Project Cupid | Ongoing

13-2 | when the lights go out

I COULD FAINTLY MAKE OUT THE OUTLINE OF HIS BODY, and that was only because our arms were close enough to graze. The pitch-black atmosphere was impenetrable.

I theorized parts of the city would lose power at some point tonight, considering the gravity of the storm. That being said, there was no way to estimate how long we had until the electricity was finally restored.

"Well, this sucks," I groaned. "If Mrs. Riri is already asleep, I doubt she even noticed."

Takumi took it upon himself to switch on his cell phone's flashlight and set it facedown on the table. Minuscule light engulfed the two of us, and a bit of our surroundings. Within the extended silence, I hardly noticed when a whimpering Runa returned to Takumi's side. Beckoning her onto his lap, he ran his fingers across her fur to console her.

"Everything will be okay, Runa," he reassured her.

So, he could be nice if he tried. . . That, or he was solely kind to animals.

Time passed soul-suckingly slow. Takumi had no issues pretending I didn't exist, while I struggled to do the same. It was difficult, especially right after the conversation we just had. As I listlessly drummed my nails against my thigh, I ironically caught a glimpse of him rubbing at his arms to generate warmth. He might've thought he was being subtle about it—and subsequently dropped his arms by his sides thereafter—but the signs were clear as day.

"Are you cold?" No surprise there—his t-shirt seemed extremely flimsy. I shook off the blanket Mrs. Riri had wrapped around me earlier. "Want to share the blanket—"

"Stay away from me."

I frowned. More for me, I guess.

Tossing me a petulant look, he scooped up his textbook, burying his nose into it once more.

"Are you seriously doing schoolwork at a time like this?"

"I'll do whatever I want. Mind your business."

We'd both been holding real immature grudges for years. I hadn't quite decided on whether or not I forgave him. If I'd ever forgive him. But, at least right now, I understood him infinitely better than I did when I got here. And from what little I did understand, I couldn't just let this go.

I'd probably hate myself for this later, but screw it.

"Look." I tugged the book out of his hands, and chucked it behind me before he could dare yank it back. "As much as I hate to admit this, you looked out for me today by bringing me here. So, I'll look out for you too."

"I don't need you to."

"You do. And you'll thank me for it later."

He raised a skeptical brow.

"You're going to fry your brain before we even get to midterms. That, or you'll collapse from exhaustion. Or get a fever from overworking yourself. Or—"

"And? Why would that concern you?"

"You'll ruin your perfect attendance record, flunk the tests you'll inevitably miss as a result, and damage your reputation that you worked so desperately to create all these years. All things I'm sure would concern you very much."

He had no rebuttal.

"There are also the boring reasons," I added. "Chronic stress, that you so clearly have, lowers your life expectancy by a few years. It damages your organs and makes you more susceptible to various diseases. Keep this up, and your hair will fall out. You'll lose your teeth because you can't stop yourself from grinding down on them—yes, I noticed. And you'll give yourself a heart attack as early as the age of 16. Is that what you want? For your heart to stop beating? Dentures? Early balding?"