By the third day, the pattern is impossible to ignore. You notice it even before lunch startsâthe way Nagi's towering frame casually drifts into your peripheral vision during the last few minutes of class, his pace slower than usual as if he's in no hurry to leave. The first time, you thought it was a coincidence. The second time, maybe laziness. But now, as you catch him waiting just outside the cafeteria door, hands stuffed into his pockets and head tilted as if he's doing you a favor by existing, you know better.
"Did you 'forget' your lunch again?" you ask as you approach, a knowing smile playing on your lips.
Nagi blinks down at you, his expression as unreadable as always. "Mm." He gives a small nod, like that's explanation enough.
You roll your eyes but can't help the faint chuckle that escapes. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you just admitted you want my bento."
"Maybe," he replies with a shrug, trailing after you as you head to your usual spot by the window.
The two of you settle in without much fanfare, the ease of your interaction surprising even yourself. It's strangeâhaving Seishiro Nagi, of all people, voluntarily sit with you day after day. He's not exactly known for being social, and yet here he is, his presence somehow becoming a natural part of your lunchtime routine.
You open your bento, the neatly arranged food glinting in the afternoon sunlight. Before you can even offer, Nagi is already leaning closer, his gaze fixed on the contents.
"Help yourself," you say dryly, sliding the box toward him.
"Thanks," he murmurs, picking up his chopsticks with the same unhurried ease he does everything else.
You watch as he takes his first bite, his expression softening ever so slightly. It's a small reactionâbarely noticeable to anyone elseâbut by now, you've learned to recognize it.
"You really like my cooking, huh?" you ask, resting your chin on your hand as you observe him.
He nods, chewing thoughtfully. "It's good," he says simply, as if that one word holds all the weight in the world.
For a moment, you sit in silence, the sounds of the cafeteria fading into the background. It's easy, this strange camaraderie that's formed between you. You don't know when it started, but somewhere between the teasing and the shared meals, you've grown to look forward to these moments.
"So," you say, breaking the quiet, "are you ever going to make your own lunch, or is this your plan now? Mooch off me until graduation?"
Nagi pauses mid-bite, his chopsticks hovering in the air. "Dunno," he replies after a moment, his tone so casual it almost makes you laugh. "Yours is better than anything I'd make."
"Wow," you say with mock offense, leaning back in your chair. "You really know how to charm a girl, don't you?"
He glances up, his gray eyes meeting yours for a beat longer than usual. "It's true," he says simply, as if that's all the explanation you need.
Your cheeks warm, and you quickly look away, busying yourself with the remaining food in the bento. It's ridiculous how easily he gets under your skin, even without trying.
By the time lunch ends, Nagi is leaning back in his chair, his posture so relaxed he might as well be napping. You gather your things, half expecting him to wander off like he usually does, but instead, he lingers, his gaze following you as you pack up.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asks, his tone so nonchalant it catches you off guard.
You pause, glancing at him with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You're unbelievable."
"Is that a yes?"
You laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah, yeah. Same time tomorrow."
As you leave the cafeteria, you can't help but smile to yourself. You're not sure when sharing lunch turned into an unspoken tradition, but somehow, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
something to snack on .áï¹