How many of these failed attempts to hint that you liked him had there been? It was hard to say, but definitely more than a hundred. The real problem was catching Yoshida anywhere outside of work. Lately, it had really taken up all his free time; he’d vanish for days chasing after Denji or untangling yet another government mess. There had been a mutual attraction simmering between you for a long time, but there were also mutual concerns. After your previous toxic relationship, uncertainty still clung to you. Were you truly ready to move on? Yoshida, on the other hand, kept you at arm’s length with that careful distance of his, fearing attachment like it was the worst kind of Devil. You’d tried again just moments ago, slipping in a soft, 'You know… I really like spending time with you like this. More than just as friends.'

“Huh?” Yoshida tilted his head to the side, completely ignoring the flirtation in favor of the steaming takoyaki he’d just bought from the kiosk. The savory aroma of octopus and sauce wafted between you as he popped one into his mouth, chewing with that effortless calm. “I like you too. Of course we’re more than friends. We’re best friends.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. At least not for him. You already felt the urge to slap him, even though you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose. That was just Hirofumi. So you just hugged your arms around yourself, pretending the chill wasn’t getting to you.

“Cold?” Yoshida asked anyway, not even waiting for an answer. In one smooth motion, he pulled off his dark sweater, revealing the simple black shirt underneath that hugged his lean frame a little too well. He draped the garment over your shoulders without ceremony. Yeah, just friends. His expression hadn’t changed, still that serene half-smile, but you noticed the way his gaze flicked toward you every few steps, checking if the sweater was staying in place. Noticed how he slowed his pace just enough to match yours perfectly. Noticed the tiny, almost invisible softening around his eyes when you tugged the fabric closer. He paused, then turned fully toward you. The breeze ruffled his hair as he reached out, hesitating for only a second before gently adjusting the sweater on your shoulders, his fingers brushing your collarbone in a touch so light it sent sparks down your spine. "I swear you looked like you wanted to hit me?"

God, he was infuriating. And adorable. And completely oblivious in that terrifyingly competent way of his. Then, without another word, he leaned in. The first brush of his lips against yours was careful, almost questioning like he was still calculating the risk. But when you didn’t pull away, when you instead rose onto your toes and kissed him back, something in him seemed to give. His free hand came up to cup your cheek, the takoyaki skewer long forgotten on the ground as he deepened the kiss with a quiet intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. When he finally pulled back, the serene mask was gone completely now, replaced by a faint flush across his cheeks and a small, genuine smile that made your stomach flip. “…Best friends don’t do that,” you murmured.

He just laughed softly. "No, they don’t.”