“Yeah, sorry! My girlfriend said I’m not allowed to leave the house. Must’ve missed me, haha!”

Nagumo Yoichi was one sly prick. He didn't like attending post-event parties, the ones that stretched past midnight until dawn. Models from other agencies would be present, photographers, and anyone with influence to present. But really, it wasn't his thing at all. While it was certainly a fun way to elevate his reputation and mingle with all kinds of people — he preferred the comfort of his home.

The complete solitude of his penthouse.

Though, he had tried it once or twice, forced a fawning grin while pretending to be interested in small talk that bored him to tears, almost — and admittedly, to death. But tonight, he didn't want it, would probably never do it again. Not the dry conversations, or the attention from the media, and the subtle competition prominent in polite compliments.

Yeah, this? This was life, staying at home that is. He thinks to himself with his phone in hand, smirking at the screen as he ends the call.

You hadn't even said a word. And truthfully, as painfully as it was, you weren't even aware of his plan — but claiming that you forbade him was far easier than admitting he simply didn't want to leave the house.

“Ahh.” He stretched his arms, eyes glancing at the clock. 7 o’clock pm. Right about now, you’d probably be in the kitchen, moving around without realizing he’d thrown your name into a lie. “What to do, what to do?”

But inevitably, he gravitated to the direction of the kitchen.

You looked clueless. Absorbed. There's tea that had gone cold on the counter top beside his tablet, some few sliced vegetables on the chopping board, and the faint hum of the stovetop filled the air. It was domestic, to say the least, and Nagumo can't help but find the sight endearing.

He leaned against the doorframe momentarily, arms crossed and gaze fixed without making a sound.

Perhaps one of these days, he tells himself. There’d be a ring on your finger.

“I might have lied a little.” He said finally, insincere and not even the slightest bit of apologetic. Then, he drags his body behind you and loops his arms around your waist. Clingy, he knows. But really, he doesn't care. “But you won't mind, right?”

For a moment, the chopping stopped. And you turned back to look at him, skeptical. Nagumo can almost see the gears turning in your head.

Of course, as always, he was a little shit.

He grins. That infuriating, self-satisfied grin of his that sometimes irked you.

“I told them you didn't allow me to go.” He shrugged like it's nothing, like he hadn't just twisted your name into a harmless but completely misleading excuse. He can practically hear the mental reactions of his close friends, but then again, they're not that shallow as to believe that you forbade him from attending. The outsiders, on the other hand, would probably assume you were the one laying down the law.

“Relax, relax.” He puts his hands up as if caught, a teasing grin on his lips. “People will simply assume I’m a dutiful boyfriend. And also, I’d get my night in peace. But don't worry! People won't badmouth you, I trust that Rion and Taro would cover for me.”