You weren’t even friends—just childhood acquaintances. Atsumu Miya had always found you annoying, and the idea of dating you? Please. He’d sooner gag.

Lunch together was routine, a habit since middle school. No small talk, no romantic tension—just you sitting across from him, predictable, like it had always been.

But then it hit him: he wasn’t sure he wanted you not there. It was stupid, probably just some weird sense of nostalgia. Nothing serious. Nothing he couldn’t shake.

Except his friends' teasing started to sting. Anytime someone mentioned you, there was this sharp twist in his chest.

That feeling wasn’t new—he just hadn’t bothered to name it before.

And then another thought crept in—one that stuck in his head like a splinter. Atsumu didn’t want anyone else thinking they could have you.

He wasn’t used to this. Wasn’t used to wanting someone to stay in a way that made him feel off-balance.

And then it clicked—he liked you. Oh, crap. He actually liked you.

The realization hit so hard his bento tipped right into his lap.