Chapter Text
Kiyoomi sat slouched on his desk chair, ankles crossed on a seat next to his while his finger kept swiping his phone screen repeatedly to the left, left, left, left.
He couldn't understand how he had agreed to this, no matter how inebriated he had been at the moment when Motoya had downloaded the dating app on his phone last weekend. Even more, he couldn't understand why he was actually using it. Maybe because even with the slightest change he'd actually meet someone worth his time would be better than prolonging his now too long dry spell was tempting. Maybe he was desperate. Maybe this was better alternative than going into the nightlife and to try hook up with someone there where people were intoxicated, sweaty, sticky and more or less disheveled, and most likely would only be in their best (or worst) behavior until the next morning. He was too bitter to go through that. Too bad that the options on this app didn't appear appealing the slightest, in fact he occasionally felt nausea climbing his throat as he went through some of the descriptions these people had left beneath their pictures.
The door to the hallway opened, and Motoya stepped into the small studio booth with a smile on his face.
"Kiyoomi! Playing with your phone at work, this is so unlike you," Motoya exclaimed as he slapped Kiyoomi's feet resting on the only spare chair in the tiny room. Kiyoomi lifted his legs enough for his cousin to sit down on the chair he had used as a leg rest before letting his feet drop on Motoya's lap. "Whatcha doing?"
"Scrolling through this stupid app you downloaded," he sighed. "Hitoka called, apparently she's running late."
Motoya's eyes sparkled. In a blink he shoved Kiyoomi's feet off of his lap and onto the floor, reached over to grab the rolling chair Kiyoomi was sitting on to drag him closer so the phone screen was on his view as well.
"First of all, proud of you for doing this," Motoya gestured the phone, "and second, poor Yachi. She must be pissing herself as we speak."
"What do you mean?" Kiyoomi kept swiping the screen. Was there even any point to this app? Was he really this unlucky what came to people living this city, were all the good ones smart enough to stay away from this app, or was it just him
being unnecessarily picky? Probably the combination of all three.
"You don't remember the speech you gave to that one poor trainee when she was late that one time? I think it was couple years ago? The whole building heard it and she cried and every trainee ever since has been literally scared shitless of being even one minute late if they had to work with you," Motoya grinned.
"Hitoka isn't a trainee," Kiyoomi reminded him, "but good, because if they wouldn't otherwise be respectful of other people and be at places in time, I did something right."
Motoya waved his hand. "Yeah yeah. Hey, why're only swiping left? That's not how this works!"
"These people are terrible."
"Don't be so quick to judge."
"I'm not. These are just awful. See," he tilted his phone towards Motoya, "this one is literally just a picture of a corn. This one says, and I quote 'ya'll gay fake tweekers can suck this'. What does that even mean," he clicked his tongue and swiped to the left, "I might just delete this crap and forget I live on the same planet with these people."
"Yeah, but, -oh! Stop!" Motoya screamed before Kiyoomi had the chance to swipe left, "he looks good."
"Yeah, sure," Kiyoomi read the description text quickly and glanced the picture again, "he seems nice, but honestly not my type."
Motoya sighed "fine" as he swiped to the left once again.
The next three ones were yet again awful profiles in one way or another, but on the fourth one Kiyoomi took a pause.
"Miya. 'Just looking for good time'," Motoya read out loud. "And he's hot! Right, swipe right! He's perfect!"
"There's no way you can say he's 'perfect' only from this. Bet it's a catfish," Kiyoomi grumbled, not buying that someone with a facial features sculpted by gods was desperate enough to have a profile in this shitty app. If not a catfish, a douchebag for sure.
"We'll take the risk," Motoya announced before striking in and with a quick flick of his wrist he wiped the screen to the right. "You're welcome!"
"The fuck!?" Kiyoomi jumped to straighten his posture and shot a sharp glare at his cousin.
"Relax! It's not like he'll get an announcement that you've swiped him to the right, he'll find it out only if he also likes your profile too," Motoya waved his hand dismissively at Kiyoomi's murderous expression.
Kiyoomi was about to snap at him, when his phone made a weird ding sound he'd never heard before. Dropping eyes on the screen they both watched as the app announced that Kiyoomi could now chat with 'Miya'.
"Well," Motoya's face was about to split in half with the grin he was sporting, "looks like you've matched."
Kiyoomi stared at his phone dumbfounded. Suddenly he felt nervous.
"What are you waiting for? Message him!" Motoya took a handful of Kiyoomi's shoulder and shook him, trying to physically push Kiyoomi into action.
"No."
"What? That's the whole point! Here, let me-"
Kiyoomi yanked his phone far away from Motoya's prying hands. "Fuck no."
"You have to! You have now the perfect opportunity to ask him out and maybe get some! That was the whole point of this whole thing!" Motoya whined way too loudly. Luckily the booth was soundproof, so no one in the hallway could hear him.
"I heard you the first time. I'm not going to be the first one to send a message, though."
Motoya was about to protest, when there was soft rapping on the door before it was carefully opened. A blond young woman peeked inside before stepping fully inside and slapping her hands together in front of her face.
"I'm so so sorry I'm late!"
Hitoka's hair was absolute bird's nest, there was something that looked like toothpaste on her cheek, she was sporting an overly large white, wrinkled t-shirt and something that looked like a tracksuit bottoms from the nineties. Her breathing was ragged as if she'd ran from the other side of the town, and from the look she gave to Kiyoomi and Motoya clearly screamed that she had had a terrible Monday morning. Kiyoomi couldn't find it in him to scold her for keeping him waiting for twenty minutes.
"Don't sweat it, just catch your breath and drink something before we get to work," he waved her off. "I'll go grab a cup of coffee."
"Oh, bring us some too!" Motoya yelled way too loud, considering Kiyoomi was still right next to him in the little closet sized room. Hitoka was still standing in the doorway, but stepped out of the way the moment Kiyoomi moved to walk out.
"You drag your lazy ass up and get your own coffee," Kiyoomi shot at Motoya before turning to look at still fretting Hitoka. "You want something?"
Hitoka snapped out of her nervousness and started combing her messy hair with her fingers, "Ah, no thank you! I have a water bottle here somewhere," she smiled and waved around a bag she'd been holding.
Kiyoomi nodded, ignored Motoya's whining how he was unnecessarily mean and unfair, closed the door and made his way to the cafeteria downstairs.
***
Atsumu jerked awake when some dipshit honked their car horn right under his window. With a groan he turned around and yanked his blanket over his head, covering the annoying sun rays shining through the stupidly thin curtains. Why hadn't he gotten better ones yet was a mystery, it's not like he had cursed their existence every damn day.
He tried to catch some more sleep, but not too long after the honking sound that had woken him his phone started buzzing somewhere close by.
Not wanting to open his eyes, Atsumu turned onto his back to try to locate the damn device by blindly searching with his hand. In the end he had to give up and open his eyes to actually look where he'd tossed his phone on the night before.
It was wedged between his sheets and blanket in a perfect hiding spot. How annoying. Maybe he should stop taking his phone literally to bed with him.
Quick check on the time told him that he'd gotten over seven hours of sleep, though he felt like he'd just closed his eyes. The phone kept persistently buzzing, flashing Osamu's name on the screen. Atsumu cleared his throat as he hit the answer button and placed the phone on his ear.
"Yeah?"
"Did I wake ya?"
"Yeah."
"Yer free today?"
"Yeah."
"Good, I'm gettin' a package delivered today but will be at home at eight the earliest and Suna has stuff ta do. Stay put?"
"Yeah."
"Thanks. Have to go back ta work."
Not waiting for a response, Osamu ended the call.
Atsumu let his phone drop from his hand before he curled again into his sheets. A few more minutes. He'd sleep few more minutes.
It was almost 1pm when Atsumu finally climbed out of the bed and dragged his feet to the bathroom. Luckily the delivery guy hadn't showed up while he'd been asleep, not that he wouldn't wake up to the hellish buzzer they had, but because he wasn't really feeling like opening the door to anyone in his current attire - clad only in boxers and just looking like he'd been ran over by a bus. He was sure his hair was reaching for the sky.
After stepping out of the bathroom he made a beeline to the kitchen to make some coffee to help him to wake up.
While waiting for the coffee to brew Atsumu searched for his phone again only to find it from the bed he'd left it. He checked all the little notifications he'd gotten during his slumber; texts from Osamu telling him not to eat the leftovers in the refrigerator and asking him about the delivery, some emails, and various apps announcing him he had unread messages and other crap.
He skimmed through most, texted Terushima if he planned of skipping yet another Tuesday shift and if Atsumu had to prepare to work double tomorrow, and then paused to pour himself a cup of coffee and add some cream and sugar in it to ease of the bitter taste before moving to sit on a couch in their packed little living area.
Once settled to a comfortable position and placing the coffee cup down within his reach, Atsumu noticed that he had a new contact added to one of the dating apps he had downloaded. Curious and in some serious need to get laid, he clicked the app open and as he'd already figured, it was the guy with curly hair, sharp eyes and cute moles on his forehead with a simple description text 'surprisingly intimidating for a nerd' on his profile, which had amused Atsumu big time. Atsumu had played with the app previous night when he hadn't had anything better to do during his break, and the guy had been one of the few worth swiping right.
Without putting much thought to it, Atsumu messaged a simple 'Hi' to this Sakusa person, tossed his phone aside and moved to grab the TV remote. Might as well spend his day off binge watching the newest hit show, just to check what all the fuzz was about.
He was in the middle of the second episode when his phone buzzed. He was just about to open the screen when the buzzer for the front door came alive, scaring the living shit out of him.
"Talk about timin'," he muttered as he stood up from the couch he'd been lying ever so comfortably. He kept his eyes on his phone while he buzzed the delivery guy into the building.
The text was from Teru, sending him a gif of a dude giving a finger. Always so mature. All Atsumu had done was ask a very simple passive-aggressive yet essential question, and this was the answer.
As he waited for the delivery to reach their apartment floor, the phone in his hand buzzed again and this time it was Sakusa. Atsumu clicked the app open immediately and went straight to the chat.
[Miya 1:37pm]: Hi ;)
[Sakusa 2:54pm]: Hi.
[Miya 2:55pm]: Ur profile made me laugh
Atsumu send the message at the exact moment the delivery guy arrived with Osamu's package. They exchanged little bit of forced small talk while the delivery guy took Atsumu's signature and passed the package over to him, and soon enough Atsumu closed the door and placed the box on the kitchen counter he passed by on his way back to the couch.
[Sakusa 2:57pm]: Glad to bring in some joy.
[Sakusa 2:57pm]: It was actually my friend that wrote it.
[Miya 2:58pm]: So ur not a nerd or intimidating?
[Sakusa 2:59pm]: Didn't say that.
Atsumu chuckled. Even through their very short acquaintanceship it seemed like this Sakusa person wasn't much of an initiative type, but Atsumu didn't mind. He had the knack of pulling a conversation out of a thin air, and since people used the app for a certain reason the rest of the script wrote itself.
[Miya 3:01pm]: So whatre u looking for?
[Sakusa 3:03pm]: Something casual, I guess.
[Miya 3:04pm]: Cool me too
[Miya 3:04pm]: Wanna meet up?
[Sakusa 3:06pm]: Straight to the point, huh?
[Miya 3:07pm]: It was your mind that went there;)
[Miya 3:07pm]: I thought we could meet for coffee or something
[Miya 3:07pm]: Or go straight to sex don't really mind ;)
[Sakusa 3:09pm]: For a moment I thought your mother did a good job teaching you about stranger danger.
[Miya 3:10pm]: Just part of that generation that is very aware what kind of pervs internet is full of but just choose to ignore it
[Miya 3:10pm]: Ur not a creep tho?
[Sakusa 3:11pm]: No, can't say I am.
[Sakusa 3:11pm]: But I'm responsible enough for the both of us to suggest that we should meet first at a cafe or something.
[Miya 3:12pm]: Coffee is fine
[Miya 3:12pm]: Shinjuku station alright?
[Sakusa 3:14pm]: Yes.
[Miya 3:15pm]: Wanna meet there today?
[Sakusa 3:17pm]: Sure.
***
As they say; when something seems too good to be true, it isn't.
At least that was what Kiyoomi's uncle, Motoya's father, used to repeat over the years like a mantra. How Motoya turned out to be the positive ray of sunshine, the cup-half-full type of person, Kiyoomi never knew. He himself didn't take much of the old man's words into his heart either, but that one always stuck with Kiyoomi as it seemed quite accurate quote.
So when Miya had actually messaged him and even indicated that they should meet up after a handful of messages to one another, Kiyoomi was unsure what to think.
They'd been recording Hitoka's vocals ever since she had showed up to the recording studio. Motoya had occasionally coached her, given her tips to reach certain high notes while Kiyoomi fixed the sound when it was clearly off and suggested some changes here and there. Hitoka was his favorite artist to work with, and he wasn't afraid to admit it. She was hard working, humble, and open for suggestions. She wrote most of her songs and as many other artists, she was clearly on defense everytime someone tried to put too much their mind into her work, but she took criticism well when it was actually helpful – if it was uncalled for, she'd cry and get anxious, but after that initial reaction she'd get right back up on her feet. She might be one of the fastest rising artists working for their record label, but she never acted better than anyone else. In fact, if someone who had lived under a rock for the past two years suddenly entered the building and saw Hitoka, they'd probably mistake her as one of their trainees.
Around 2:30pm Hitoka had left the recording booth, as she was about to have a meeting about her newest album with the marketing team, and after Motoya had pestered Kiyoomi if Miya had messaged him yet (he had, but Kiyoomi didn't tell him that), he had left him alone and rushed to meet up with some other artists.
For the first time in few hours Kiyoomi had some time to sit in complete silence. As much he loved music and felt lucky to be working with his passion, he really needed the absolute occasional silence the recording booth granted him once everyone else were outside and all the machines were turned off. It was just silence, him, and his phone. And well, Miya.
Kiyoomi couldn't get rid of the suspicion that this was just someone fucking with him and getting a kick of him making a fool of himself. Still he agreed to meet the blond.
Kiyoomi dropped his phone on his lap and let his head fall backwards as he rubbed his face with both of his hands. What was he doing? Was he seriously going to meet with a stranger he had messaged on a dating app?
With a sigh Kiyoomi got up from his chair and packed his things before grabbing a pack of disinfectant wipes and cleaned all of the devices, headphones, and every little button on his sound mixing board. After wiping the booth clean he moved onto the another room connected to it -the actual recording booth- and began wiping everything Motoya and Hitoka might've touched. He wanted everything to be clean when he'd come back tomorrow.
Couple years ago he'd had a long and exhausting conversation with Ushijima that this was his space. No one else was allowed to use his mixing board, his mics, booths, his instruments, his equipment. Hell, no one was allowed inside unless he let them there. Even the cleaning staff skipped these rooms, as Kiyoomi took it upon himself to keep the place clean; Only then he'd know for sure that everything really was cleaned properly.
Ushijima had not agreed with him at first, telling him that he couldn't just give one whole recording and mixing studio for one person to dictate over, but in the end Kiyoomi had won that battle. Not like there weren't three other studios on that very same floor that others could use to their hearts' content.
Not like there was another Sakusa Kiyoomi to replace him.
He knew his worth, and so did Ushijima. Kiyoomi might not be the light of the party and he acknowledged his personality wasn't the friendliest, but he knew what he was doing when he was placed in front of an instrument or a mixing board. There is a reason why Hitoka stuck with him even when she could've asked for another producer once she started gaining name and fame.
After cleaning everything to his satisfactory levels Kiyoomi felt already less anxious about his date, or whatever he was supposed to call it. He glanced at the clock on the wall and noted that there was still an hour to kill before he was supposed to meet Miya. Shinjuku station was a walking distance from their building, give or take fifteen minutes, but after a short moment of consideration Kiyoomi decided to put on his coat, pick up his bag, and started to make a leave. At least he wouldn't be late even if he were to stop to have a mental breakdown if necessary.
He couldn't understand why was this causing him so much anxiety to begin with, it wasn't as if he'd never had a date or a casual hookup. Perhaps the fact that it really had been years since he'd even had that date, and this was almost equivalent to a blind one; something he'd never agreed to do, no matter how many times Motoya had wanted to play the match maker. Kiyoomi knew nothing about Miya, if he was even real.
Kiyoomi had hoped he would manage to leave the building in peace, but his run was cut when he reached the elevators on his floor.
"Sakusa, I was looking for you."
Ushijima stepped out of the elevator Kiyoomi had just called, and he watched the door shut behind his boss and leave without him. At least Kiyoomi wasn't in a hurry, he could spare some time to listen Ushijima's lecture despite knowing exactly what his superior wanted to discuss with him.
"There's no point for me to be in those meetings," Kiyoomi cut the chase and moved to press the call button again with his elbow. Hell was about to freeze before he'd touch those nasty ass buttons with his fingers.
"There is, as you're Yachi's producer."
"I'm her producer, so I work with her. Not with everyone from the graphic designers to the marketing team. The end."
"As her producer, you're part of the team, and your input to create the new album is as crucial as everyone else's."
"My part is over when the songs are done. You don't need my input to anything else, and I sure as hell don't need to sit hours and hours to listen other people talk about something that doesn't concern me the slightest. Besides," Kiyoomi took a step once the elevator doors opened again, and stood in the middle of the doorway to keep them from closing, "it's not like you don't have your assistant to write down every little detail that goes on in those meetings and have her send all of that to everyone involved to the album anyway. I do read those, so it's not like I'm completely oblivious what is going on even if I do literally nothing with that knowledge."
Ushijima let out a sigh. "Well, at least you do that. But I do think Yachi would feel better if you'd join the meetings, if not for anything else but to accompany her. She seems quite uncertain on multiple things, and looks like she could use some advice. Since you are the one she's been working with her music and you're the one who knows what she's been aiming for with her art, you could help her to vocalize her goals to the rest of the crew."
"Or she could learn how to grow a spine and say what she wants. At least she could come to me and ask herself, instead of sending you to do it for her."
"She didn't send me, I came on my own."
"So you don't even know for sure she needs me there?" Kiyoomi stepped fully into the elevator. "If she wants me there, she'll ask me to be there." With that, the doors slid close and the numbers started ticking down on the screen above.
Kiyoomi arrived to the café good half an hour too early, but he was quite glad about that. He had time to order tea, take a seat facing the door, and have a moment to have a breather in attempts to collect himself. The nervousness had subdued during his walk, and sitting there sipping his tea just made him even more relaxed. This was fine. Everything was going to be fine.
Except when the door opened and a toned figure of a young man stepped inside the coffee shop all of Kiyoomi's composure flew out of the window.
For fuck's sake the guy was real, and the picture he'd had on the app hadn't even made justice to the beauty he was. And he was there to meet Kiyoomi? God, Kiyoomi hoped the guy was an asshole so he'd feel less shitty when Miya was going to turn him down.
"Yer Sakusa?" Miya had noticed his stare and moved closer to the table Kiyoomi was occupying, now turning his cup of tea between his hands just to have something to fidget with.
"I am," he managed to confirm with mostly natural sounding voice. Up close Kiyoomi could see the brilliant warm brown of Miya's eyes and the perfect row of teeth as he gave Kiyoomi a wide smile. Was he a model or something? Why was he here to meet up with Kiyoomi was beyond him.
To his surprise, Miya let out a laugh and visibly relaxed. Guess he'd been on the edge as well.
"Nice ta meet ya, I'm Miya, obviously" he smiled, and then added "but ya can call me Atsumu" with another chuckle. "I'll go get myself some coffee, ya okay with that or should I bring ya somethin'?" He asked, throwing his thumb over his shoulder and towards the counter.
Kiyoomi was a bit taken back by Miya's familiarity, being in extreme contrast with his own reserved personality. "I'm good, thanks."
Miya nodded, his smile never faltering, and left the table to pick up a cup of coffee from the counter. Kiyoomi followed him shamelessly with his eyes, and even gave the man a small panicked smile when Miya turned to glance back at him once he'd given his order.
Kiyoomi was still slightly suspicious of how perfect this whole thing seemed - how perfect Miya seemed - yet he could feel himself relax a bit more every passing minute even after Miya rejoined him on their table with his cup of coffee.
"Thought yer picture was old or somethin'," Miya admitted the second he sat down, cocky grin stretching his lips. "But seems I was wrong. Ya just text like an old man."
Kiyoomi raised his brow. "Are you disappointed? Were you expecting someone older?"
"Oh, no! Didn't mean anythin' by it, just," Miya made a vague gesture with his hand before moving it to rake through his blond hair. "Ya never know, y'know?"
"I do know. I was sure your profile was a catfish." Kiyoomi took a sip of his drink and watched Miya's face morph into something kind of an arrogant amusement.
"Really? 'Cause I'm pretty?"
Kiyoomi stopped himself just in time before he managed to offend Miya by rolling his eyes. Instead he gave him a little nod of his head. "I'm still quite sure this is some kind of scam. Why are you on that shitty app? I'm sure you could just pick someone from the street to take home?"
For a beat Kiyoomi thought he'd been too direct too soon, as for a second or two Miya's face resembled one of a fish with gaping mouth and wide eyes, but quickly enough the man refound his composure and his sly like smirk made a return.
"Could ask the same question. I'm there just for the fun, meet new people and y'know, hook up. My job keeps my schedule all fucked up ta meet people more traditional ways," he shrugged and leaned back on his chair, fingers tapping his cup but eyes locked on Kiyoomi's. "I'd say ya, too, have a face ta go and pick anyone up with no problem."
Kiyoomi let out a small chuckle. "My cousin made me do it. Apparently, according to him, I'm too much of a hermit and loaded with bad attitude to go and meet people the normal way, so it was either that app or he'd set me up for a blind date."
Miya laughed, a rich sound filling the air for a short time. It made Kiyoomi's stomach do a somersault.
"Well, whatever the case is, I'm happy ta be here now," Miya smiled and lifted his cup to his lips to take a sip.
Kiyoomi hummed affirmative, and for a little while there was just this silence between them. Despite the constant eye contact it wasn't uncomfortable, more like something that needed to be in that moment.
Yet Kiyoomi wasn't upset when Miya broke it.
"So, what's yer deal? Working man? Married? Wife and kids?"
Kiyoomi's brows shot up. "Didn't you listen? Also why I'd be here if I had a family?"
Miya shrugged. "Clearly ya haven't been chattin' with other users on that app."
"No, you're the only one. And now I'm happy I was picky as fuck," Kiyoomi shuddered at the thought of some of the users he'd come across of actually being someone's husbands and wives looking for some thrill for their boring lives.
He reached for his tea. "So no, I don't have a wife or a husband or whatever, and definitely no kids. Don't even have a house plant," he muttered the last sentence right before sipping his now lukewarm beverage. Maybe he should get a refill. But that'd mean he'd have to get up and leave, and even just for a little moment, Kiyoomi didn't want to interrupt the flow they had going on.
"Good ta know." Miya was clearly amused, but there was also something of a relief in his eyes. "So what do ya do?"
"I'm a music producer."
Miya looked at him with curiosity in his eyes. "What does that entail?"
"I help artists to bring their songs alive, to arrange and check the sound, and sometimes consult them."
"That's.. amazing? So ya play somethin'? Guitar? Bass? Kind of see ya in front of a piano," Miya mused. Kiyoomi had to wonder if Miya's mouth was just forever stuck to a smile, or if he was just genuinely enjoying their chat enough not to let it falter at all.
"I do play multiple instruments. Music has always been my passion, so I took it to my goal to be able to play as many instruments I could get my hands on," Kiyoomi replied with a shrug. "Nowadays I mostly do everything with mixing boards, but occasionally I get to play an actual instrument."
Before Miya had time to shoot him with another question, Kiyoomi took his chance to redirect the conversation elsewhere. He wasn't there to only talk about himself, and by the look Miya was giving him, he was about to bomb Kiyoomi with questions till the end of time unless he stopped him. "What about you?"
Miya paused to open and close his mouth few times, most likely to catch up with the subject change, before answering with a simple "I work at a nightclub."
Kiyoomi looked Miya up and down -not like he hadn't done it already couple of times, but this time Kiyoomi's motive wasn't just to check him out. "A bartender?"
Miya nodded.
"You look like the part," Kiyoomi said into his tea cup before throwing the rest of the now cold drink down.
"That a compliment?" Miya asked, grin creeping up on his lips. He was leaning over the table on his arms, hooded eyes taking Kiyoomi in and making him slightly self-conscious. Their casual chit-chat had not distracted Kiyoomi enough to forget the fact that the app that had lead him there in that café with Miya was meant for people to find someone to hook-up with.
And it was there, the expectation. It was obvious in Miya's eyes when he licked his lips and broke the silence.
"So... somethin' casual?"
Miya's knee pressed into Kiyoomi's thigh under the table. The contact, while a clear instigator and a wordless question, was gentle and left Kiyoomi room to either answer to it or retreat.
And Kiyoomi did hesitate. But in the end he didn't get an off feeling from Miya, and who knows when an opportunity like this would rise again.
So he pressed his leg against the contact and leaned over the table to meet Miya's gaze, yet still leaving a modest distance between them.
"Something casual."
The tension. Kiyoomi had missed it, the thrilling expectancy when there was no need for words yet they both knew exactly what they wanted.
Miya's tongue poked out to lick his lips, the sight stealing Kiyoomi's attention instantly so tightly he barely heard what Miya had to say. "Where'd ya wanna go? Hotel?"
Kiyoomi wasn't sure if he was able to leave the café with how aggressively his gut was tossing and turning in excitement and nervousness. But he would try.
"My place. I don't trust hotel hygiene."
Miya's smirk made a return. "Neat freak? Also what happened to stranger danger?"
"Just aware of sanitary conditions of a place where people would quite literally just come and go," Kiyoomi explained as he pulled his face mask out of the pocket of his jacket. Before putting the mask on he paused just for a moment to give Miya a slow look up and down. "You don't look like anything I should worry about."
Miya cocked a brow and cracked ridiculously attractive grin at him. "I'll take that as a compliment as well and promise ta wash my hands whenever I use the bathroom."
Kiyoomi's voice came out flat as he tried his best not to think too hard if Miya usually would do anything less. "Thank you for contributing to the bare minimum."