Tastes Like Home | Various!Blue Lock

Nineteen

"She's been in there for a hot minute. Don't cha think we should check on her?" Meguru tilted his head, peering toward the women's restroom like he could somehow see through the door if he tried hard enough.

Hyoma exhaled through his nose, already mid-pace. He had been walking the same stretch of hallway for the past thirty minutes—five steps forward, turn, five steps back—like a caged animal pretending he wasn't worried.

Half an hour. That was how long it had been since (Y/n) disappeared into the restroom the second she caught sight of her cheating boyfriend across the lobby.

It wasn't hard to imagine why she ran. Shock alone could make someone nauseous. Anger could. Humiliation definitely could. 

Still. Not knowing was worse.

The hallway was too bright, too public. People passed every now and then, glancing at the two boys hovering suspiciously close to the women's bathroom. Neither of them could exactly walk in and check. And that was the problem.

"I mean," Meguru continued lightly, rocking on his heels, "you could pass for a girl—"

Hyoma stopped pacing slowly turning his head as he glared at Meguru.

"—think about it, Chigiri!" Meguru added quickly, hands raised in surrender but a grin firmly in place. "Long hair, pretty face. We just need a distraction—"

"...I am not getting arrested for sneaking into the women's bathroom," Hyoma replied flatly. He dragged a hand down his face, red strands slipping between his fingers. "And I'm not doing anything that might stress (Y/n) out more."

That was the real reason. If she wanted them in there, she would've texted. If she needed help, she would've called. He hoped.

Meguru's grin widened, mischief flickering in his eyes. "Oooh. First-name basis?"

Hyoma's jaw tightened as he resisted the urge to sucker punch his naughty friend in the face. Still, it seems as though they all merely dealt with concern in different ways.

After excusing himself earlier on to go fetch something he'd left back at the baggage counter, Seishiro soon returned with a familiar sunflower-themed jacket in hand—one that both Hyoma and Meguru recognized as something the white-haired boy had purchased for (Y/n) the other day.

"... But (L/n)'s already wearing warm clothes, is she not?" Meguru tilted his head to the side curiously. "She's even layered all extra snug like wires with cable insulation!"

Hyoma grimaced at his friend's analogy, but turned to acknowledge Seishiro's earnest determination.

"Just want her to wear it because it looks better on her," he said plainly. "Why'd you buy her a solid colored jacket anyway? It looks boring." He glanced at Meguru.

Meguru gawked, absolutely not willing to take that level of disrespect (though it was true that he didn't have the best fashion style... at all). 

"Excuse me, I didn't pick out her shirt, she did—" 

As if to save Seishiro from formally making an enemy out of Meguru, Eita's voice came piercing through the hallway's relative silence.

"Hey, she in the ladies' room?" 

The sound echoed slightly against the tiled walls.

All three of them turned at once.

The playful smirk slipped right off Meguru's face. Seishiro straightened from his usual curvaceous slouch, eyes sharpening in an instant. Even Hyoma stopped pacing.