The Reservation (Nanami Kento || JJK)

In Which Nanami Agrees to Model

Five years passed in the blink of an eye. I graduated, started art school, flunked out of art school in less than three months, then started my career as a digital artist doing character sketches for horny teenagers who just wanted to see their favorite characters with their shirts off.

Honestly, no shade, because I totally got the appeal with some of them. It wasn't exactly inspired art though...

No closer to finding my groove again with art, I couldn't wait for my next reservation with Nanami. Though the date wasn't a happy one to remember, meeting up with Nanami always was.

Most of all, I needed his stern bluntness. I needed him to look me in the eye and tell me I had to keep sharing my art with the world. I needed him to shake me out of my self deprecating funk and make me see clearly. Logically.

He'd been so busy with work lately that we didn't text much anymore. Other than the occasional snapped photo of his sandwich or stack of paperwork, I didn't hear much from him these days.

I arrived at the restaurant a little early, and figuring I would surprise him, I went in to see if a table was available.

"Hello, table for two?"

The server smiled. "We're a little full tonight. Do you have a reservation?"

"Oh, hm... I don't think so. Me and my friend meet here every year on the same day though. Is there any way we could—"

"Is it under Nanami?"

I blinked. "Oh. Yes, actually. Did he make a reservation?"

The server made a note, then motioned for me to follow him to a table. "He made a reservation on this day for the next five years. We usually don't accept reservations any later than a year, but he was adamant that he wanted to be in the books for the standing reservation. He originally asked for a reservation every year for thirty years."

My feet caught on the tiles, and I practically fell into my seat.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes— Sorry— I'm fine. Just... Thirty years? He really asked for that?"

"Mhm. He calls every year a few weeks before to make sure we didn't change how we take reservations."

The server left me to peruse the menu and wait for Nanami, but I was a blushing, smiling mess at the table alone.

Thirty years... He actually tried to set up a standing reservation for thirty years.

I knew the man was as honest as honest could be, and I learned he was loyal over the years, but this? This took the cake.

The door jingled as another customer walked in. I looked up, peering over booths to see if it was him but saw little more than the top of his blonde head over the divider screens.

When he came around the corner, another smile exploded on my face at the sight of him.

If eighteen had looked good on him, and then nineteen and twenty, I didn't know what to make of this. Twenty-three was incredible on Nanami.

Forgoing his suit coat, he wore only his dress shirt with leather suspenders and a mottled tie. Every inch of him was built, shoulders fully broadened, and he'd finally learned how to properly style his hair. Whatever barber he'd started seeing taught him right, with a glorious undercut and perfect part.

"Sorry I'm late," he said as he joined me.

"Don't be, because you're early," I said with a giggle.

He checked his watch. "Oh. I guess we're both early."