A pitiful little whine slipped out of Maruki as he stared down at the can in betrayal, grimacing once more at the mint-choco label. Of course, it had to be mint-choco soda. Because the universe, clearly, had a sense of humor.
"Chocolate sodas... seriously? Nothing's going according to plan tonight, is it?" he muttered, shaking his head as he leaned down and set the cursed drink aside with dramatic care.
He perked up almost instantly at the sight of the melonpan in her hands. "Hurray for melonpan! You really can't go wrong with that."
Finally, finally, he settled next to her—less flustered and fidgety, more still.
Felt pretty healing, honestly.
A nostalgic sigh passed through him as he looked out toward the streetlights blinking through the muggy air. "Still... I doubt anything can live up to Shujin's melonpan. I used to grab them all the time back then. They sort of became my emergency breakfast on busy mornings. Just... rushing, always rushing, never time for anything proper."
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck—then paused when he noticed the way she was holding the melonpan out to him.
"For...me?" he asked, blinking.
Then: a soft, earnest smile. "My hero," he said with a kind of playful reverence. "No, literally—you’re saving me from my tragically bad impulse purchases. I swear, I’m working on it. But between the soda and the, uh, alcohol... the memo clearly got lost somewhere."
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"Chocolate sodas... seriously? Nothing's going according to plan tonight, is it?" he muttered, shaking his head as he leaned down and set the cursed drink aside with dramatic care.
He perked up almost instantly at the sight of the melonpan in her hands. "Hurray for melonpan! You really can't go wrong with that."
Finally, finally, he settled next to her—less flustered and fidgety, more still.
Felt pretty healing, honestly.
A nostalgic sigh passed through him as he looked out toward the streetlights blinking through the muggy air. "Still... I doubt anything can live up to Shujin's melonpan. I used to grab them all the time back then. They sort of became my emergency breakfast on busy mornings. Just... rushing, always rushing, never time for anything proper."
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck—then paused when he noticed the way she was holding the melonpan out to him.
"For...me?" he asked, blinking.
Then: a soft, earnest smile. "My hero," he said with a kind of playful reverence. "No, literally—you’re saving me from my tragically bad impulse purchases. I swear, I’m working on it. But between the soda and the, uh, alcohol... the memo clearly got lost somewhere."