Abe wouldn't call himself a compulsive worrier. Anxiety is for people who don't have it together, who can't see ahead and don't know where the game is going. Abe knows that he's better than that, and prides himself on a certain consistent level of informed confidence. The pitcher may occupy the hot seat in the game, but Abe knows a catcher can't afford to be anything other than coolly rational.
So it makes him a little crazy that he's always worrying after Mihashi. His worry takes many forms, but today, it's centered around a bento.
"Eat that," Abe says gruffly, doing his level best to look out the bus window instead of at whatever achingly pathetic expression is on Mihashi's face. "My mom made it for you, so you'd better appreciate it."
Mihashi almost drops the bento box. "Abe-kun's mom made this?" he asks, and there's that stunned wonderment that makes Abe feel simultaneously sort of hot under the collar and also mutely angry, that Mihashi should still be surprised at the least bit of kindness.
"Well, I certainly didn't," Abe says, his tone still short. It's not quite a lie -- his mother may have pressed Abe into service for the rabbit-shaped apple slices. Mihashi really doesn't need to know how many slices Abe ruined before he got the hang of it.
Mihashi, infuriatingly enough, is still looking at his lunch instead of eating it. "I bought bread," he says after a minute, going to dig some horrifying sugar-laden processed flour product from his bag.
"Absolutely not," Abe says flatly. "You'll starve to death on that garbage. Eat the bento, Mihashi." Hoping to coax Mihashi along by example, he opens his own bento and takes out the matching chopsticks.
Mihashi finally does as he's asked, and even gets halfway through his meal before he says brightly, "It's nice. I mean, the matching bento. I mean, eating with you, Abe-kun." He says it with that strangely hesistant, direct honesty of his, the kind that makes it seem like Mihashi has been storing up all his courage just for that moment.
It knocks Abe flat every time, so that all he can do is mutter, "Finish it, I mean it," and try not to look at Mihashi out of the corner of his eye.