I'll be there at 8 :)
Sitting in the booth at Wild-Duck Burger, Souji read the text on his phone for probably the 50th time. With his other hand, he absently brought a french fry to his mouth and munched on it, hardly tasting it.
It was 8:10. Akira was late.
Since it was in his nature to always think the best of people, Souji tried to be generous. Perhaps his boyfriend was just running late. Shibuya was a busy place, and fighting through the thick crowds of people was never easy, especially if you were taking the subway. Heck, maybe Akira had missed his train and then been forced to wait for the next one. Maybe he'd be along any minute, maybe he'd slip right into the seat across from Souji before he even noticed.
Maybe Souji wasn't being stood up.
Souji scoffed at the thought. He re-read the text one more time, his eye catching on the emoticon. Was it genuine? He didn't know anymore.
It was now 8:13.
This wasn't the first time Akira had failed to show up. Nor the second, nor the third, nor... For whatever reason, Akira had problems keeping their dinner dates. The first time it'd happened, Akira had sent a card via the waitress, which had been cute. The stationery had been so fancy with its red and black lettering. Souji had put it in a scrapbook.
It had been less cute the next time, and after that, Akira had apparently grown complacent in their relationship, instead simply sending Souji a text when he couldn't make it.
Souji wasn't even getting that tonight. In frustration, he sent Akira a 'where are you?' text himself.
All Souji wanted was to spend time with his boyfriend. Was that so much to ask for? Just to have a quiet dinner together. They would talk, though Souji enjoyed listening more. He enjoyed hearing Akira's tales of his classmates' antics. How the teacher had thrown a piece of chalk at him when he'd fallen asleep in class and the chalk had left a noticeable white mark in his black hair for the rest of the school day...
Souji imagined the boy sitting across from him now, with his nerdy (but cute) glasses, his hair so messy that it always looked like it had never once seen a comb in its lifetime, his sweet smile... He imagined holding the boy's hand under the table, maybe entwining their fingers or simply setting his hand on the other boy's knee. Akira would give him those coy looks whenever he squeezed that knee, and...
Even if Akira arrived late, Souji would forgive him if it resulted in that.
Souji snapped his phone shut, trying to force himself not to keep looking at it. At the rate he was going, its battery wouldn't last the night. He ate another soggy fry, feeling miserable.
The door to the restaurant opened, grabbing his attention, but it was just a mom and her young daughter. Not a cute boy with red plaid pants. He watched them order, then idly checked his phone again.
Almost a half an hour now... He wondered how long he should wait. The waitress looked like she was about to come over and ask if he needed anything—Wuck food could do things to people, after all—but he kept his eyes on his phone to deter her.
The worst part was that he'd told Akira. This is it, he'd said. If you're not going to be there, I...
I'll be there. I promise.
Souji blinked away the tears he suddenly felt welling in his eyes. Akira had lied to him. Honestly, if he couldn't be trusted to keep a simple dinner date, then was it even worth it? Souji would be better off with someone else, someone who valued him enough to be there when he needed him, someone who thought he was interesting enough to spend the evening with, someone who genuinely liked to be around him.
Souji squeezed his eyes shut. He had some choices to make. He could forgive his boyfriend (again), or... go through with his threat. He was aware that he was kind of a pushover, and that had to change.
Drawing his lips into a thin line, he decided he'd change it now. He'd give Akira another ten minutes, and if he didn't show up, or at least reply to his text or call... then it'd be over. He'd break it off.
A man at another table was starting to give him sympathetic looks. Maybe he should be dating that guy instead. His glasses made him look really cute, but... Akira had glasses, and that'd only remind him of...
Well, of being stood up in a Wuck like this. A Wuck, of all places. When Yosuke found out about this, he would never let Souji live it down.
Souji didn't know how the time had moved so fast, but the ten minutes were up. He bit his lip hard, willing himself not to break down here in public. He picked up his half-eaten tray of food slowly—just in case Akira would suddenly show up—and took it to the trash can, where he began to throw it all out. The fries sliding down the tray and into the trash felt like the pieces of his shattered heart.
He returned to his table to pick up his coffee. He hurt his throat in the process of swallowing a sigh and tried to get the resulting ache out of his throat by finishing the drink. It had grown so cold by now that it only worsened the ache in his heart.
He couldn't do this anymore.
He left the cafe and headed home, keeping his phone in his hand while he walked. If Akira texted him, he wasn't going to bother answering.
There were no texts.
Souji woke up sometime later because his phone had lit up the room. He was being called. The ringtone was the one he'd set for Akira, something classical because he'd always thought 'classy' was romantic.
He reached for the phone with a groan.
Souji scowled at the 'Now calling...' display. Now he wanted to go out? Over three and a half hours past their intended date time?
His entire body shaking, Souji held up the phone to his ear and accepted the call. Akira's voice immediately came over the line. "Souji, thank god you're there. Listen, I'm sorry, but I—"
"W-we're through," Souji interrupted, the hurt in his voice unmistakable. "You promised."
"Souji, listen to me, you don't understand! I need you, I'm—"
Souji slammed his phone shut so hard that he almost broke the case. Breathing heavily, he hugged his pillow so tightly that he almost cut off circulation to his hands. He hiccuped and hot tears began to roll down his cheeks. He cried himself to sleep for the second time that night.
"I'm in jail," Akira whispered into the phone. A police officer listened in over his shoulder behind him, but the line was now only a dial tone.