Osamu's love language was food.

Really, really good food.

He'd make you homemade chocolates for Valentine's Day, take you on fancy picnics, and even bring an extra bento every day with only your favorite foods. Just for you.

It was a regular Thursday at Inarizaki High when you felt an arm snake around your waist, the familiar scent of Osamu's cologne filling your senses.

"Did ya' like the bento today?" Osamu asked casually, taking a bite of the onigiri in his hand.

You were the one thing the boy cherished and, genuinely, loved more than anything.