Work Text:
Toshiro sits in his office after hours, left alone in the whole building, staring at the plastic container Laios has handed him at lunch.
He started doing this, bringing Toshiro home-cooked food, a few weeks ago. He approached the accountant while he was on his third smoke break that day and asked, blunt:
“Hey, Toshiro. Why are you always here? Don’t you want to eat lunch?”
Toshiro had looked at him tiredly. Of course he wanted to eat lunch. But that would chew away at his precious time even more than sitting outside, smoking and drinking coffee.
Maybe he should be honest and straight-forward for once, like Laios told him.
“I don’t have the time. And I’m not good at cooking anyway.”
“Aw, but eating is not something you do in your free time!” Laios gasped and plopped down next to him, leaning to look into his face, animated as per usual. “You know what? I’m pretty good at cooking! I make meals for myself and made them for Falin, maybe I can make some for you, too!”
Toshiro told him that he didn’t need to go this far. Laios just swatted his hand around and said, “Yeah-yeah, but it’s no trouble, really!”
The very next day, Laios handed him a container full of pasta with white, cheesy sauce. Toshiro sighed, hiding it away. He couldn’t bring himself to even open it. Not only he couldn’t eat cheese, but he just didn’t like how it looked, sloppy and gross in the see-through plastic.
The following day, he returned Laios an empty, clean box with an apologetic smile, telling him: Sorry, I can’t eat dairy. I couldn’t eat it.
Laios responded with a shrug, simply giving him another container in exchange for the empty one.
This has continued ever since then. Laios would give Toshiro food and he wouldn’t eat it for one reason or another: the smell, the looks, being allergic, not liking the ingredients in general. But mostly it was the unfamiliarity. It was a lot more familiar to just go hungry all day, smoke, and eat seafood flavoured cup noodles at home.
Today is different, though.
Laios has handed him the box with a smile, not deterred still, by the fact that Toshiro kept throwing away his food or giving it to one of his other coworkers.
“I remember you told me that you ate these as a kid. I tried making some. Hope you like it!” He shoved it into Toshiro’s hands and quickly left to eat his own lunch. The accountant just smoked and returned to his office.
Now, after hours, he finally became hungry enough to at least check what was inside. When he unclasps the lid, he is greeted by four big rice balls. Laios made onigiri.
This is strike three for Toshiro.
Strike one was just after their stupid fight in the parking lot. They had a conflict brewing for weeks at this point, both put on the same project, Laios as a lead and Toshiro as support on the financial side. Laios was a newbie, but he took the reins with this, confident and loud, getting so informal with the client it was starting to piss Toshiro off, who was already under a huge workload and now he had to stress over this fool’s antics too.
They fought, Toshiro too tired, hungry and drunk to stop the emotions that were spilling, overflowing out of him. After that, they sat on the curb outside the bar, staring at the rare cars passing them by on the dark road.
“You know, Laios. I’m jealous of how earnest you are. Maybe that’s why I’m the accountant and not the salesperson,” he sighs, not looking at him, preferring to learn the pattern of the pavement below his feet. “You can do the project your way. But… Give me your phone.”
After Laios handed it to him with a confused look, Toshiro opened contacts and put in his number, labeling it Toshiro, accountant.
“Call me if you need help with explaining the financial side during the presentation. This is for emergencies only. Everything else should still go through e-mail, got it?”
He could only smile slightly at Laios as he enthusiastically shook his head. But Toshiro shouldn’t have trusted this airhead with such precious things.
Next day Laios started messaging him, on his day off, things like how are you? Does your head hurt? If you need anything tell me, sorry for beating you up as if Toshiro wasn’t the one who dragged them out outside in frustration, wanting to talk like real men . Laios started sending him silly memes, mostly animal focused. Toshiro didn’t respond.
On Monday morning, while he was walking from the metro station to the office building, Laios sent him another picture: a cup of coffee and a box of donuts, a post-it note on the coffee saying: Thanks for accounting on me ;)
Answering lol was the first mistake in this chain of events.
He sat there, staring at the coffee and the donuts. It was from his favourite café nearby, and the donuts had matcha cream filling with a strawberry drizzle on top. Toshiro dug into them, hungry, even though he ate at home. He looked at the post-it for a while too, before finally breaking and hiding it in his drawer. Was he this sentimental? About that goof, of all people? Toshiro couldn’t stop a small smile from appearing on his face again.
Strike two was the day of presenting their project. Toshiro sat in his office, unable to do any work: he was too nervous that something might go wrong, that Laios would fuck something up, that he’ll need to explain the financial side any minute now and he would also fuck it up, too nervous for public speaking. He was worrying his lip and tugging out separate hairs from his ponytail.
He was startled by the call, picking it up immediately, clearly not ready for what was awaiting him, his face a nervous mess.
“Hey! I just wanted to finally introduce you to Mrs. Schulz! Mrs. Schulz, this is Mr. Nakomoto. He was my biggest support during this project, he helped with everything he could on the financial side, I couldn’t have done it without his professionalism, work ethic and extensive knowledge!”
Toshiro looked into the camera for a second, amazed, eyes wide open. He was being given credit? He was thanked? He wasn’t just some tool in Laios’ arsenal, to be used for the time he had to secure this deal? Nobody did this for Toshiro, not even his own father. He was usually just thrown into those projects, did all the calculations, all this hard work, and then, in the best-case scenario, he’d be mentioned in passing.
Toshiro couldn’t stop himself from blushing, but then he pulled himself together to finish this talk with a straight face.
As soon as the call ended, he face-planted into the table, hand on his head, breathing heavily, feeling panicked.
This was too nice. Toshiro wasn’t used to this kind of kindness, how well-intentioned Laios was. He preferred to stay a shadow, but he pulled him out and thanked him and let everyone know about the hard work he did.
He felt a sharp pang in his chest at that. Was it the stress?
Now, Toshiro is looking at the onigiri sitting in the plastic container. They are just on the wrong side of too big, rice clumps falling away into the box already. But this is familiar. He knows what this is and he knows that he loves eating them.
He grabs one with both hands and tries to take a bite. Toshiro can barely fit it into his mouth, some rice crumbling into the container and some sticking to his face. Even with his little taken off he can already smell the filling: tuna with mayo. He smiles. This is pretty basic, but he likes it, so he can’t complain.
Toshiro takes another bite. The ball falls apart even more, but at least he’s got some filling in his mouth now. There is too much mayo for his taste, but honestly, he loves it. Why is he enjoying this so much? It is just onigiri, the most basic dish he ate at home.
Then it hits Toshiro. This is the first food Laios made that he can actually eat, that he doesn’t have any problem. It didn’t look good, but he was tempted to eat it anyway, which he did. Memories flood Toshiro’s mind once again. Memories of Maizuru packing his lunch on the rare days he could actually go to school when he wasn’t sick, of opening up his bento box and seeing the small, carefully made, basically perfect rice balls. He would sit by himself and eat them, awfully hungry, like it was the very first meal he had in forever. Toshiro would stuff his face full and sit back, feeling good, feeling loved .
As he chews at the rice in his mouth, he feels the same thing. He feels loved again, for some reason. There’s food all around his lips and there are tears threatening to spill because of this feeling. He feels a sharp pang in his chest again and sobs , finally overwhelmed.
Laios wanted the best for Toshiro. He wanted to see him healthy, he wanted to see him sated and happy. And he was undeterred by how cold the accountant was, how he just wouldn’t really react to anything he did. But Laios made him cry just now, made tears fall into the container, marring the other three rice balls.
He doesn’t put down the onigiri in his hands to wipe away the mess on his face. Toshiro wolfs it down, feeling awfully hungry now, compared to the usual low hum of his stomach that started after his non-existent lunch. He bites a large chunk out of it, too big for his mouth and tries chewing it, while his body is shaking from the sudden emotion. This was too much for his poor, weak heart.
That stab he felt in his chest. That was definitely not stress this time.
Is he falling for this airhead? Is he falling in love with Laios? This couldn’t be actually happening. Toshiro didn’t think he could really fall in love that quickly. The only other time was Laios’ sister and he wasn’t even sure if it was a legitimate crush, just a passing thing, a fleeting feeling of strange endearment.
He feels even more tears drip into the box as he finishes the onigiri. Toshiro is. He for sure is falling in love. He doesn’t want to, he doesn’t know how to deal with it, how to deal with this feeling that is clawing at him from the inside. This was too real.
Toshiro covers his face with his hands, sobs wracking him. There’s rice and tuna everywhere: on his fingers, on his nose and chin, on his desk, on the floor. What a mess! But this wasn’t important, with how messy Toshiro is feeling on the inside. He can’t just fall in love with his stupid coworker, this would end horribly. He should keep it in his heart, hidden away, freeze it over. But he can’t do it, not right now, overcome with emotion and memories and softness.
Why did Laios treat him so nicely? Why did he keep giving Toshiro these meals, why did he keep trying to lift his spirits with funny images, with his favourite coffee? He was probably just trying to be friendly, he was like this with everyone, right? Toshiro isn’t special. He’s just an accountant, just his colleague.
He tries to calm himself down. It feels impossible. The tears keep overflowing and dripping into the container as he grabs another rice ball with trembling hands.
“So, how was it?” Laios takes the empty box fromToshiro on the following day. He averts his gaze, a blush creeping into his sunken cheeks.
“They were too big and falling apart…”
“Oof, sorry-“
“…But I ate them all. I loved it. Thank you. Just work on your technique,” he smiles at Laios, weak. It’s embarrassing to admit that this is the first time he finished anything the man made.
“Oh!” Laios’ eyes lit up. It makes Toshiro blush even more. “I’m so glad! I’ll try making them more often, then. What fillings do you like most?”
Toshiro looks back, awkward, but his heart fluttering at how earnest Laios is, how eager to please, to make him happy.
“Salt marinated salmon and mushrooms,” he murmurs in response, feeling the pain in his chest once again, but paying it no mind this time.