babysitting wasn’t exactly what you had planned for the night.

yet, here you were, in his dorm, again–your coat half off, your curses half suppressed, and your patience hanging by the thinning thread of your restraint.

“you’re late,” satoru called out, sprawled across his couch like a greek statue with a sugar addiction. there was a half eaten bag of gummies balanced on his chest, a soda can on the floor, and a grin way too smug for you to handle right now.

“you told me to come over at nine.”

“and it’s nine-thirty.”

you stared at him. took a slow breath. really tried not to kick his teeth in. “you handed off your special grade curse to me,” you said, your voice stretched thin with barely holding on patience. his grin grew. “you survived.”

you raised your brow. “did you want me to?”

he laughed–that same laugh that grated on your nerves and made you want to kiss him stupid at the same time, like he’d never taken anything seriously in his life.

except you. sometimes. maybe. but never when it actually counted.

you kicked off your shoes, ignoring the way he watched the movement like he was counting how many layers he’d have to peel off you later. typical. you could still feel the heady rush of adrenaline coursing through you, making you even more alert than usual, and you knew he could tell. that he was trying to think of ways to take advantage of it. he always did.

“so..” you started, arms folded, “are you going to keep playing the part of emotionally unavailable toddler with Infinity, or are we going to talk like adults tonight?”

he mock gasped. “excuse you. I’m a man. a sexy, powerful, national treasure of a man.”

“you’re a manchild with a god complex and the EQ of a damp towel,” you deadpanned.

“ouch.” he sat up slowly, pulling off his blindfold just enough for you to see the gleam in his ocean eyes. his lashes fluttered–deliberate. “but accurate.”

the worst part was–he knew. he knew how exhausting it was to love someone who couldn’t stop performing long enough to be honest. he knew it drove you up the wall when he joked instead of listened, disappeared instead of communicate, gave you everything but a name for whatever this was.

and you knew he’d keep doing it–because he could. because you let him.

“you know,” you said, tone soft but edged, like a guillotine dropping down like a verdict, “one day I’m not going to come back.”

his smile faltered, but only just.

“one day,” you continued, stepping close enough to read for the gummy bag and pluck one out, “you’ll push too far. say too little. smile too wide. and I’ll stop forgiving you for being a manchild just because you’re scared of being a man.”

he looked up at you like you’d cursed him. maybe you did. you tasted sugar and something bitter on your tongue. something that felt a lot like resignation.

“I’ll miss you,” he said, soft. the first honest thing he’d said tonight.

“no,” you said quietly. “you’ll miss having me.”

a beat.

then he grinned. wicked and carefree and a complete lie, but it was so Satoru, it hurt. “but you’re still here.”

“unfortunately.”

“you like me.”

“unfortunately.”

“you’re in love with me.”

you turned away. “let me know when you’re grown enough to deserve it.”