“Stop that.” You push Satoru away when he tries to climb on top of you, causing an unpleasant groan to leave his lips when you deny his affection. “Why?” He dramatically crosses his arms, putting up a faux act of dejection.

Satoru knows why. You both were the typical best friends before you started dating, always teasing and calling each other names, always grunting with disgust whenever the other got too close, always pushing away those strange feelings stirring up inside your chest whenever you both were together—typical best friends.

But even after that one night when you stared at each other for too long to be just best friends, when you made out way too passionately to be just best friends, when you both held each other too close to be just best friends, you’re still so adamant on treating him like one. Being able to hold him whenever you want, kiss him whenever you want, call each other those lovey-dovey pet names.. It all felt weird, foreign, and wrong.

Sometimes Satoru wondered what he was to you, that maybe dating was just a label to you. People would have to look twice to confirm if you really are dating, too caught up in the way you’re always bro-zoning him. Satoru respects your space, or, respected your space.

“We’re dating, y’know.” Satoru murmurs, as if a reminder that he’s yours now, and you’re his. He takes your phone out of your hand, gently prying your crossed arms apart so he can rest his chin on your collarbone.

He’s not convinced when you whisper back a shy i know. A pout forming on his face as he nuzzles softly into your neck, his voice muffled by your skin. “You don’t treat me like we’re dating.” He keeps you in his hold, his fingers gripping your waist a little tighter than usual. “Is it so hard to say baby instead of bro?” His pout deepend, gruffing as he lifts his head up to stare into your eyes—with pure adoration.

“Kiss me ‘n prove it, please?”