𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 | 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮

𝟶𝟶𝟿.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

"HEY, I'M BACK!" OSAMU YELLED through the apartment.

Y/N leapt from her seat at the kitchen bench, her homework spread out on the table around her, and hurried down the hallway. He was at the door, taking his shoes off, and looked up with a smile when she came into his vision.

"Hi." She gave a small, kind-of wave (what the hell was that?), offering with her hands extended to take his mini-suitcase of culinary utensils, which he had to cart with him to practical lessons. "Want some help?"

He tilted his head in acceptance, gratitude a subtle gradient in his eyes. "Yeah."

They returned to the kitchen bench together, Osamu taking a few minutes to unpack the tools that needed to be cleaned, as Y/N resumed her seat before her textbooks and laptop, rubbing her temples. That move, she had learned, did nothing to relieve stress, but at least it gave her something to do.

"What's this?" He was leaning over the counter, trying and failing to read the text on her screen upside-down.

"The research essay I put off, like, a week ago," she groaned, tantalisingly close to slamming her head down on the table. "Professor Chin gave me a two week extension, but I have some other exams coming up, so I have to do it now, and I have no idea how to fucking write it."

He hummed sympathetically, hands on his hips as he thought. "I can come help you, but I might have something to eat first."

"I made sandwiches," she supplied distractedly, flicking through windows on her laptop and trying to make sense of it all. Sometimes she wondered if a business degree had been the right choice. "They're in the fridge, I think there's enough for both of us."

Y/N was so absorbed in her work that she completely missed the look Osamu was directing at her – she had become as much a part of the apartment as the walls and the floor, wholly integrated into his life.

Why had they never remained close after second year?

Scratch that, why had they never become close in the first place?

He retrieved the aforementioned sandwiches and stacked them onto plates, pushing one across the table to her. She didn't look up, but hummed appreciation, one hand snaking out through her maze of worksheets to pull the plate closer to her.

After a few moments of deliberating where to put her food down on the overcrowded table, she just groaned and shoved most of her work to the side, picking up one of the sandwiches and freeing it from its cling-wrap.

Osamu slid into the seat beside her, helpfully sorting the paper and books into brief piles by topic.

"Thank you," Y/N sighed, leaning across slightly just to rest her head on his shoulder. Despite the gap between their chairs, it didn't feel uncomfortable, and she felt just a little less stressed. "I hate business."