@gousessive
for the fifth time since he arrived, haru checks his cell phone, ignoring the chill brushing his shoulder. 10:18 am. forty-seven minutes have passed, he’s seventh in line, and there are no new messages.
he shuts the screen off; it looks like makoto won't be able to make it after all. but haru expected this. he predicted there wouldn't be a text, and without another thought, he shoves his phone back in his quilted pocket. maybe for haru, this is all a little unconventional. joining the waves of couples and high schoolers that bunch outside new restaurants, eager to see what the articles are talking about, doesn’t usually fit into his narrow list of hobbies. but on friday he had overheard komiyama rant and rave about the miso mackerel ramen during the whole third period, and come seven o'clock that night, haru had made up his mind. he’d go.
and if he was venturing outside the comforts of his own kitchen, haru guessed it would be better to have company. but makoto would be busy with ren and ran that day, and nagisa and rei had their whole studying itinerary to stick to. he would’ve messaged rin too, but lately he heard the swimmer was too busy crying and shaking his sister up over rumors for anything else of a social life (he'd leave sousuke to deal with all of that).
so he stands there in line alone, but solitude isn't bad. at least as a concept, or as its own entity. it's just sometimes he has too much of it.
haru’s chin drops slightly, nose pressing deeper into his thick scarf saturated in the heat of his breath. cold weather doesn’t really bother him to the degree it does to most, but he agreed to wear it during makoto’s apologetic phone call. if there’s any regret he feels in having started this idle mission, one stray glimpse at a cheerful slurping customer through the glass walls is staunching enough. he has to hold out, wait till it’s his turn. then when he’s there and eating, he can take in every taste and mentally preserve it for the next time he’s picking out fish and groceries. he had been told to change up his menu a bit, after all.
it’s when haru’s moving up to the third person in line that he spots a familiar face (or rather, ponytail) in the passing crowd. his eyes widen slightly in recognition, lips parting with a quiet but acknowledging “gou.”
