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AU: Work, Group date, Unconfessed love
Requested
Word Count: 1.6k
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
"Congratulations." How long has it been?
"Don't lose contact okay?" 5, 6 years?
"Don't worry, I won't." Liar.
Kuroo gripped the hairs on his neck tightly, grimacing. He wanted to turn around and leave, it was better than meeting those eyes again, the ones that had stared at him so kindly back then. Across the lounge, he watched her slouched posture relax into her seat. Too late now, he walked to the bar.
•──────⋅☼⋅──────•
On the 12th floor of a corporate building in downtown Tokyo, shrouded in yellow light a woman sat at her desk, typing. Hanging off the end of the wall of her cubicle, the girl's friend pouted, swinging her weight back and forth. Ignoring her friend's pestering, she continued to work.
"I don't want to, Chihiro."
"Please, (Y/N)? I'll pay for your food."
The rapid typing stopped for a moment, "Let me finish this up first."
Free food had always been a soft spot. Ever since university, she's had a habit of saving her money and jumping on her friends' backs for food. Not that they'd feed her half the time anyway. The habit has hindered (Y/N)'s ability to indulge in even the smallest of things but has made her great at (unintentionally) getting people to buy her things. Typically small, like cheap food, but things nonetheless.
Despite (Y/N)'s agreement, Chihiro didn't leave, instead choosing to wait, knowing that at the next opportunity (Y/N) would likely run home.
Now here she was, standing in front of a bar, holding Chihiro back by her arm as they watched their other co-worker friends walk in with another group.
"'Hangout', huh?" she said letting her short trimmed nails dig into the skin of her friend's arm.
"I'm sorry okay? We needed another person to come and I knew you wouldn't agree if I told you it was a group date."
"Ya, I know. I have reasons for that. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."
Having none of it, Chihiro grabbed the woman's arm, "Nope, you're coming with me."
Inside the bar were various tables and a counter for people to get alcohol from. Waiters and waitresses were walking around in white shirts with black dress pants and clean aprons tied around their waists as they held trays of food and drinks above their heads. Above each table was a vintage lightbulb that gave off dull orange light and probably cost more electricity then it was worth. On top of that steal pipe detailing added to the rustic working man's home feel. It all just screamed, 'let us take your money.'
