When the Stars and Flowers Fall...

🧾

"The couple's discount offer."

For some reason, my tea went down the wrong way at that moment. I cough, covering my mouth as my throat and eyes burn. I glance at Matsushita, who's wearing a sharp-toothed smile. His eyes are like polished blades.

"No--" I splutter, still choking on my tea. Matsushita's face doesn't change, doesn't so much as twitch. Kasaoka casts a concerned look my way. I shake my head. I'm okay. He switches his gaze to Matsushita, and it's different. He smiles, but there's something very Matsushita-like about it that makes me shiver.

"I don't think this special offer applies to us, I'm afraid," Kasaoka says smoothly. Matsushita wavers at Kasaoka's composure. I watch his eyebrows draw a millimetre closer.

"Are you sure? Sir?" Matsushita is deeply flustered. The waiter from earlier appears at his side, smiling at Kasaoka and with a raised eyebrow at Matsushita. I see his hand extend behind his back towards Matsushita's, but Matsushita snatches his hand further away. He finally regains control.

"I see. This is your bill." His voice is clipped. He places down a receipt with the price circled at the bottom, then gracefully walks off elsewhere.

Before Kasaoka can see the price, I grab the receipt. The price on the bottom nearly makes me gasp, so I cough, trying to pretend that it's from my earlier choking. ¥12,000. Nearly what my dad makes in a whole overtime day. Not that overtime changes his pay.

Breathe.

Lock eyes with Kasaoka.

Smile.

Tell him you'll pay.

Ignore his shock.

Ignore his words.

Ignore the price.

"Why won't you let me pay?!" Kasaoka's voice is tight with frustration. His eyebrows are knotted and his hands are fisted. Be calm. Be reasonable.

"Because I was the one who invited you here." There. Get your point across. Kasaoka's facial expression changes. He knows now. Both eyebrows are raised. Arms are crossed.

"But wasn't I the one who said we should come here, to The Terrarium?" He was meant to give up. I sigh and tighten my lips. Who invited who isn't an argument I can win, so I change the battleground.

"So do you think I can't afford to pay?" Kasaoka won't say yes because that's who he is. He puts his crossed arms on the table in front of us, bringing his head down to my level.

"You think I can't?" he says. Weak move, but probably the only thing he could say without offending me. I place my fists either side of me on the table.

"Just because you can afford it, doesn't mean you need to pay," I say, surprisingly calm. But there's a growing pressure in my chest that threatens to explode if I don't diffuse it soon. Kasaoka stops trying to hide his agitation. He lets a frustrated sigh escape his lips.

"Okay, fine, but doesn't the guy usually pay?" He doesn't like saying it. I can tell from his dropped gaze and the tightening of his fingers around his arms as they remain crossed. Nevertheless, his comment makes something more than annoyance prickles in my chest. I let my frown deepen.

"It's the 21st Century. And besides, this isn't..." I'm not sure if I want to continue, but he raises his eyes to meet mine and I think we both know how that sentence was going to end. And Kasaoka's eyes are challenging me to say the words.

"...a date."

I will myself to hold onto his stare, but I can't. I drop my eyes to the slip of paper in my hand. It's not. I'm right. But the uncomfortable feeling in my heart doesn't subside.

"...Show me the receipt, Nakamura." His voice is even, measured, resigned. Like he was expecting more. The crumpled digits on the receipt dance in front of my eyes. There's no point in hiding it from him anymore. I sigh, and slide the paper into the middle of the table.

Watching me carefully, Kasaoka picks it up, translucent paper between nimble fingers. As he reads the numbers, his face remains still. He drums the fingers of his other hand on the edge of the table.

"Why don't we just split the bill?" he asks. "Then both of us would be--"

"Stop." Everything is shaking. My words, my clenched jaw, my fists that lie on the table. "I just-- Just let me pay for it. Please." I know I'm being illogical. Any sane person would be happy if someone offered to pay for everything, to split the bill. I know. But.

"Why?" Kasaoka doesn't sound angry. He sounds little more than mildly curious. The fact that he's so at ease sets me on edge. Clearly the price has nothing to do with this. For him. I don't know why he looks so fascinated, and it even looks like there's a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Because I don't need you doing things for me." I didn't mean to spit the words out so bitterly. His eyes flare open. He looks down at his crossed arms in front of him, smiling slowly. When he looks up, he looks... tired. Or maybe I'm just used to his bright smile that anything else makes him look drained.

"I--" He looks like he's about to say something else, something which would draw the life out from his eyes like the gradual unravelling of thread. His eyebrows knit together. "Why..." When he meets my eyes, there's hope in his. My heart quickens. Hope is a dangerous drug.

"Why can't I do things for you?"

Why.

Such a simple question.

Such a frequent question in the conversations between me and him.

Such an annoying question because I can't answer it myself. I grit my teeth. Because I hate being indebted to someone. Because I hate being treated like a baby. But why. "Because..."

I'm saved.

Matsushita arrives at our table, soundlessly, seamlessly. He extends a hand towards the centre of the table. He plucks the receipt off the marble surface with an elegant black-gloved hand. The paper flickers at his fingertips like a flame.

Then, with the air of a priest at communion, he takes the receipt and tears it cleanly in half. The pieces flutter to the table like petals on the wind.

"It's on the house."

Matsushita turns to leave, so hurriedly, I grab his sleeve. I've stood up, the hem of his black suit sleeve in my fist. I'm about to speak, when I notice tension along my left arm. I look down to see Kasaoka tugging at my own sleeve. His eyes meet mine. Somewhere in the back of my mind I think about how stupid us three must look, chained together. I'm about to pull my arm out of Kasaoka's reach, but then he makes this tiny movement, the slightest shaking of his head.

That moment when I'm focused on Kasaoka is when I loosen my grip on Matsushita. He slides his sleeve out of my fingers, then slips into the shadows. Kasaoka lets go of my arm too, slowly. I let out a frustrated huff of my breath.

"What were you doing! He got away," I say, slowly sitting back down. He grins. It's not one of his tired smiles, or his impossible smiles. It must be magnetic, because it harder and harder for me to suppress my own.

"Free food." He raises his eyebrows. I don't deny that not having to pay that outrageous sum lets me relax a little. Kasaoka shifts forward, looking down at the table. "Nakamura--"

My eyes shoot to his, instantly wary. "What." He presses his lips together.

"Why did you invite me here?" That question again. Why. "Apart from wanting to enjoy my outstanding company, I mean." He's back to being cocky, that wonderfully easy smile melting across his open features. But his question makes me want to smash my skull open on the marble tabletop between us.

How could I forget?

~~~~~~~~~~
A/N

hope you enjoyed this!
I'm trying to slowly include more details of Sumire's home life...
also... another Matsushita POV coming up soon lmao (I enjoyed writing his ripping-up-the-receipt scene way too much - what did u think? sorry for the random photo, it's just some receipt i found on the internet lol)
any predictions for why Sumire invited Kasaoka?
also I definitely need to work on my pacing cos this day is gonna take forever, so any tips for improving my pacing would be very appreciated :)
thank you always!
yours faithfully,
blue xox