Garlic Breath

Confusion

"Wait!"

Souma pauses in the dark doorway of the bathroom. The shadows rest on his face, and it is hard to see his expression, so Takumi figures the only light source of the night—the pale light of the moon seeping through the window at the end of the corridor—is on him instead, exposing his own (probably blushing) features. Losing a bit of his courage, he looks down, hoping he had at least curbed the vulnerability on his face.

"What is happening right now?" he asks, frustration bleeding into his voice.

The hand around his tightens its grasp. "Um... we are... gonna do that thing I was talking about earlier?"

"I mean, I got that!" he splutters. "But why? How did you..."

Know you wanted to kiss me? Start liking me back? The questions are there on the tip of his tongue, but he freezes as if his foot has finally treaded on that landmine. Maybe the first question makes sense, but the second one is too far-fetched. Nothing Souma has said indicated that he liked Takumi back.

His exact words were he's never been kissed. This would be his first kiss, factually speaking. A piece of the puzzle slides into place, and Takumi does not like the picture it is portraying.

He's quick to his mask, the anger helps to hide everything else.

"Is this going to be just a kiss for you?" he demands, bitterness a sour taste in his mouth that rivals the sourness of the garlic. "Is this just a whim?"

"Whim?"

"Did you suddenly get an itch to scratch something off a bucket list and I just happened to be the only one around?"

"Well," Souma says, a stupid vague note in his voice, "it helped a lot that you were the only one around. Otherwise, how would I have known?"

Huh? Takumi looks up, brows scrunched together. Instead of clarifying though, Souma retreats into the bathroom instead, pulling Takumi in with him. For a moment, they just stand there in the darkness, holding hands, Souma's words hanging in the charged air between them.

Souma's free hand moves to grope for the lightbulb, but his arm reaches far too high. It is a thing Takumi's noticed, that Souma never really gets the right spot on the first try, something that's always irrationally irritated Takumi to no end. He steps over to flick the lightbulb on himself, and they both blink as brightness floods the room. He adjusts to the light first, suddenly aware of the lack of space between them.

They are literally a breath apart. Close enough to kiss.

As soon as Souma realises this, he stops blinking and jumps back. He shoves a palm in between them and pushes Takumi's face away.

"Hey!" Takumi's voice sounds muffled, mouth mushed against Souma's hand.

"Toothpaste first."

Souma lets go of his arm, and Takumi hates how it immediately leaves a phantom feeling of loss behind. He watches Souma dart away from him to the sink, fighting the urge to pull his hair in exasperation. What did he mean before?

Souma opens the drawers hidden behind the mirror above the sink, scouting around before pulling two toothbrushes out. Souma studies the brushes in his hand, tilting them this way and that. One of them was Souma's, obviously, but the blue one is Takumi's. It makes Souma nod to himself as he holds it to the light.

"This is a surprise tool that might help me prove a point later," he says before offering it to Takumi. "Here."

Takumi walks over. His voice is steely. "What point?"