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When he sees her, the innate urge to ignore her becomes increasingly apparent.
Not so much because he doesn’t want to be around her, but more so because he doesn’t feel particularly interested in being verbally accosted at 10 pm at night, especially considering the day he had.
In all actuality, he would’ve preferred to be in the comfort of his poorly decorated, minimalist bachelor pad, using the sound of the city as a backdrop for the deafening volume of his own pessimism.
To some extent, he thinks he deserves it. An opportunity to wallow in his own discomfort. All things considered, he's been through a lot of shit, it's only fair that he's entitled to bitch about it for a little while.
He believes this to incredible extents. So much so that he even considers turning right back around, out the door and shooting her a shitty apology text, opting for a rain check with no real intention of seeing If she’d ever respond.
But when she glanced up from her cigarette and flashed him a lazy smile, he knew that being anywhere but with her would be a great disservice to himself.
So he instead walked over, swallowing both his pride and prior plans to instead sit with in her company.
Sitting right next to her, utilizing the space of the booth and ignoring the chair situated opposite of her.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, an attempt to better mimic the nonchalant, borderline disinterest being exuded by her,
“No coat and turtleneck? You look half normal Sho.”
Shoko smirked stubbing her cigarette into the dish that had been so graciously provided by their server.
“And you brushed your hair this morning. You look half decent Satoru.”
He laughed, sitting down in her personal space that she offered to him without hesitation. She looked relaxed, well as relaxed as she possibly could be considering her line of work.
Her hair was still in a ponytail, demonstrating her professionalism to a fault. But still abandoning her blinding white coat and the overbearing scent of bleach and latex gloves for instead wearing jeans and cable knit sweater.
It was cold, sure, he could admit that, but the temperatures were dancing on the lines of the low fifties. He wasn’t quite sure a sweater of that size was completely warranted.
He swore to god she was anemic or something.
Still, she looked oddly at peace. Cute even. He’d never tell her that though. He didn’t feel like getting slapped.
It wasn’t so much that Shoko hated compliments or any comment pertaining to her in a positive manner, it was more so that she was just unable to find the genuineness of it all.
Always under the assumption that it was teasing at her expense.
She was odd like that.
“You’re energetic. Speaking in full sentences and whatnot.”
“Ooh” She placed his hand over her chest, feigning offense. “You're such a dick Satoru.” She laid her head on the table peeking up at him dramatically through her bangs.
His hand comfortably sat on her chest, resting against the softness of her sweater.
“You’ll be alright. You’ve said worse.”
She smirked and dropped his hand, somehow finding its way in her lap.
“Not to you though.”
He scoffed, turning to face her completely.
“You always say the worst things to me. It’s like you hate me or something.”
Shoko shrugged and lifted her head from the table.
“It’s because I like you the most.”
Satoru’s fingers outstretched, unconsciously rubbing her leg, a habit he had picked up in their second year and had yet to break.
“That’s a little convoluted don’t you think?”
She cocked her head in interest.
“How so?”
“You like me the most so you’re the meanest to me. What’re we five?”
Shoko shrugged, reaching for her glass.
“You didn’t know me at five.”
Satoru pulled off his blindfold, both the vacancy and dimness of the restaurant making his surroundings bearable.
“Bet you were cute.”
She shook her head and smiled over the rim of her cup
“No shot, had this thick ass lisp. Couldn’t understand what I was saying half of the time.”
He grinned, the kind that only used half of his face.
“Adorable.”
“You look like you were a cruel kid, you probably would’ve made fun of me.”
He choked out a laugh, reaching for her cup, not bothering to ask her first.
She didn’t mind though. She never did. She was sweet like that.
“How can you say that Shoko? Honestly I’m offended.”
“It’s in the way you act. You have that shitty, only child air surrounding you.”
He frowned, lifting his hand from her lap to lightly flick her forehead.
“Shithead.”
Her smile widened and she instinctively swatted his hand away.
“This is exactly what I mean. You calling me a shit head is so painfully only child of you.”
“I grew up in a clan, that’s hardly an independent upbringing.”
She furrowed her brows, scooting closer to him.
“Yeah but that’s different. You were waited on hand and foot. Like the second coming of Christ or something. Surrounded by people to inflate your big ass head,”
He looked at her, the corner of his lips turning upwards.
“Well… I mean I kinda am.”
“God you’re insufferable.” She rolled her eyes. Hard. Sighing and resting her head on his shoulder. Failing to put any real space between the two of them despite the annoyed tone she was so obviously forcing.
“But you’re here with me. What’s the deal?”
She inhaled, holding her breath for a second before
exhaling.
Her breath smelt like mint and cigarettes. An odd combination but he had grown to appreciate it.
“I have no other friends Satoru.”
He snickered.
“There’s ijichi.”
She flicked her wrist to sneak a glance at her watch.
“It’s past 10, he’s asleep.”
“If you called he’d come. He’s completely in love with you.”
She sat up, flipping her long hair over her shoulder dramatically.
“Duh, look at me.”
He nodded, looking at her.
“I see the appeal.”
She beamed, most likely due to the fact that she had a slight buzz and was temporarily free of her professional responsibilities.
“After so many years of friendship I would hope so.”
Satoru clicked his tongue and shook his head.
“No one’s forcing you to be friends with me Shoko.”
She laughed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him incredibly close to her. Her breathe tickling his face.
“Yeah, but I prefer your company.”