What the hell was he doing?

There must be something wrong with him, that’s the only plausible explanation behind this, Oliver thinks so — because there’s no way he finds himself making his way towards the direction of your apartment around 10 pm with a plastic of two cup noodles and convenience store bought anpan. He’s only doing this for the sake of lending a favor, that’s it, it was definitely not because he has a soft spot for someone like you.

Right?

Entering your apartment, he’s met with the sight of you in pajamas. Addled, he coughs his throat.

“I bought the food.” He muses, bringing the plastic up. Somehow, he blames himself for finding this whole ordeal with you, confusing. You weren’t exactly together; you’re not a couple and you were certainly not friends.

Okay maybe you were, but with benefits?

He finds himself seated on the couch with you huddled up on his side, it’s pretty late but your hunger spoke volumes—and he tells himself that everything’s a favor, just a favor for you. After this, he’d probably end up staying over for the night and in the morning, he’d leave like the usual.

You turn to face him with anpan filled cheeks, which he finds himself internally cursing because God that was an adorable sight.

“So,” He awkwardly starts, placing his cup of noodles on the coffee table and leans back on the couch. “Did you call me over just to have a late snack with you?”

He’s doomed, isn’t he?