.
āi gave you my special mug to keep for your own because you said you wanted it.ā another eye roll.
āyou broke my own special mug and told me to pick the one i wanted! i thought it was an eye for an eye. a mug for a mug!ā
he gestures towards the refrigerator. āi brought creamer, a banned substance, into this apartment for you.ā
āitās creamer, satoru, not a confession. please be serious.ā
this time, his voice is small and sheepish. āi started giving youā¦head pats.ā
you canāt refute the intimacy of that one. you know it. he knows it. the smug smirk on his face not only knows it but is gloating about it. āfine, you got me there, but that still isnāt enough to infer romantic interest.ā
āy/n, i blatantly asked you to make it a permanent date with me to make dinner together on tuesdays. how much more obvious do i need to be?ā
you furiously shake your head, protesting his claim. āyou formally requested assistance with dinner on tuesdays. the word date was not aforementioned. you made it seem mandatory. in fact, you said it was only fair.ā
now, heās blushing furiously, the tips of his ears going red.
āitās not mandatory, per se. itās just the principle. and even still, you say that as a counter, yet you went over to his place instead of coming home to be with meā¦doing the cooking we agreed on and mutually enjoyed.ā
you scoff. ābut itās not mandatory to cook?ā
āwell cooking isnāt mandatory, but it is mandatory that you genuinely like me back if weāre going to be doing domestic things like making meals to eat together. consistently. and openly. so when you do it with me for weeks and tell me entirely unprovoked that you like doing it with me, it gives the impression you want to be domestic with me. i only spend time at home, so i take that very seriously. i was starting to feel played with.ā
you wonāt lie. all of his nonsense is just that: nonsense.
but the idea that you left him feeling like you were giving mixed signals or like you were stringing him along for the fun of it deeply wounds you inside, because you also like him a hell of a lot.
you would never go off and be intentionally confusing.
āi wish you had said it clearly. we would have been on the same page a long time ago probably. i wouldnāt be spending a single tuesday there if i knew why you wanted me here.ā
āi genuinely donāt understand how you didnāt notice.ā he grumbles.
āi genuinely donāt understand how you could possibly think i would?ā you counter, the statement falling from your lips like a question that requires clarification.
he steps closer to you, and for the first time, you see something new in his eyes: determination, passion, need, and desire.
your breath catches in your throat when one hand goes to your waist, tugging you closer to him, the other cupping your cheek.
your heart.
thatās all you can hear is your heart thumping wildly in your chest as if it might combust.
āhow is this for being crystal clear? y/n, i like making dinner for you and with you. i like that our hand towels are matching and next to each other. i like that the smell of my coffee wakes you up in the morningā¦i want to be the one that wakes you up in the mornings. soā¦with that being said, itās tuesday and i want to make dinner with you tonight. if you want to make dinner with me, understand that youāre consenting to complete romantic affiliation.ā
āunderstood,ā
it comes out with no hesitation, your eyes glancing between his baby blues and his pretty, tinted lips begging and beckoning.
āso, youāll make dinner with me and consent to romantic affiliation?ā he confirms, a lopsided grin forming. his choice of words begs a chuckle from you.
grinning, you nod. ātoru, are you seriously asking me that? are you oblivious?ā
ācan i kiss you now? iāve been dying to for the last month, admittedly.ā
you pout, feigning a great deal of disappointment and concern. āif you donāt know the answer, then maybe i really should go back across the hallā¦ā
his grip on your waist tightens, a soft thumb caressing your cheek and thereās that subtle smile you adore. āweāre definitely kissing because you have to be quiet. like right now.ā
you laugh. āwow. that one was actually really funny.ā
āwhat?ā he asks, thrown by your response.
āoh nothing,ā you sing. ācāmere, you.ā
smiling at your urge to draw him in, he leans down then, no longer willing to waste time being idle with you or just staring into each other until you canāt take it. when his lips touch yours, the only thing you can think about is how soft they are, how smooth, silk against velvet.
all you can think about is how gently he keeps you against his torso, how shyly his lips move with yours like he just wants to test you out and know how you feel, like his lips have more to offer, but much like his conversational skill, youāll have to coax him out of his timidity.
when you both pull apart, you reach your hand up to touch his, tugging very gently on his fingers. he obliges your silent request for his hand just watching you with an enamored gaze, moving his palm from your face and allowing you to tangle your hands together.
you officially love his hands very much. you felt his hand on your cheek and now you feel it wrapped around every space of your fingers.
the most peculiar thing of all about satoru seems to be just how correct your theory is: his hands are like fucking satin, and they take immaculate care of anything theyāre tasked with touching.
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