Chapter Text
He watches, mesmerized, as you walk barefoot around the kitchen, looking so ethereal and untouchable that his chest does something funny whenever you smile at him. It’s not the first time he’s found himself gaping like an idiot, unsure what to say or do with his hands.
At first, he’d mistaken his feelings for annoyance—not entirely understanding why he avoided going to your side of the office on your first day. But then you’d bumped into him, spilling coffee down his button-up, and he couldn’t really get rid of you ever since.
The main reason is that you felt bad, which somehow translated into getting coffee together and exchanging office gossip in the breakroom. One night, after spending hours trying to find a unique bookstore to take you to, Megumi realizes that he might’ve allowed it to happen.
Staying in to watch sitcoms on Fridays. Going the extra mile just to make you laugh. Letting you meet his sister.
It almost feels juvenile to admit that he has a crush.
There’s only one problem: you’re entirely oblivious.
He’s rolled the idea around in his head—thought of countless scenarios to tell you.
The best he can come up with is when you have a spoon near his face to taste the soup simmering on the stove, and he wraps his hand around yours before it reaches his mouth.
“What are we doing?” he murmurs.
“What do you mean?”
“This,” he gestures to the stove.
“Making dinner?” you say, looking baffled.
“Yes, but we do it all the time.”
Your brows furrow. “Yeah…”
“And spend our weekends together.”
“Okay—”
“We go grocery shopping and take road trips,” he continues. “You even spend the night at my house.”
A surprised look crosses your face, and he wonders if you finally get it.
“Oh,” you say. “I see. I’m encroaching on your space. We can—I can reschedule our movie nights and cook at my own house if you don’t want to do that anymore. It’s just…I thought you liked doing that stuff with me.”
Megumi’s shoulders slump, and he gives a tired sigh. “The problem isn’t that I don’t want to. It’s that I want more.”
“Am I—” Your eyes get glassy, and your chin wobbles. “Are you trying to see someone? I’m getting in the way, aren’t I?”
“No.”
“No?”
“You don’t get it,” he says, running his thumb over the back of your hand. “You’re the person I’m seeing.”
You look at him wide-eyed and bewildered.
“There are not many people I’d drive two hours away for just to buy over-priced books for, you know. Also, I can’t remember the last time I helped Yuji cook in the kitchen, and he’s my roommate.” He takes a breath: “Do you get it now?”
A smile slowly splits across your face.
“Don’t smile at me like that.”
“I can’t believe you’re in love with me,” you whisper.
“I never said—”
He barely gets the words out before you kiss him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and most likely staining his shirt with the spoonful of soup in your hand. But when his brain cells catch up—his arms winding around your waist, your lips soft and gentle against his—he doesn’t think he cares too much.