The Sinful Liar - Shohei Ohtani x Reader.

Chapter 26: Little spark

I wake up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, I'm disoriented, blinking against the unfamiliar ceiling until the scent of him fills my senses—citrusy and clean. Right. Shohei's room.

I turn my head slightly, careful not to make any noise, and see him lying on his side, facing me. His face is serene in sleep, but there's always something distant about Shohei, even when he's relaxed like this. His dark hair is tousled, and I can't help but study the faint lines etched into his forehead, like he's always deep in thought, even in his dreams.

I start to move slowly, trying to slide out of bed without waking him, but as I shift, I feel his eyes on me. He's awake, watching me, his gaze steady and unreadable. I freeze for a moment, caught by surprise.

"Leaving already?" His voice is quiet, rough with sleep.

I pause, not sure how to respond. We don't usually have conversations like this in the mornings.

"Yeah," I mumble, finally finding my voice.

"I've got to get back... Lou needs me today. Mom's going to the hospital."

He nods, but his expression doesn't change. He's always hard to read, like there's a wall between us that he never lets down.

"Do you... need a ride?"

With a careful tone, he surprises me by speaking again.

Whenever I think I can understand him a little bit, I find that there are still some layers left uncovered. I'll never really know Shohei at all, will I?

I hesitate, feeling my heart thudding a little too loudly in my chest.

"Are you... sure?" I ask, unsure of what to make of this unexpected offer.

He gives a small nod, his face still guarded.

"Yeah. I'm free this morning."

I swallow, feeling the weight of his gaze.

"Okay... thanks," I say softly, trying to hide my surprise. "That would be... nice."

Shohei doesn't smile or give any indication of what he's thinking. He simply nods again, then slips out of bed, moving with a quiet grace as he grabs a shirt from the chair. I watch him, feeling a strange mixture of confusion and something warmer, something I can't quite name.

We don't say much as we get dressed, the silence between us thick with unspoken words. I glance at him from time to time, trying to read his expression, but his face remains carefully neutral, his movements measured and calm.

Once we're ready, we head downstairs, and I notice the way he opens the front door for me—a small gesture, but one that feels oddly significant coming from him. Shohei isn't one for grand gestures or overt kindness. He's more like a fortress, with walls so high that I sometimes wonder if anyone has ever really seen inside.

We step outside, and he nods toward his car. "Come on," he says, his voice still soft, almost hesitant.

I follow him, feeling strangely nervous, like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Shohei pulls up in front of my house, and the car engine hums softly in the stillness of the morning. We've driven in near silence, his eyes mostly fixed on the road, and I've spent the entire time wondering what's going on inside his head. He's always been hard to read, a closed book that only gives away a word or two at a time.

"Thanks for the ride," I say as I reach for the door handle, feeling the need to break the tension that's settled in the car like a thick fog.

He nods, his expression calm but thoughtful, his eyes flickering toward me briefly, as if he's weighing something. "No problem," he replies, voice low and steady.