delicate | nanami x reader

Chapter 5: Conflicted

a/n: sorry this took a little long! studying for upcoming mid terms so kinda busy with that 🫡

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You wrap a towel around Kento and hand him a change of clothes since the man was absolutely drenched. He thanks you and changes into them frankly after.

An hour had passed. The weather clearly wasn't doing any better, so you offered Kento to sleep inside of your house for the night. That nagging feeling of awkwardness between you two was certainly going to be there but there was nothing you could do. Mother nature bounds no limits.

You were doing dishes from a few hours ago when Kento came out of the guest bedroom and sat on a barstool in the kitchen. He browsed through his phone in silence but often glanced at you here and there. You didn't know what was up but the demeanor of the room felt tense.

You finish the last dish and place it on the drying rack before thoroughly washing your hands. He laid his phone on the counter when he realized you were done and you turned back to him.

"Going to bed soon?" He asks.

"Yeah."

He clears his throat. "Well.. I think I just need to say that I feel like a weight had been lifted off my chest talking to you today and it felt really good to be listened to. So I.. um, thank you." It wasn't necessarily easy to say thank you on his behalf because he doesn't often show praise or gratitude. But in this case scenario, Kento felt it be obligatory to at least say the basic giving how much you had done for him.

A smile appears on your face, one stretching from ear to ear because it meant a lot to you hearing those words. "Likewise. And I'm glad I could help."

He flashes a docile smile at you and walks down the basement stairs. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight Kento."

This would've been believed to be the last interaction between you two on this night, though there was much more yet to be unraveled..

~

The man laid flat on the surface of his mattress staring vehemently at every minute detail on the ceiling before him, waiting like a ticking clock to fall asleep. Yet he couldn't, he just couldn't. He hadn't felt at ease for the past hour. He didn't know why nor did he really want to know why. He just wanted to get in some rest. Was it the bed? Was it the fact that he was sleeping in your house?

Or maybe, it was just the fact that although it seemed otherwise, he felt absolutely horrid for sharing, or even speaking about his past. As he laid his body on the bedsheets, he couldn't stop twisting and turning around and gutting this agonizing feeling that he said too much. It robbed him of attaining any rest that night.

Why would he dish the dirt with a woman he slept with for one night? He had no clue in the world about your whereabouts in the past, except that you were a prostitute. He didn't know what you were, what you wanted and what you would do with the information you now acquired from him. Fuck, he knew nothing. He was a hopeless bastard. And it wasn't often that he shared anything about himself, so now he felt uneasy about it.

But he couldn't say that to your face. Instead, he put on this appreciating persona, acting as if it had helped him in a way. He felt it did help him, at least in that moment. But now he had came to realize it really had only done the opposite. He was now up all night dealing with the consequences. Guilt, regret, and everything in between.

When the man was feeling this way he knew that he let his emotions dictate him around too much, and hence, it would be an ideal time to run back to the comfort of his drugs. But the thing was, he was trying to stop. So hard. How could a man teach 1st grade kids so joyfully for a living but simultaneously be taking cocaine on the side? He really wanted to better himself..