Yours to Hold (An OHSHC fanfic) [Completed]

Chapter Twenty-Eight

A/N: Hope you guys are ready for this. I've got quite a few parts in this chapter that I love, and while I considered cutting it off at one of my favorites, I decided to continue on to finish where I did. Prepare yourselves~ Heh, just kidding. It's not that bad. Hope you enjoy the story! <3

P.S. So, I don’t really know high class japanese food, and was having issues finding out cause my internet kept failing on me. In the end I went with Japanese food I could find.

I was beginning to think that Mori might know more about me than I thought. The meal that he’d picked out was exactly what I would have wanted, and was surprisingly simple for the high class restaurant we were in. Beef Teriyaki, which meant that it was covered in a sweet soy sauce that made the meat practically melt in your mouth delicious. The silence that had followed my almost question, continued past when we got our meals delivered to us. My eyes kept straying back to his plate, which was some foreign cuisine that I doubt I could have named if I’d wanted to. Or at least, it looked foreign to me.

The only thing I could pick out were the noodles, and even then they were shaped rather strangely into half-circles and rather thick, looking like something was stuffed into them.

Eventually, the silence got to me.

“What are those?” I questioned, drawing his attention.

Mori paused, then finished the bite he’d just taken. A second later he studied his plate, then turned his eyes to mine with what seemed to be a bit of curiosity.

“You don’t know?”

A bit of irritation sprung up.

“If I did, I wouldn’t ask.”

“Gyoza,” he replied, not seeming to care about the tone my previous statement had taken.

“Oh.”

I dropped my eyes back down to my own plate and picked up a pepper between my chopsticks. Gyoza, the word sounded familiar…

“Nao-chan.”

Glancing back up from my plate, I was surprised to see Mori holding his chopsticks up, one of the noodle things pinched between them. I frowned a little, glancing between it and him, having a faint idea of what he was offering, but not wanting to guess and be wrong. My cheeks turned faintly pink at the thought.

“Here,” he added, seeing my expression. “Try it.”

I hesitated, glancing around us. I could feel my entire face heating up now, and was thankful to discover that while there were dozens of people within eyesight, all of them seemed more interested in their own business than that of those around them. I then took a deep breath and willed my blush to die down as I leaned forward. As soon as I had the gyoza in my mouth, I leaned away, turning my head to hide how red my face had become.

He didn’t say anything, obviously waiting for my assessment.

“It’s not bad,” I told him, although I’d barely even noticed the flavor. I was more caught up in the method I’d tried it. “It’s not sweet, but it’s not bad.”

When I chanced a glance in his direction, I found him watching his plate as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Interest peeked, I studied him a bit closer and discovered that, if I wasn’t wrong, there appeared to be the faintest hint of pink to his face as well.

Had the motion embarrassed him as much as it had me?

“I like teriyaki,” I commented, dropping my eyes as I took the bite I’d previously grabbed for myself.