Work Text:
“Oh, the first time I saw you, I confess, you nearly put me in a cardiac arrest.”
- “Robot Writes a Love Song” // PUP
You swung your hips as you sang along to the tune pounding through the speakers of the bar, a pint glass balanced in one hand while the other tugged at tap #4. A hazy ale poured from the spout, a foamy head bubbling to the surface of the golden liquid just as the drums kicked in, the steady rhythm matching the beat of your tapping foot. Perhaps you were the slightest bit delayed, off by a millisecond, but you chose to blame the sticky tiles catching the soles of your shoes instead of your internal metronome. No matter how many times you mopped, the floor was always coated in a thin layer of beer and juice.
Bobbing your head, you slung the beverage across the counter, smiling to the middle-aged man on the other side. “A refill for ya, sir!” You chimed, shimmying your way over to the service computer to ring in his drink. You didn’t wait for a thank you. There was no point. The man had been coming into the shabby little bar every Friday for the past three months and spoke almost exclusively in grunts and the names of the beers listed on the massive blackboard behind you.
You weren’t bothered. It wasn’t the first time you had served someone who wanted to be left alone, and it was certainly not going to be the last.
Respecting the customer’s wishes, you leaned against the far end of the bar, busying yourself by polishing glassware as your eyes raked over the dimly lit booths and tables crammed into the relatively small space. A table of four sipped cocktails by the door, ugly ties of various patterns hanging loosely around their necks. They must have come straight from work, eager to start their weekend with a highball just as stiff as their polyester dress shirts. A couple on a date had chosen the table closest to the tiny stage, where an acoustic duo were setting up their equipment. The live music was set to start in a few minutes. Just enough time to get one more song from your playlist in.
You looked up from the tablet hooked up to your music system as the door to the bar creaked open, your index finger defaulting to one of your favorite songs as you readied a welcoming grin for the newcomers.
“Good evening!” Your voice rang out across the room, not loud enough to garner attention from any of the current patrons but audible over the music overhead. “You can grab a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll be right with you!”
You counted the members of the group as they made for a round booth, retrieving water glasses for each customer. 1... 2... 3... 4... 5... 6... Wait, hold on. Was that a person dressed in a realistic panda costume?!
As tap water sloshed into the cups, you supposed you had seen weirder things. Maybe there was some sort of convention in town. Maybe this person was... what were they called... a furry? Hey, whatever works for them. You weren’t going to judge. If they weren’t rude to you for no reason, then they were alright in your book.
You wondered if the person would take off the head of the costume to drink, though. They must be sweltering beneath a heavy suit of faux fur.
“Thanks for stopping by,” You plastered a wide beam across your face to hide your disappointment when the panda person made no move to remove their headpiece as you passed out the waters. Their eyes were so flush with the fur, not even a sliver of flesh was visible beneath. Whoever had crafted such a suit had to be impressive – Was there an underground market for fancy fur suits that imitated the animal’s likeness with eerie accuracy? How much money had this person spent to look like a panda?
The panda cleared their throat, ducking its head.
Oh. You had been staring.
“Uh,” You stammered, backing away with a nervous laugh and addressing the rest of the group, “I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”
Your eyes flitted back to the panda.
Did it just raise an eyebrow? How? Was there technology within the mask that allowed the fabric to move with the person’s face?
“Cool, there’s live music tonight!”
The panda turned their attention to whoever had spoken at the table. It took serious effort to tear your gaze away from the bear-person to follow suite.
“Yeah, they’ll be starting shortly,” You nodded, acknowledging the young man with the messy pink hair.
“I thought we were gonna catch up,” A woman with copper hair that brushed her shoulders pouted, “Let’s go somewhere we don’t have to yell to hear each other.”
“They’re not loud,” You reassured, trying to appear as neutral as possible. Of course, you wanted them to stay. That meant more tips. And more time to examine this high-tech panda costume. “Just an acoustic guitar, a tambourine, and vocals. Perfect background music.”
The second woman, this one with dark hair tied into a ponytail, peered at you with sharp eyes beneath square spectacles, “It’s to your benefit if we stay, yes? Why should we believe you?” Her locks swished along with the movement of her head, glinting green in the light of the lamp above the booth.
You blanched beneath her shrewd gaze, “Uh, well, you’re not wrong, but I guess... I wouldn’t want to be inconvenienced by blasting music while chatting with friends either, you know?” Shrugging, you mustered a chuckle, “And if I lie to you, you’ll just be unhappy and tip poorly. Not much of a winning scenario, am I right?”
A low hum sounded from the man to the right of Mr. Pink. A man with steely eyes and messy hair that stuck up in all directions nodded... sullenly? Could someone project such emotion into a bob of their head? “They’re not wrong. Let’s stay and feel it out.”
When no one at the table spoke their dissent, despite the unconvinced scowl mirrored on each woman’s features, you clapped your hands together with an airy, “Alright, then! What are we thinking for drinks?”
The panda, surprisingly enough, ordered first. “I’ll take your cheapest beer.”
You blinked at the deep timbre of his voice, scrawling the order on your notepad.
“And I’ll take your most expensive vodka. Double. On the rocks with a splash of cranberry,” The woman with the ginger hair smirked.
“Oh, big spender!” Mr. Pink snickered, “Drinks on Nobara tonight!”
She snorted, lifting a credit card between her fingers, prompting everyone around her to gawk. Some groaned, some laughed. The panda tried to snatch it out of her hand, “We’re not using Gojo’s credit card! We’re not his students anymore!”
The spectacled woman shrugged, “Then he should find a new hiding place for it, right? Straight whiskey for me. Top shelf, of course.” She turned an expectant gaze to where you waited, fidgeting anxiously. Had you bit off more than you could chew with this... eccentric group? What if the owner of the credit card came to hunt you down?
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Pink beamed up at you, “Gojo’s harmless.”
Porcupine Head next to him frowned, “More like extremely dangerous.”
“Nah, the worst he would do is break their heart.” There was no trace of humor on the pink haired man’s face.
The ginger woman – Nobara? – rolled her eyes, “He thinks he can get anyone with those pretty eyes of his.”
“Ah, um,” You could feel their eyes on you, your face flushing in response to the attention, “Well, good thing I prefer a nice smile?”
Mr. Pink laughed, loud and boisterous, zapping the tension from your shoulders. “You’re okay. Can you surprise me with a fun drink? I’m not picky.”
Normally you would hate such a request, but the sincerity of his grin had you wrapped around his finger. You would make him a special drink, just this once.
“Sake, please,” Porcupine Head didn’t look away from the stage as he ordered. The musicians were checking their microphone levels. You wondered if his vote to stay at your bar had been the slightest bit selfish. A pair of red headphones hung around his neck, and he angled himself partially out of the booth to get a better view of the acoustic act. You felt the slightest bit of relief flood your system – at least someone would be listening to the entertainment.
It was then that you realized the sixth person at the table hadn’t spoken a single word.
Dwarfed by the size of the panda person next to him, he seemed to blend into the shadows of the booth. His black hoodie hadn’t helped him stand out at all, and the way he buried the lower half of his face into a deep teal scarf told you he didn’t necessarily want to be noticed. If it wasn’t for his shiny, pale hair that practically glowed silver in the bar light, he would have appeared invisible to any passerby.
You waited patiently as he scanned the blackboard above the shelves of liqueur behind the bar, his eyes jumping down the list of beers on tap. Without lifting his face from the scarf, he lifted three fingers, turning his attention to you.
“#3! Good choice!” You chirped, spinning on your heel and making for your workstation as you called, “I’ll be right back with your drinks!”
You fell into your typical dance behind the bar, pausing the music on the speaker system as the acoustic act began to play. You hummed along to the cover song they opened with – it wasn’t a genre of your liking, but you had heard it on the radio countless times. Besides, you could appreciate a catchy hook.
Stepping lightly across the sticky floor, you snatched bottles and glasses, spinning around to survey all your customers as you crafted the drinks for the table of six. Everyone was taken care of. No one required your attention immediately.
Which left you to eye the newest group as they chattered away.
Arms waved and lips split into wide grins, laughter bubbling so loud you could hear it from the bar. Nobara’s face was set in a furious scowl as she banged her fist on the table, full lips curled over terrifyingly sharp teeth. You weren’t entirely sure what she was miming, but you hoped it was a scenario less vicious than it appeared from afar. At least, her audience’s amused cackles told you that they were less than concerned.
The way their eyes glimmered with fond memories, each participant in the conversation jumping over half-spewed sentences to get a word in, had you feeling nostalgic on their behalf. Even the silent man was gesturing animatedly, and the joy displayed on the unobscured portion of his face told you that he must be laughing as well. Nobara had mentioned that they were catching up. High school friends getting together years after graduation, perhaps?
“Oh my god, remember our first Goodwill Exchange?” Nobara was asking as you placed her drink in front of her.
“I remember Panda tossing you around like a sack of potatoes while training,” The other woman teased, jabbing a finger into Nobara’s shoulder.
The bear in question shrugged sheepishly.
“It paid off though, Maki,” Porcupine Head thanked you quietly as he took a sip of his sake.
“I also remember kicking your ass more times than I could count, Megumi,” She retorted smugly.
Mr. Pink snickered, “And you all thought I was dead!” You set down an extravagant, multicolored beverage, complete with a slice of pineapple and paper cocktail umbrella. “Oh! This looks fun! Thanks!”
The quiet blonde shook his head vigorously, drawing attention to himself without making a sound. The panda nodded, “Toge’s right, Yuji. We still haven’t forgiven you for that.”
You lingered by the table just long enough to hear Yuji sputter a protest about this Gojo person (who seemed like an enigma – the fact that he seemed to be even stranger than the six in the booth was impressive) having insisted that his resurrection remain a secret. You scurried away under Maki’s skeptical glare, as Nobara raised her voice, shouting about the absurdity of the situation and lifting her hand to smack it against a head of pink hair.
Who...
Who the fuck were these people???
They had to be crazy, right?
Thankfully, the other customers around you were ready for refills and bills, and you managed to busy yourself, losing yourself in the soft hum of acoustic music as you hopped from table to table. You slung beers across the bar tops and mixed cocktails in shakers, singing along to every tune you recognized. You couldn’t help but give in to the music as you skirted around the bar. It brought life to the dingy little venue, it bubbled in your chest and threatened to explode into the worst dance moves known to mankind. Your shifts wouldn’t be nearly as fun if you couldn’t groove along to live music or your favorite tracks, and if you weren’t having a good time, your customer service would come off fake and insincere.
The truth was, you genuinely liked your job, and it showed. You had fun at work, and your whimsical presence as you twirled behind the bar comforted your patrons. Everyone preferred to interact with a happy person, instead of a disgruntled employee.
There was a flash in your peripheral as you passed the rowdy group of old friends.
You locked eyes with the quiet blonde man as he returned his hand to the pint glass in front of him. You could have sworn you had just seen him dump salt from the shaker into Porcupine Head’s sake....
He blinked slowly, before raising an index finger to where his mouth would be beneath his scarf.
You grinned. A subtle nod.
By the time Porcupine Head – Megumi, if you recalled how he had been addressed by his friends – spluttered, coughing his drink all over Yuji next to him in a mist of spit and alcohol, you had already returned behind the bar. You ducked your head as you giggled, pouring a replacement drink.
When you dropped it off, your eyes darted over to the culprit.
He had his hand wrapped around his scarf, tugging it down as he lifted his beer to his lips. Black ink swirled around either side of his mouth, twin circles staring at you like a second pair of eyes. You faltered, feeling your heart skip a beat. You had thought he was cold, or something, not that he was hiding his face for a reason. Why would he hide a tattoo he had intentionally gotten anyway?
He winked.
Oh god, he had just caught you ogling his mouth. Awkward.
You hurried away from the table before the blush flooded your cheeks.
The rest of your shift flew by without a hitch. The music was good. The vibes were alright. The eccentric group of 5 and a panda were polite and amusing, and used the mythical Gojo’s credit card to pay for their bill after 3 rounds. They shouted goodbye and thanked you for your service, which was honestly so nice, considering they had left you a hefty tip.
The blonde had looked back at the door, offering you a small wave, his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. You wondered what his smile looked like beneath his scarf.
When you went to clean the table of the empty glasses, you found a slip of paper tucked beneath the quiet man’s glass, placed with intention.
Thank you (:
Huh.
What a peculiar group of people.
***
“If you feel lonely, I could be lonely with you.”
- “Sports” // Beach Bunny
There was the scrape of a bar stool being tugged from the counter, the legs protesting the tiled floor. You called out a greeting without turning around from where you loaded the glasswasher, singing along to your playlist, as per usual.
You expected a response, a joke about the way you flitted around the bar as if it was a stage. You were closing in 5 minutes, after all. At this time of the night, it had to be a regular patron who had come in to keep you company as you closed up shop.
Instead, you were met with silence.
Brow furrowed in confusion, you spun on your heel, hand darting out to clutch the bar top as you nearly slipped on the wet floor. You shouldn’t have taken away your floor mats to wash them, yet.
Nearly falling flat on your ass was not nearly as surprising as the person sitting across from you, though.
The quiet blonde from last week waved, eyes squinting in what had to be a friendly smile.
“Oh,” You reacted slowly, your professionalism waning as you struggled to grasp what was a perfectly normal situation.
This was a bar. You worked at a bar. A bar that was still open for another few minutes, technically. A bar that the man had visited last week with his friends. He must have walked by and decided to pop in for a quick drink. That was literally the purpose of this establishment.
So, why was your heart beating against your ribs as if trying to break free?
He cocked his head to the side, and you saw the fog of doubt begin to creep into his pretty violet irises.
Absently, you wondered how you hadn’t noticed the striking shade before. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about the handsome, silent patron in the past week. Maybe once. Maybe twice.
“Hi, welcome back!” You regained your composure, “Did you want #3 again?”
He nodded.
You filled his request immediately, opening his tab after slinging the pint in front of him. You searched your memory for his name as the screen prompted you to type it in. The group had thrown out various names... Mr. Pink was Yuji, the copper haired woman was Nobara, the glasses belonged to Maki, Porcupine Head was Megumi, the panda was a Panda, and...
“Toge’s right, Yuji.”
You punched in the four letters, your index finger trembling, though you refused to consider why. You were used to dealing with strangers. There was no reason to be anxious.
Briefly, you considered trying to engage in conversation, then shook the thought away. His posture remained the same as the other night – shoulders curled in, his frame buried in an oversized sweater and yet another scarf – this one a burnt orange. The color looked nice against his pale locks, the strands just brushing the edge of the wool fabric.
What did he do in the summer? It would be too hot to wear a heavy scarf all the time.
That was besides the point, though. His silence and body language told you that he wished to be left alone, not unlike the other solo patrons who would swing by for a post-work beverage.
You continued with your closing duties, pausing your mopping to turn up the music on the speaker system the slightest bit – not loud enough to disturb the man’s quiet beer, but enough that you could sing along without drawing attention to yourself.
Once you were finished all you could do before the bar was empty, you swung by the occupied bar stool with a light, “Is it to your liking?”
You expected a nod in response.
Instead, he immediately croaked, “Salm-” before cutting himself off abruptly. His voice was low and raspy. It sounded like it was worn from use, and you froze in surprise.
“...Pardon?”
His eyes widened, and you watched the slightest hint of pink creep across his cheeks, to the tip of his ears. He did not repeat himself.
So, you waited.
“...Salmon,” He mumbled into his scarf.
What.
The.
Fuck.
“Uh,” You broke the tense silence with the only response you could think of, “I’ve got some frozen fish sticks if you want those?”
He shook his head, eyes darting to the depths of his beer, shoulders hunching over even more than they had previously.
Your heart sank. He looked so disappointed. So disappointed and small and...
His fingers ripped at the coaster he had retrieved from beneath his glass as he stared blankly at the bubbles in his drink.
Lonely.
It hit you then. You had been wrong.
You prided yourself on your ability to read people. It was a necessary skill for those working in the restaurant and hospitality industry. You thought you could tell when people wanted to engage and when people wanted to be left alone. You tried to cater your personality to their preference, to mold their experience at the bar to something they would enjoy. You had considered his posture, his lack of communication, and had written him off as someone who didn’t want to talk. You had assumed he wanted to be left alone. You hadn’t, for one second, considered that there were other reasons verbal communication was off the table. Why he was capable of speech, yet chose not to use it, was beyond you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to interact.
The shame flooded your body, gluing your feet to the ground (a far stickier substance than spilt beer). You gawked at the blonde man refusing to lift his head.
You had probably just made him even less likely to try and meet people in the future.
Desperate to fix your mistake, you snatched your cell phone from your pocket. Opening a blank page in the Notes app, you swiftly typed a message before sliding it into his sight.
We do have some snacks here if you’re hungry.
He lifted his head, his gaze a whirlwind of appreciation, relief, nerves and embarrassment. His silvery hair flopped as he shook his head once more.
Pointing to the phone, he raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you can use it,” You smiled.
He typed faster than you had ever seen anyone type before.
I’m okay, thank you. The beer is good. I’m Toge Inumaki. It’s nice to meet you.
You grinned, responding with your name and a gesture to the overhead speaker. “Any music requests? I’m technically closed now so the bar is all yours!”
He blanched – I don’t want to keep you! Sorry, I should have looked at the hours before I came in.
“No, no, you’re okay! It was a quiet night, so I don’t mind kicking around for a while if you want another drink. As long as you don’t mind me puttering around as you drink.”
Thank you. I’ll be quick. It was a long day.
He hesitated, before adding – I like your playlist.
“You won’t once my terrible singing ruins all the songs,” Laughing, you began to empty the glasswasher, retrieving a cloth to polish the clean cups.
His eyes crinkled in amusement – You have a nice voice.
“Oh god, you must be thinking of someone else. The acoustic artists last week, maybe?”
It was then that you noticed he hadn’t even touched his beer. He had said it was good though...
Ah.
“Um,” You weren’t sure how to breach the topic, “Your tattoos don’t bother me, you know. You can take your scarf off. Or...” You flushed as he blinked rapidly, caught off guard, “I can, uh, go away while you drink if you’re more comfortable with that.”
He mulled it over momentarily, and you were just about to retreat to the seating area of the bar to begin stacking chairs and sweeping when he tugged his scarf off, draping it atop the black jacket hanging on the stool next to him.
He busied himself by taking a massive swig of his beer, his exposed adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
You realized that there was absolutely nothing strange about someone in a sweater, face and neck unobscured, drinking at your bar. However, with Inumaki, you found it rather intimate. The way he focused on his hands ripping the coaster and the beer before him, instead of making eye contact, oozed a sort of vulnerability. He wasn’t uncomfortable, per se, but this was obviously not his norm. A warmth bloomed in your chest as you considered that he probably didn’t expose his neck, his chin, his mouth in front of just anyone.
For who knows what reason, he had decided to trust you.
You made sure not to stare at his lips this time, despite the bordering tattoos practically screaming for your attention.
The song that was playing ended, to be replaced by a familiar guitar riff. “Fuck yeah,” You whispered under your breath, energy pulsing through your body. Now was the perfect time to finish your closing duties.
Inumaki didn’t hold you back from ending your shift. In fact, you had glanced over a few times as you had danced around the room behind him, stacking chairs and cleaning tables, to find his head bobbing to the track, his hands having abandoned the coaster to drum along on the counter.
When you returned to the bar, he asked – What song is this? I like it.
“Refused’s ‘New Noise’. Pretty fun, eh? It always gets me amped up.”
He nodded – I'll add it to my mission playlist. It’s... fitting.
You had no idea what he meant by that, and when you watched him open his music application to add the song to a playlist titled Exorcising Vibes, you weren’t sure if you really wanted to know.
Having finished your clean up, you shrugged on your jacket, sliding onto the bar stool next to Inumaki. He looked up from his phone in alarm, but you waved him off before he could type a question. “Don’t rush. Take your time.”
Regardless, he chugged the rest of his beer, returned your phone to you, paid up and left immediately. He had flashed you a wide smile that made your insides squirm before he covered his mouth once more.
That night, you dreamt of violet eyes and silvery blonde hair, of circular tattoos framing full lips.
***
The rest of the weekend creeped by slowly, with your eyes constantly flicking to the door, waiting for someone who never arrived.
You cursed yourself.
He didn’t owe you another visit.
He wasn’t a friend.
He wasn’t anything.
He was a customer who had returned once.
And that was all.
***
“I want to know if you think about me half as much as I think of you.”
- “Take My Advice” // Wild Party
It was exactly 5 days later – 8 since Toge Inumaki’s last visit – when he slid through the door at 5 minutes until close.
He rushed over to the bar, already typing furiously on his phone. There was a crease in his brow when he thrust the device into your face, panic in his eyes.
Sorry I haven’t been by sooner. Work has been crazy. Is it too late to get a drink?
You could barely even register your reaction. Were you happy? Irritated? Relieved? Worried?
“Yes,” You managed to breathe, before correcting yourself with a yelp, “I mean, no! Yes, you can get a drink. That’s what I tried to say.” You chuckled sheepishly, feeling the heat rush to your face as you stammered over your words.
Relaxing, Inumaki perched himself on the same bar stool as last time, making to remove his... Ah, today he was wearing a simple black face mask. Certainly easier to take off than a scarf.
Sliding a frosty pint glass in front of him, he smiled - Thank you so much! Do you have much more to do before you’re done?
“Nah, the regulars left early today. I was just about to lock up when you showed up. I’m all done.”
Wanna join me?
Moments later, you were knocking the rim of your own beer against his, chirping, “Cheers!” The door was locked and the sign turned off. It was just you and Inumaki and the music.
“You said work has been busy?” You tapped your fingers along to the beat of the drums. It was a soft indie track.
Inumaki sighed – You have no idea. The students are preparing for an exchange event with our sister school. I appreciate their enthusiasm, but they have me working overtime.
“You’re a teacher?” You hummed.
He mulled it over, eventually typing a simple You could say that.
You quirked your eyebrow.
It’s complicated.
“Well, that’s not suspicious at all,” You teased. Though, despite your light tone, you were genuinely curious. It was almost as if the more you learned about Inumaki and his group of friends, the less you understood.
He offered you a sheepish smile, waving his hand in a gesture combined with a shrug. You didn’t need him to type it out. He was apologizing.
“It’s okay. I won’t pry. I hope the exchange goes well and you can rest soon, though.” You didn’t miss the way his eyes widened at your compassion, how he immediately ducked his head and took a sip of beer to hide his blush.
Thank you.
It was quiet for a moment as you both sipped at your respective drinks, gazes fixed on the blackboard atop the bar. You weren’t oblivious to the tension brewing between the two of you. The good kind. The kind that made your stomach somersault and your fingers tremble in anticipation.
You could hear his foot tapping along to the song on the speakers, knocking against the bar wall.
Clearing your throat, you asked, “If you’re a teacher, why do you have a playlist for, erm, missions ?” The word exorcism bounced around in your brain.
Worrying his bottom lip, he offered – I teach at the school I attended as a teen. There are a lot of – He paused – Field trips. Sometimes I scout them on my own.
You did not believe him the slightest.
And judging by the nervous energy emanating from him, he knew it.
“Am I going to get murdered tonight?” You narrowed your eyes, leaning as far away from him as possible without falling off your seat.
He pretended to think about it, even going so far as to type Yes, then replacing it with Maybe, before settling on No, absolutely not.
The charming grin he gave you, violet eyes crinkling in amusement and pearly teeth on full display, had you hoping he would be interested in a second beverage. He was so pretty. Even if he was a threat to your life, and potentially dangerous, you were enjoying his company.
“Fine, keep your secrets,” You allowed yourself to nudge his shoulder with yours ever so slightly. “Better make it a fun last night for me, then.”
He hadn’t flinched away from the contact, instead typing swiftly – You like music a lot.
“No, why would you think that? It’s not like everything about me points to that,” You gestured to the vintage band tee you were sporting.
I like that about you.
When your eyes darted back to his face, wide and caught off guard, he hurriedly added – I mean, it’s cool to see someone finding joy in the sounds around them. You look happy when there is music playing.
You shrugged, “I am happy. Singing and dancing distracts from the less pleasant aspects of life, you know? Gotta enjoy the little things. What do you like?”
He watched as you took a sip of your beer, his curious eyes studying your face, a pensive expression creasing his brow.
After a while, he typed – I like flowers.
“Lovely,” You smiled, “Do you have a garden?”
I tend to the school’s gardens in my spare time. I took some cuttings to start my own window box.
“Cute,” You poked his cheek, “What else you like?”
He didn’t think as hard this time – Rice balls.
“Do they bring you joy?” You laughed.
He nodded, face lighting up in a bright smile.
“Hmmm,” You tapped your chin, “Gotta talk to the owner about getting some here, then. Just for you.”
Inumaki seemed delighted.
You took it one step further. “Though, then you’ll have to come in more often.”
He wasted no time in pushing his cellphone towards you, a blank contact page open on the screen.
Your phone vibrated the moment you had stepped through the threshold of your small studio apartment.
- 12:43am - (XXX) XXX-XXXX
Toge Inumaki ^.^ Did you get home safe?
- 12:44am – bartender
I did. Thank you, Inumaki!
- 12:46am – Toge Inumaki
Just Toge is fine. Sleep well! See you soon (:
***
“You and I, dancing to something that no one likes, ‘cause you like the weight of the world sometimes.”
- “99 to the Moon” // Said The Whale
You already had his pint poured by the time Toge slid onto his usual stool at the bar top. You made quick work of locking the door behind him, a giddy grin pulling at your lips. It wasn’t like you had been looking forward to his visit. No, not at all.
This was the fifth day in a row he had come by at close, and the two of you had fallen into an easy routine. You started your close as early as possible, in order to maximize the time you could sit next to him at the bar, chatting over a drink. He would give you the heads up via text if he planned to come in. You couldn’t help but notice that his busy work schedule had waned this week, though he hadn’t mentioned his career at all in the last few days.
“Hey,” You frowned as you pushed aside the mop you had been using, “How’s work? Did the exchange event already happen?”
Toge blinked himself out of a daze. He had been watching you twirl around the bar with the mop, dancing to the tune of your daily playlist. You tried not to blush.
No, it’s next month.
Nodding, you pried, “You seem less stressed about it. I’m surprised you’ve been able to visit so often.”
He shrugged – I wanted to make time to see you.
Your heart flip-flopped.
I told the students to bother the principal for training past 9pm.
“And that won’t get you in trouble?”
He grinned mischievously – Perks of being besties with the tops dogs.
You were momentarily stunned by just how pretty his smile was. You were used to the tattoos on either side of his mouth and had developed a new appreciation for how they drew attention to full, pale lips, how they framed his straight teeth. Just yesterday you had noticed a dimple in his left cheek, most visible when his lips twitched into a soft smirk.
His beauty was only multiplying with each day. You had thought him to be rather cute the very first night you had seen him, albeit a little peculiar, but each time you had laid eyes on him since, he became so much more. You weren’t even sure if you could find the words to describe how soft and silky his platinum hair shone in the dim light of the bar, how kind his violet eyes – rimmed with indigo and flecked with lavender – glimmered when he gave you his undivided attention.
Honestly, it was getting distracting.
“Wait,” You broke out of your internal reverence, “What sort of training goes that late anyway? Aren’t these high school students?!”
Toge nodded – They're learning how to play baseball.
“Midnight baseball?!”
You never know when knowing how to play baseball in the dark will come in handy.
“You do realize that everything you tell me about your job seems absolutely ludicrous, yeah?”
His shoulders shook with laughter – I know. Just trust me.
It was so tempting to bite back, to whine that he was making it very difficult to put your faith in what was most certainly a bunch of lies. Though, your gut told you that he was a good guy, that he meant no harm. Your gut, or your heart? Your heart was known to be fooled by a pretty smile. You had even explicitly admitted the fact to Yuji.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me spray the floor mats down and then I’ll join you,” You wandered to the back of the bar, snagging the hose fixed to the wall and dragging the mats over the closest drain. Just as you began to wash the sturdy material, one of your favorite songs from your playlist began to blare over the speakers.
Grinning wildly, you began to move your body along with the music, the lyrics tumbling from your mouth before you could stop yourself. The tune was upbeat and catchy, perfect for dancing around an empty restaurant. So, maybe you indulged a little bit.
Soft laughter interrupted you mid-twirl.
“Toge! Don’t laugh at me!” Crossing your arms over your chest, you frowned at the man leaning against the doorway to the back of the bar.
He shook his head, lifting his palms up to express no ill-intent.
You huffed as you marched past him, back to the bar.
He caught your arm, a mischievous glint to his eyes.
Your song was only halfway done.
“Come on,” You tugged him behind the bar with you, relishing in the way his face went slack with surprise. “Dance with me!”
You had half expected him to shy away, to skulk back to his seat at the counter. However, ever the bag of surprises, he struck a pose with confidence. An old-school disco move that was so outdated it had you cackling in amusement. He beamed at your reaction, proceeding to bob his head to the music, bouncing on the balls of his feet, grooving to the music.
“YES!” With a joyous shout, you snagged his arm, lifting it up so you could spin beneath it.
Your voice echoing around the bar as you mimicked the vocals of the track, you lost yourself in the music, and Toge followed your lead. The two of you were all smiles as you jumped around behind the bar, swinging hips and pumping fists and making the goofiest of gestures. You busted out as many notoriously embarrassing dance moves you could think of – the robot, the shopping cart, the lasso. And Toge didn’t back down from the challenge, impressing you with his coordination in the Running Man and flaunting an impressive moonwalk despite the eternally sticky floor.
The song ended in an eruption of giggles, the two of you clutching your sides as you cramped.
The light of the liquor display caught on Toge’s cheek at the perfect angle, highlighting his cute little dimple.
He was watching you with such affection, making no moves to retreat to his spot at the counter.
“Why don’t you choose the next song?” You gestured to the tablet displaying your playlist, heart thrumming in anticipation.
Piano chords resonated through the speakers, slow and deliberate.
Transatlanticism by Death Cab For Cutie.
Your heart was beating so fast that it had sprouted wings and gotten stuck in your throat.
He extended a hand, his smirk confident and oh, so charming.
You fell into his arms with ease, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding the moment he pulled you against his chest. One hand settled on your hip, the other winding fingers between yours, lips dusting your knuckles.
Chills erupted across your skin, puckered gooseflesh an instant reaction to the longing in his intense gaze.
He led you in an easy slow dance, a slight sway that required no skill. You preferred it that way, anyway. Your attention was undivided, relishing in the way his tattoos curved as he smiled, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way his silvery bangs swept this way and that, disheveled from the previous round of energetic dancing.
Leaning into him, you could feel the flutter of his heart, his pounding pulse, every dry swallow as he unabashedly drank you in. His violet eyes seemed darker than usual, pupils wide and raking over your features, attempting to emote everything he wished to say but couldn’t.
“Did you choose this song for a reason?” You breathed, very familiar with the song, having catalogued it as one of the most romantic melodies you had ever heard.
His nod was subtle, but enough. Then, as the hook of the song began to echo, resonating through every red blood cell rushing through your veins, he ducked his head, placing his mouth close to your ear.
He hummed softly along to the lyrics.
It didn’t matter that he could not speak the words. The intention was there.
I need you so much closer.
And so, you complied, pressing yourself against him, feeling the tight, corded muscles of his torso hidden beneath his baggy sweater choice of the day. Your nose twitched against his neck, your senses overwhelmed by an earthy musk, accented by something floral, and the sharp sweetness of cherry.
His arms wound around your waist, holding you steady as you rocked back and forth. His breath ghosted against the shell of your ear, strands of soft platinum hair brushing your cheek.
You thought your ribs would break from the force of your heart, your hands trembling as you gently brushed the nape of his neck.
I need you so much closer.
The tension between you was building. You both knew what was going to happen next. Your bodies screamed in perfect harmony, begging for it.
“Can I,” Your breath caught in your throat. At your words, he pulled back his head. Your noses were nearly brushing. “Can I kiss you?”
In true Toge Inumaki fashion, he answered with actions, instead of words.
His lips were just as plump as they looked, soft and gentle as he pressed them against yours, a chaste test, dipping his toe into the water.
That was enough to send a flurry of fireworks across the black of your eyelids.
The following kiss, the instant capture of your lips between his, your mouths slotting together in synchronization, had you seeing white. Your ears were ringing, the steady beat of the song, the desperate croon of the vocals fading into the background as you melted into Toge’s embrace, your brain only capable of registering the careful ministrations of his lips, of his tongue as it brushed lightly against your bottom lip.
Your hands cupped his face, his skin so soft and warm. His fingers twisted into the hem of your shirt, as if he wanted to absorb you completely, devour you. There was not a millimeter of space between you, bodies flushed together, but it was not enough.
I need you so much closer.
The first thought your brain could piece together was simple. If you could only do one thing for the rest of your life, it would be kissing the handsome man wrapped around you. Easy.
You relished in the sweet tang of cherry that coated his tongue, the scent of soil and trees and a forest on a rainy day wrapping you in comfortable security. His every move, every twitch of his lips and flick of his tongue oozed with intent, with adoration, with attention. He was giving you his all, pouring all he wished to say into his movements.
You felt drunk, fully intoxicated on Toge, and all you could do was drink him in, hold him close, pray he wouldn’t pull away.
But alas, he did eventually, out of breath and dazed, gorgeous eyes wide and cheeks flushed pink.
You were sure you didn’t look much different.
“Wow,” Your voice came out in a squeak, even more blood rushing to your face.
He beamed, before sticking his tongue out playfully.
Holy shit.
How had you not noticed the ovular tattoo on his tongue as well?
Something stirred below your gut.
You pushed it away – Not now. Not yet.
He kissed you three times as he left the bar, tugging his scarf down to free his mouth after shrugging his jacket on and winding the long fabric around his neck.
Once on your forehead.
Once on your nose.
Once more on your lips, lingering just long enough.
***
“Can I be the only hope for you? Because you’re the only hope for me.”
- “The Only Hope for Me Is You // My Chemical Romance
You were anxiously awaiting Toge’s arrival.
He couldn’t come sooner, really.
Rolling your shoulders, you tried to crack your neck disappointed when the muscles protested, and your joints refused to pop. You had felt stiff all day, a weight on your shoulders grinding you into the ground.
You chalked it up to the poor sleep you had had the night before, the sheets tangling around your limbs as you tossed and turned in the moonlight. You had awoken more exhausted than ever before, dark circles under your eyes highlighting the nervous flicker of your pupils as you surveyed your surroundings in the bathroom mirror.
It had felt as though someone was watching you.
It wasn’t unusual for you to have mild panic attacks and bouts of anxiety on occasion, but it was strange for you to feel physically on edge all day. Everywhere you went, you felt as though there was a set of eyes – or multiple sets for that matter – hiding in the shadows of your peripheral.
Waiting.
You absently itched at your chest. It felt like you were strapped into a corset, your bones squeezing beneath a vice-like pressure. Breathing was difficult.
Not enough that you would consider going to the hospital, no. It was probably just an anxiety attack.
You had visited your grandmother in the hospital yesterday before work, and the uneasy feeling had grown since then. When you considered your general discomfort in places like hospitals, on top of the concern for your elderly relative, you thought that the nervous energy coursing through you seemed valid.
It would disappear in a day or so. You were sure of it.
That being said, you were fairly certain that Toge’s presence could ease your worries. You hadn’t seen him the last couple days, though he had texted you to let you know that he was simply busy with work, that he was thinking about you and would visit when he could.
You hoped that entailed today.
A light cough escaped your throat, forced from the weight on your lungs. You winced, palm over your heart as you tried once more to roll the burden off your shoulders.
You almost sobbed with relief when the door to the bar creaked open 5 minutes before close.
“Hi!” You tried to sound as cheery as possible.
Toge’s eyes widened in alarm, his hand flying up to tug down his scarf.
“Don’t move.”
The pressure around you increased tenfold, your body freezing in place. You wished to take a step forward, to rush into his arms, but you couldn’t. You felt as though you were cast in cement, a statue on display. Your fingers and toes were numb. You couldn’t feel them, your will to make them twitch, to confirm that you were indeed a living being with control over your body, vanishing into thin air.
Faster than you had ever seen anyone move, Toge darted forward, dodging the various tables arranged around the bar. As lithe and agile as a cat, he vaulted himself over the bar top, sneakers clearing the surface as if he was an Olympic high jumper.
The expression on his face had you terrified. Eyes glinting with murderous intent, lips contorted in a scowl, he glared at you.
No, he glared past you. At the space over your shoulders.
“Die.”
The moment the word rasped over his tongue and past his lips, there was an audible whoosh, the sound of air rushing into occupy freshly emptied space.
The following second had you splattered in a substance.
Hot.
Sticky.
Pungent.
Toge coughed, a trickle of red trailing from the corner of his mouth.
Violet eyes searched yours, concern replacing the anger that had shook you to your core. He took a tentative step forward, a trembling hand reaching for your face.
You weren’t sure what he saw in your expression. The concern was overlapped with sheer panic as he wrenched his hand back, tugging his scarf over his mouth once more.
He was out the door before you could find your voice.
And you were left covered in blood.
***
“Devil or angel, dear, whichever you are, I miss you.”
- “Devil or Angel” // Ezra Furman
The song crooned over the speakers, making your heart plummet into your stomach. You nodded meekly when a regular customer asked if you were alright. You passed them a refill.
Two weeks.
Two weeks since the incident, for lack of a better word. You weren’t sure how else to describe it. Something about Toge storming in, speaking real words, and splashing you in blood from who knows where screamed incident.
He hadn’t stopped by since.
He hadn’t answered your texts.
He seemed to have just vanished off the face of the earth.
And you had no idea what you had done wrong.
The logical part of your brain knew that he was withdrawing in response to his actions, that you hadn’t done anything (like, literally, you hadn’t even been able to react before he had left). You, of course, had so many questions, and he probably knew that he couldn’t face you before formulating answers.
You had to be patient.
At least, you hoped that patience would be enough.
“You look like something is bothering you.”
Lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t heard the door squeak as it opened across the room.
When you looked up – expecting to see an unfamiliar patron or a regular and definitely not Toge because it was the middle of the afternoon – you had to bite your tongue to stop from swearing. Loudly. As one does when they are suddenly face to face with a panda.
Or, you know, the person with the very realistic panda suit.
You weren’t sure how the mask functioned, but furry lips twisted into something that could be considered a grin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you.”
“No, no, it’s okay,” You recovered, desperately trying to calm your racing heart as you gushed the first words that came to mind, “Is Toge okay?”
The panda smirked, “ Oooo, first name basis, eh?” When you failed to laugh, he sighed, “Toge’s fine.”
An awkward silence fell over the bar. Perhaps it was only perceptible to the two of you, but as your one other customer flagged you down for their bill, you figured they could feel it too.
“We need to talk,” The panda said as soon as the bar was empty save for the two of you. It was 3pm on a Tuesday. You probably wouldn’t see much action until 5pm or so. “Think you could lock the door for a quick chat?”
You raised an eyebrow, “Why?”
“I’m about to tell you some things that best remain a secret to the general public.”
You stifled a snort. “At this point, I’m not even surprised. Is my mobster theory right? Is that what you all actually do for a living? Is Toge some hired gun?” You scrawled Lunch break, be back at 4pm on a piece of paper and taped it to the door, the lock clicking into place.
His hum in response was neither a denial nor an affirmation.
The panda person patted the bar stool next to him, and you found it rather unnerving that you were already used to his presence, to seeing a terrifyingly realistic panda in your vicinity.
“Do you need a drink for this conversation?” You gestured towards the liquor. Beer probably wasn’t strong enough. “It’s on me.”
“Sake would be nice. Thank you,” The panda nodded.
When you had slid onto the seat next to him, fully aware of the way his massive fluffy suit brushed against your arm, he started with a simple, “Do you believe in magic?”
“Magic,” You deadpanned, “Like, card tricks and optical illusions?”
He lifted a paw (?), scratching at his chin with a long claw (?). “ I thought it would be better to start broad, but maybe I should be more specific.”
“You’re about to tell me something ridiculous, aren’t you?” You rested your elbows on the bar and your head in your hands.
“You catch on quick.”
“Toge isn’t actually a teacher, is he?”
“No, he is,” The panda grinned, “At Jujutsu High. He teaches the first years who are learning to become Jujutsu sorcerers. You know, to save the world from curses, and such.”
You laughed, “Good one.”
“I’m serious.”
“Do...” You blinked, “Do I need a drink for this conversation?”
A shot of tequila later and you were crossing your arms over your chest, staring intently at the person in a panda suit.
“I need your word that this will remain between us, and, well, any other sorcerers you may meet. You can’t go around telling people about this,” He warned.
You scoffed, “Ah, yes, because I want to be known as the crazy bartender. We already have Ol’ Jerry on this block. We don’t need another.”
“Alright, then,” The panda began, “Cursed spirits, or curses, are malevolent spirits manifested from the cursed energy that is created due to human’s negative emotions. They are invisible to Non-Sorcerers and are the direct cause of the rising death rate, most notably in the last decade. There are a relatively small number of Jujutsu Sorcerers – people who have been born with, or have achieved, the ability to see and use cursed energy and cursed techniques – that are trained to exorcise the curses meddling with society. There are a handful of other schools, but Toge and me attended Jujutsu High as teens, along with the others that visited here a few weeks ago, and we now teach the new generations as staff members.”
You hung on to his every word, your brain processing the information at a mile per minute.
He continued, “Toge’s technique is cursed speech. His words are imbued with powerful curse energy that also takes a toll on his own body. He’s been able to use it since he was born. You can imagine how difficult it must have been for him to get it under control. People got hurt.”
Eyes widening, your chest ached in sympathy. The pieces were starting to fall into place.
Don’t move.
Die.
“In order to prevent unintentional harm to himself and others, Toge speaks in rice ball ingredients exclusively. It’s a coded language of sorts,” The panda explained.
Salmon.
Oh.
“Because of this, it’s hard for him to put himself out there and meet people outside of the Jujutsu world. I was surprised when he told me he had been visiting you, that he had been texting you. You never pried into why he chose not to speak around you, and I think he appreciated your genuine kindness regardless of him being a little... Well, odd to someone who doesn’t know the whole situation.”
Your heart hurt.
“...He...” You whispered, “He saved my life the other night, didn’t he?”
The panda nodded, “There was a grade 2 curse lingering around you. Nothing too serious, but its effect on you would have worsened with time. He acted immediately out of concern. He wanted to protect you, and then afterwards, he didn’t know where to even start explaining, especially when he couldn’t verbally communicate what was going on.”
You recalled the panic in his eyes, the way he had turned on his heel and disappeared before he could gauge your reaction. Had he been worried that you would be frightened? You had been. Frightened due to the situation, not him. You would have fallen into his arms and allowed him to type out an explanation. You would have waited even if it required paragraphs upon paragraphs in the notes of his phone.
“I need to thank him,” You murmured, gaze fixed on your hands in your lap.
The panda agreed, “He’ll be back, don’t worry. He just needs a bit of time.”
“I understand. Does he know you’re here?”
“No, but if I didn’t meddle occasionally, no one would ever get laid, you know?” He winked, ignoring your yelp of protest. His beady eyes softened, adding, “Toge’s a good guy. He’s kind, and always tries his best, ready to do anything for the people he cares about.”
“He’s amazing,” You breathed, your respect for the handsome blonde skyrocketing the more you discovered about him.
“And he likes you a lot, you know,” The panda nudged your shoulder with his bulky frame, “He didn’t stop talking about you for a week after we all went out, about how you moved with such joy and seemed so friendly. Plus, he has always had a thing for cute butts. Yuuta likes boobs, Toge likes butts, Maki would rather hit me instead of answer. Some things never change.”
Your face was tomato red, at this point.
The panda’s eyes flashed as he seemed to consider something, “Wait, how have you been communicating with him?”
“He types on his phone. Why does he use rice ball ingredients with you?”
“There’s no time when up against a threat to whip out his phone, nor in training for that matter. His code allows us to understand him when time is of the essence.”
“Hey, could you...” A grin split across your face as an idea wormed its way into your mind, “Could you teach me what his ingredients mean?”
***
“ Oh, since the day I saw you, I have been waiting for you. You know I will adore you ‘til eternity.”
- “Be My Baby” // Hey Ocean!
You stared at your phone screen, fingers thrumming against the counter of the bar. You scrolled through the history of your conversation with Toge.
- 2 weeks ago – bartender
Hope you’re doing okay! Thinking of you.
- 1 week ago – bartender
Picked up some rice balls for the bar. Come get them while they’re fresh!
- 3 days ago – bartender
Heard a Muse song on the radio that reminded me of you. Definitely worthy of your mission playlist.
- 11:36am – Toge Inumaki
Hey, are you working tonight?
- 12:31pm – bartender
Yep! Until close.
- 9:48pm – Toge Inumaki
Be there in 5 minutes.
It had been 3 minutes since you had received the message. The bar was empty, as per usual for being so close to locking up on a Monday night, and you were practically erupting with nerves and anxiety.
2 more minutes.
What were you even supposed to say to him? Should you tell him that his friend had visited without him knowing, that he had explained everything? Should you apologize for not having reacted quickly enough to his exorcism weeks ago?
No, you had nothing to apologize for, and that would make him feel like you feared him. That would hit him where it hurt most.
1 more minute.
You inhaled deeply, wringing your hands, attempting to steady yourself as a shadow appeared over the frosted glass of the front door.
You would recognize his silhouette anywhere.
Toge Inumaki stepped into your bar, in a big sweater and a scarf around his mouth like all those other nights.
Except this time, he clutched a jasmine plant, white petals glowing against deep evergreen leaves, tumbling over the side of the clay pot like he had overestimated the amount that could fit into the container.
As he stepped closer, you recognized the scent of the flowers as the floral hint that always surrounded him. He must have grown them himself. It must be a cutting of his very own jasmine vines.
He was giving you a piece of himself.
Your throat squeezed in warning. You were going to cry.
He raised his pretty eyes to yours, making his way to the bar top, slow and steady. The emotion in the lavender freckled irises spoke volumes.
You had to say something. You couldn’t just stand there silently. You had to speak.
So, you said the first thing that came to mind.
“Kelp,” You croaked, forcing the sound through the feelings crushing your windpipe.
He stopped mid-step; an audible gasp muffled from his scarf. There was a beat of silence before he spoke carefully, “...Mustard leaf?”
The urge to cry dissolved into hysterical giggles. “Salmon,” You nodded. “Mustard leaf?”
“Salmon,” He echoed, rounding the bar with the same disorienting speed he had displayed when he had exorcised your curse. He lifted the potted plant, eyes squinting in happiness as he chimed, “Tuna tuna.”
You laughed, taking the flowers from his hands and placing them on the counter. “They’re beautiful, thank you.”
Moving closer to you he reached for your waist, murmuring softly, “Tuna mayo.”
Your felt the warmth course through your body as you recognized one of his terms that had more than one meaning. His favorite. Endearment.
You closed the gap, burying yourself into his sweater and scarf, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your nose into his shoulder. He reacted instantly, holding you close, one arm around your waist and the other cradling the back of your head as you melted into each other. He craned his neck, effectively pushing down his scarf to pepper the sensitive skin beneath your jaw with a flurry of kisses, communicating everything he wished to say with his touch.
You carded your fingers through his silky hair as he pulled away from you. Staring into his vibrant eyes, so full of adoration, you thought that if you were to die then, you would die happy.
Without breaking eye contact, you gently tugged his scarf from the lower half of his face, your thumbs brushing against the twin circles on each cheek. “Thank you for saving me,” You breathed, watching a flush of pink tint the shell of his ears.
“Bonito flakes” He answered sheepishly.
“Thank you, ” You insisted before the hint of regret and shame took over his features. He looked so happy. You wouldn’t take that away from him. “Thank you, Toge. You’re amazing.”
You thought you heard him whine, overwhelmed by the praise, but you were too busy kissing him to care. He leaned into your touch, holding you like you were something special, something he wanted to protect and guard and treasure. And the heat that bubbled through your veins confirmed that you felt the exact same way. Perhaps he could defend you against things that were incomprehensible to you, but you would do anything in your power to help him anyway possible. Even if it was simple reassurance and validation, you would be there.
His lips twitched into a smile as he kissed you, a breathy chuckle ghosting over your mouth. The weight that had disappeared from your shoulders had left you giddy with relief, and Toge seemed to share the sensation. He leaned his forehead against yours as you giggled, “Why do you taste like cherry, anyway?”
He squirmed in your embrace, stubbornly shaking his head when you went to remove your arms so he could move freely. He snaked his arm between the two of you, lifting a small bottle.
Cough syrup.
You remembered how he had bled after using his technique to help you.
Ouch.
Clearly dissatisfied by your resounding frown, he was quick to snag your lips once more, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth to make you laugh. He planted soft kisses over the entirety of your face – on the tip of your nose, on the crease between your brows, on the apples of your cheeks. You understood that he was telling you it was fine, that he was telling you not to worry.
This stupid, selfless man, willing to shred his throat to save others.
You went to attach your lips once more, a squeak of protest slipping from the back of your throat as he covered every inch of your face with affection. Though, he straightened up before you could taste him again, a sudden thought apparent in his violet eyes.
Frowning in confusion, he retrieved his cell phone from his pocket, swiftly typing out a message – Wait, how do you understand me?
Whoops.
You raised your shoulders to your ears, eyes darting to the ceiling.
He chuckled softly – I’m gonna kill Panda.
Though, if the tenderness of his kiss had anything to say about it, Panda would be receiving a neatly wrapped bento box of fresh rice balls outside his office door in the morning.