Favorite Crime || Mikey/OC/Mitsuya

06 - ramen and chopsticks

it's a quarter past midnight when we finally arrive at Takashi's place. he had warned me again and again that his house was small and probably 'not to my taste' but I assured him every time that I couldn't care less even if he lived under a bridge.

he carries me on his back, his hands supporting me behind my knees as I dangle my arms over his shoulders. in the twenty-minute motorcycle ride, I trained myself on Takashi-close-contact-immunity by clinging to him the entire ride. so for now, I'll survive being this close to this boy.

"am I really not heavy?" I ask again, admiring the side of his face.

"I swear, you're lighter than I would like." he turns to face me.

I turn away. it appears to be that I don't have much immunity from his burning gaze, especially when his face was this close to mine.

"to clarify, I have nothing against how you weigh. my point is that you've gone visibly thinner and you're very light...I feel like I'm carrying a very sick person," he sadly says, looking straight ahead.

"sorry," I mutter.

"I don't mind carrying you, Kurokawa. it's the sick part that kills me," he smiles.

"stop it, you'll make me cry again," I chuckle defensively, pinching his cheek.

"well, we're a work in progress," he laughs, "I can't have you crying every time I remind you you're important to me."

"what?"

my heart had leap out of my chest; he probably felt it against his back. how silly of me to think that any immunity was even possible against Takashi's charms.

"we're here." he opens the door to his house and enters, closing the door.

he steps on the back of his shoe and removes it, doing the same thing for his other foot. he held me tighter the entire time to make sure I remain balanced on his back. he then proceeds to take my slippers off for me and places it on the rack together with his shoes.

"no one else is here?"

"my sisters are asleep, my mom's working."

Takashi turns the light on in the living room and walks over to the couch. he bends down and untangles my arms around his neck; I comfortably sat on the couch now.

"what would you like to eat?" he smiles, looking at me.

"ramen," I reply without hesitation.

in the week of my imprisonment, I've never had decent ramen. I requested it once to Shuji but he ended up boiling up all the soup and the noodles became soggy. Mitsuya raises a brow at my request, almost looking disappointed.

"I can cook just about anything for you," he explains, as if I had doubted his culinary skills.

I can't help but crack a grin. "I want ramen."

"Kurokawa, you starved for days. ask me for a proper meal," he almost scolds.

"Takashi, I want ramen."

he begins listing off all the meals he could cook for me, and while I was impressed with his range in cooking, it still made me laugh.

"Takashi, your cooking's not the issue here," I laugh, and he stills as he stares at me, "I just want ramen."

"fine," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "we only have cupped ramen though."

"sounds good," I grin.

he walks off to their kitchen after telling me to feel at home, and strangely enough, I did. we were like in a world of our own—no kisaki, no gangs, no pain. it's just me and him. it's safe and warm; it's comfortable and surreal.