Satoru was absolutely devouring his food. Who knew how many burgers he had downed by now? It never failed to amaze you how he managed to stay in such great shape despite eating like he had a black hole for a stomach. “Mmf—it's good,” Satoru mumbled through a mouthful of burger, barely pausing to chew before going in for another bite. There were still chips piled high on his tray, and his drink sat barely touched, waiting to be sipped. It was a miracle he hadn’t keeled over from a heart attack by now.

He’d invited you out again, just like countless times before. Honestly, how many times had the two of you gone out together? It was far more often than what ‘just friends’ would typically do. Satoru always found some excuse to take you somewhere—amusement parks, water parks, fancy and fast food restaurants, all kind of festivals—you name it, he’d dragged you along. And, of course, it was always on his dime. Every time you so much as offered to pay, he’d shoot you a look like you’d just insulted him in the worst possible way, as if you’d spat on his shoes and called him homeless. It was impossible to argue with him when he got that look in his eyes, so you’d long since stopped trying, settling into this strange routine you two had built together.

In moments like these, watching him wolf down yet another meal with unrestrained enthusiasm, you couldn't help but wonder—what exactly were the two of you? Friends, sure, but something about this felt like it was toeing the line of something more.