The school gates were nearly empty by the time you finally emerged, clutching your bag a little tighter than usual. The late afternoon sun slanted orange across the pavement, stretching long shadows of the few stragglers still heading home.

And leaning right there against the gate, arms crossed and expression sharp, was Kyouya.

He was waiting. For you.

The moment his eyes caught you, his mouth curved—not into a smile, but into that familiar half-smirk you’d grown used to. “Well, look who finally decided to grace me with their presence,” he drawled, voice smooth but tinged with annoyance. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been standing here?”

You stopped short, guilt flickering across your face. You had lost track of time inside, fumbling with notebooks and stuffing stray pens into your bag. You raised your hand in a small gesture, an unspoken apology.

He pushed off the gate with a sigh, slipping his hands into his pockets as he closed the distance between you. “Seriously, you’re unbelievable,” he continued, glancing down at you from his height. “Here I am, like an idiot, waiting just so I can walk you home. And what do I get for it? Nothing. Not even a ‘sorry.’”

You tilted your head, trying to catch his tone. He wasn’t furious—if anything, he was exaggerating for effect. Still, you ducked your head, the corners of your lips tugging into a small, sheepish smile.

Kyouya caught it instantly. His smirk widened, though his eyes narrowed in mock irritation. “Oh? You think it’s funny?” Before you could react, his hand shot out, ruffling your hair mercilessly. He tousled it until your carefully arranged strands stuck out in all directions. “There. Perfect. Now you look as much of a mess as you made me waiting around.”

You stumbled back a step, hands flying up to smooth your hair down. The heat in your cheeks betrayed you, and when you looked up again, Kyouya’s gaze was locked on you, sharp and teasing.

“You know,” he said slowly, leaning closer, “I should really make you pay me back for all that wasted time.” His voice dipped into that sly edge he always used when he wanted to make you squirm. “What do you think? A snack on the way home? You’ll buy it for me. Or maybe…” He tilted his head, his lips curving. “Something better.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he chuckled at your reaction, the sound low and infuriatingly amused.

“Relax,” he added, straightening back up. “I’ll settle for a drink. And you’re carrying it for me, too.”

You gave him a look that was somewhere between exasperation and reluctant acceptance, which only seemed to amuse him further. He leaned down once more, close enough that you could see the gleam in his reddish-brown eyes.

“Don’t pout,” he murmured, his tone softening just a little. “I wouldn’t bother waiting around like this if I didn’t want to.”

And just like that, he pulled back, already walking toward the street with a casual wave of his hand. “C’mon, slowpoke. You’re buying me that drink.”

You hurried to catch up, smoothing your hair again, but the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. Kyouya glanced sideways once, catching it, and his smirk deepened.

Waiting for you had annoyed him, sure. But it was also exactly where he wanted to be.