The apartment smelled like soy sauce, garlic, and quiet panic.
It had been Yuki's idea to have dinner together—a "friendly little meal," she said. Nothing suspicious, she said. Kaito, traitor that he was, had immediately agreed.
Now, Kaito hummed an upbeat tune—the kind of catchy theme song you'd hear on a cooking show—while tossing vegetables in the air like a flamboyant chef. The pan sizzled as flames licked the sides, and he grinned like this was genuinely the best part of his day. He even winked at the stir-fry at one point, as though congratulating it for its performance.
Haruka, meanwhile, was busy attempting to disappear.
She sat rigid at the dining table, her knees glued together, fingers anxiously braiding the edge of a napkin that was rapidly becoming a nervous art project. Her face had been tomato-red since the moment she'd practically body-slammed Ryo in the hallway earlier.
Momo, her loyal and fluffy emotional support Samoyed, lay beneath the table, his head on her feet. She could feel his warmth there, a small comfort. He let out a quiet huff, as if even he was embarrassed for her.
Across the table, Yuki, ever the chaos gremlin, lounged like she owned the place. She sipped soda from a wine glass like it was vintage champagne, pinky out and all. Her phone sat face-down nearby, suspiciously close, probably recording the whole disaster for future blackmail.
And then there was Ryo.
Ryo looked like he wanted to dissolve into thin air. He sat at the farthest edge of the table, arms crossed tightly, eyes locked onto the woodgrain in front of him like it owed him money. His hoodie was back on, the hood pulled halfway up as if he was trying to cast Invisibility Level 10. He hadn't said a word since The Incident—Haruka's disastrous fall.
The silence in the room was heavy. Unspoken tension hung like steam over the table. No one dared to speak. No one, that is, except Yuki.
She shattered the silence like a hammer to a glass teacup.
"So," she said with a grin, "who knew Haruka had pro wrestling moves?"
Haruka's head snapped up. "I tripped!" she squeaked. "The floor betrayed me!"
"You launched yourself across the hallway," Ryo muttered, still staring at the table.
"I slipped!"
"Onto my spleen."
Haruka groaned and buried her face in her hands. "I swear I'm cursed. This is what I get for eating instant noodles five days in a row. The universe is punishing me."
"You fell on me because of ramen karma?" Ryo raised an eyebrow at her, expression unreadable.
Kaito chose that moment to dramatically drop a plate onto the table with a flourish. "Enough flirting, children. Time to eat."
"THAT WAS NOT FLIRTING!" Haruka and Ryo snapped at the same time.
Yuki clapped once, delighted. "A duet. Beautiful. Do it again."
"No," they said simultaneously, too fast.
Then their eyes met.
And just as quickly, they turned away.
"Hmph," Haruka huffed.
Kaito sat down with a satisfied laugh. "Alright. Stir-fry, dumplings, and a side of unresolved tension. Bon appétit."
Everyone began scooping food onto their plates. The room filled with the soft clatter of chopsticks and the occasional satisfied hum from Kaito. For a moment, it almost felt normal.
Then Haruka, trying to be helpful and Not Awkward, reached for the soy sauce.
And elbowed her water glass.
It wobbled—dramatically, like it was trying to warn her.
Then, in slow motion, tipped.
It poured its entire contents straight into Ryo's lap.
The splash was impressive. The silence afterward? Deafening.
Haruka froze mid-reach, eyes wide in horror. "Oh my gosh—I—NO—wait—"
She shot to her feet so fast her chair screeched against the floor. In a full-blown panic, she snatched a towel from the counter and lunged across the table like she was defusing a bomb.
"I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY—"
She dabbed at his pants.
His lap.
Pause.
The room stopped. Even Momo stopped.
Yuki made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. "...Oh my god."
Haruka looked down.
Realized.
Froze.
She. Was. Patting. His. Lap.
The towel fell from her hands like it had burned her.
"I—I—I wasn't—I didn't mean to—I'M GOING TO BECOME A HERMIT—"
"Please," Ryo muttered, voice low, he looked down as if trying to hide his embarrassment, "stop trying to save my dignity. It's already dead."
Kaito choked on his dumpling and nearly died on the spot. Yuki was bent over, wheezing with laughter.
"I'm going to... I don't know. Move to the mountains. Live with goats," Haruka babbled, backing away. "They don't judge. They just... chew things."
Haruka backed away like she'd just committed a felony. She collapsed into her chair, yanked Momo into her lap like a shield, and tried to disappear behind his fluff.
Ryo exhaled slowly, grabbing the abandoned towel to dab at his soaked trousers. "You're banned from handling liquids for the rest of your life."
"I'll only eat sand from now on," Haruka whispered into Momo's fur.
"Even that feels risky," Ryo replied.
"Maybe we should get her a sippy cup," Yuki mused, still grinning.
"Oh my God, please do," Haruka groaned.
"You're cute when you panic," Yuki added, as unhelpful as ever.
Haruka glared at him over Momo's head. "I am going to crawl into a closet and live there forever."
"You're not allowed in my closet," Ryo said, deadpan.
"Oh, so now I'm banned from furniture too?!"
"It's for my own safety."
Yuki lifted her glass. "To Haruka. May her reign of clumsiness be long and full of chaos."
Kaito toasted with his chopsticks. "Long live the mess."
Haruka let out a long, dramatic sigh. "I was cute once, you know. Graceful. People said I was like a swan."
"Name one person," Ryo challenged.
"…My mom."
"Doesn't count."
Haruka puffed her cheeks in indignation. "So rude."
Beneath the table, something brushed her foot. She flinched—then realized it was Ryo's.
His foot. It bumped hers.
Light. Subtle. Like an accident.
Except…
He didn't move it. And neither did she.
Her heart stuttered in her chest.
It was a tiny moment—barely a heartbeat—but it felt… electric. Not romantic, necessarily. Not yet. But something. A shift. A glitch in their usual banter-filled chaos.
She didn't dare look at him. Her face was already on fire. Instead, she nudged Momo's ears and let herself sink a little deeper into the soft fluff, pretending the table legs were more interesting than they were.
Across from her, Ryo didn't say a word. He just kept eating, slow and mechanical, like nothing had happened.
But he didn't move his foot.
And Haruka, despite the internal screaming, didn't mind.
Not one bit.