Friends With Benefits | Chishiya x Reader

Chapter Twenty-Two

☆ In which you hone your origami skills. ☆

You sit cross-legged on your bed folding delicate paper butterflies, the pile of winged origami sitting on your bedsheets growing steadily as the gentle morning sun warms your back. A messy stack of blue squares is placed next to you on top of the white linen. The paper had been handed to you by Chishiya earlier today, as he walked without invitation into your room.

"There is a thousand." He'd said, holding out the paper stack and flicking a wayward glance towards the additional post-it on your mirror.  

The blonde now sits on the floor with his back against the wall, engrossed in another novel you'd dug from the depths of your drawers. You have a feeling he really does like the romance novels you provide him with, but you say nothing as he flicks through the pages intently - you are not keen on sitting through another lecture on how the romance genre is Unrealistic and Built Upon Lies. The two of you sit in companionable silence, marred only by the rustling of paper on both parts.

Occasionally, you look up from your creating to observe Chishiya. He looks surprisingly at peace with the absence of his usual condescending expressions. Every so often he raises his brows slightly at a passage in the book, or moves his hand to brush his hair back from his face. The number of butterflies that form under your fingers are nothing compared to the ones fluttering somewhere behind your ribcage. Chishiya's edges are softened by the sunlight, and he looks positively golden. Looking at him, you feel the pull of something you cannot put words to.   

You turn your attention back to the butterflies rather hurriedly. 

The blue butterflies that litter your bed are still nowhere near a thousand, but you believe you are making great headway. You know the reason for the thousand squares of paper - the story of Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes, which you had mentioned to Chishiya just once in passing. It was a popular story amongst your friends back in high school, and you remember a group of you scrambling to finish an assortment of origami animals before someone's birthday. The legend goes that one who makes a thousand paper cranes would be granted a special wish, but since you could not remember for the life of you how to make cranes, the butterflies would have to do. Because of the story, birthday origami had become a kind of tradition between you and your friends over the years. 

"It was nice," you'd told Chishiya, "to open your desk on your birthday and find cranes falling out of it."

It surprises you that he'd remembered that offhand comment, especially since he had replied, "I don't believe in birthdays," a nonsensical response that had caused you to snort at the time. How could a person not believe in birthdays? It's not as if they were based off some far-flung myth. They were, quite literally, the day you were born. 

Presently, you squint at the man. Perhaps he meant birthday wishes, which made much more sense. Chishiya, overly cynical, was not likely to believe in the Magic of Birthdays. 

Chishiya glances up from the book, head resting languidly against the wall. You arrange your face into the expression of someone who had not been scrutinizing another for their lack of birthday spirit. 

"How many?" he asks, indicating the pile of butterflies.

"Maybe fifty or so?" You lower the half-folded butterfly in your hands to evaluate the pile. "I lost track a while ago."

"That's a long way from a thousand," he says, grinning lazily.

You continue to fold. "Why don't you come help me, then?" You suggest, placing the now finished butterfly down and reaching for another piece of paper.

He looks at your hands, as if considering it. "I don't know how to make butterflies."

"I'll teach you." You say, offering him a square with a smile.