Despite the latter's superior strength, Nanami would not hesitate to chase Gojo down through the streets of Japan and whoop his senior's butt to teach him a lesson.
You would hate to be caught in the middle of something like that.
Consequently, your first thought is to cover for your ex-boyfriend. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not," is Nanami's immediate response.
He has known you for long enough, standing next to you through thick and thin.
On a night where you come home as a disheveled mess, hair tangled and makeup running, you were most definitely not fine.
The blonde places you down on the couch.
He takes a seat next to you so that he could reach for your hand, which he intuitively massages with soft, slow strokes.
There is something about Nanami's presence that brings you a wave of inexplicable contentment inside.
"Tell me," the man coaxes.
The two words are all it takes for your exterior to crumble once again, revealing the scrunched forehead and shameful tears that you keep trying desperately to hide.
"I got fired," your murmur in a wavered tone.
"Wait, what?" Nanami utters, perplexed.
He doesn't believe the reality as much as you do, because as far as he knows, you're one of the most popular dancers in the club.
"Why?" he asks.
Despite the sadness, you're still keen to reveal too much of your night.
"I got into a fight." With Satoru.
You're not lying, you're simply not telling the complete truth.
And this is for Nanami's sake, you think.
You don't want to tell him about the pain you felt, only for your feelings to be toyed with as you remember Gojo placing the cash in your hands and whispering how he's missed you.
Tch.
While the man beside you is curious, he sees the disappointment in your face and decides to drop his other questions.
"Rent, bills, insurance, groceries," you ramble as you suddenly think of all the monthly expenses that you might no longer afford. Your hand falls across your face. "I need another job, fast."
A frown takes over his face in a pursed line, sharpening the unbelievably beautiful eyes that shyly peek under the fringe of his sand-colored tresses.
"You don't have to worry, remember?" the blonde reminds. "I have enough money. For everything."
Unlike the last time you heard the suggestion several hours ago, you are much more desperate for anything, really.
The offer is now very, very tempting.
"I...I really shouldn't," you finally declare when guilt from months and years of Nanami's help hits you like an obese whale. "You've provided me so much support that I feel so indebted to you already."
Nanami isn't amused either.
"Well, you need the money now."
"Kento, I already owe you a lot. At this rate, how will I ever pay you back?" you sigh. "I don't want to accept your money unless I have something to offer in return."
You hate the idea of being the person who only takes and doesn't give.
"What am I supposed to do, hm?" you scoff. "Become a housewife? Do nothing as my sugar daddy pays all the bills for me?"
"Exactly."
The sudden, outright response is unexpected.
Turning to face the man, you are about to aggressively shut down the idea until something stops you.
"Nanami? Mommy?" the angelic voice that you both know all too well calls.
A little fluffball emerges from the mattress, rubbing his eyes as he looks in your direction.
Despite his young age, Haru could sense the despair in the earlier conversation.
He crawls out of bed and waddles to your side, staring at you with the startling gaze passed from his father.
Haru then points to the makeup that paints your cheeks.
"Mommy looks funny," he points out innocently.
Your heart softens quickly, and so does Nanami's. As your maternal instincts kick in, you ruffle the boy's silvery strands with a comforting hand.
"Don't worry, baby. Mommy's just in a bit of trouble, but everything will be okay."
Your shoulders slump with relief when Haru easily buys your lie because everything was, in fact, not okay.
Nonetheless, you try hard to conceal your face with a reassuring smile while Haru hops over to Nanami's lap.
Once your son makes the spot his new home, you think about the happiness in this little apartment that may crumble if you don't come up with an answer for Nanami fast.
The man's unrelenting gaze already has returned to you and, noticing the guilt in your eyes, he devises a solution.
"If you're that desperate to pay me back," he quietly starts.
He places a calloused hand on your exposed thigh, the rough pads of his fingers snaking across the expanse of your skin.
"I'll think of something just for you."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
