Takeru really didn’t know anything about Kouichi, and yet he had let him into his humble abode because he did know Izumi (more or less), and he trusted her (again, more or less). The blonde could only roll his eyes as Kouichi scrutinized him. He hadn’t pegged him for someone who judged people so easily, but maybe he’d misread his gaze.
He nodded at Kouichi as he took his hoodie, never really recalling a time in which he’d seen him without it on, or on his vicinity. Takeru shrugged, maybe it was something similar to Taichi’s goggles to him. “Come to think of it, Kimura-san, for the two years we’ve been in the same school, I’ve only ever seen you wear that hoodie. Is it important to you?”
Still, Takeru couldn’t help but stifle a laugh as Kouichi smirked at him— he covered his mouth as to seem polite. The devious look for some reason matched his underclassman’s demeanour, but it wasn’t something he’d been expecting from him. He grabbed his keys and opened the door, not before playfully patting the boy on the back.
“Oh, come on. Between me and Orimoto-chan, you’ve got your hands full. You’re free to ditch me anytime you like.” He winked, an amused smile on his face as he walked through the door.
Kouichi allowed himself to fume for a brief moment, lower lip firmly between his teeth. What kind of person did Takeru think he was? He by no means was a deserter. His face flushed in embarrassment as opposed to anger at the wink sent his way. A fish out of water. He couldn't find it in him to stay mad for long. After all he was essentially a stranger to the blond.
Outside of the apartment they spent a moment in silence, Kouichi wondered if they'd even have to lock the door this time around or if it'd be a waste of time. He rubbed his calf with the toe of his worn sneaker. He wasn't exactly sure how to take Takeru's question. Was he truly interested or was it polite small talk? Only his best friend really knew the reason why and she hadn't asked. He had just told her out of the blue.
His bad was alight where Takeru had patted him, and that was what it took to spur him on. "Well, I've had it since I was a child. My grandmother gave it to me...but I don't think you've reached level forty two of this friendship to unlock my tragic backstory, Takaishi." It was easier to joke then tongue at a still raw sore.
It was too easy to speak with Takeru like this. His stomach was in knots but his tongue seemed to have a mind of its own. “Is there a reason you’re exceptionally nice to nearly complete strangers or does that come with the whole angelic upper class man package?” it was only fair to ask his own question but his face flushed darker after it was all said and done. The only thing that really connected them was Izumi and that feather light feeling in his chest caused by Takeru.
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