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A couple of hours later, long after he had returned from his aunt's place, Mishima was busy completing his nightly ritual of checking the Phansite for potential requests and targets when his phone chimed next to his laptop, effectively distracting him. For a long moment, he considered not checking it, doubting it would be anything important. But he waved that idea away quickly enough, far too aware that his aunt was probably checking in on him after their conversation earlier. Even after deciding to check his phone, though, Mishima struggled to pull himself away from the information on his screen. He managed to eventually, only to blink in surprise at the name on his phone screen. The message wasn't from Kawakami, like Mishima had expected, but rather from Kurusu. The message itself, when Mishima unlocked his phone to read it properly, was simple, basic even, but even that was enough to make Mishima's heart race.
Kurusu: Meet me at LeBlanc tomorrow, at around five.
Mishima stared at the message vacantly, rereading it several times as his brain struggled to process what it meant. There wasn't much he could glean from such a short text, but it didn't seem to be a fake text. It was written in the exact same brusk manner Kurusu always sent his texts. But. It made no sense. Kurusu never texted first. Never. Mishima was always the one who invited Kurusu out or initiated conversations. Never Kurusu. So. So it had to be something important. Right? There was no other reason for Kurusu to reach out first. Although. Why would he wait until after school the next day to discuss it? It couldn't have been that important if it could wait that long. Except. It was late - a little past eleven o'clock - and they couldn't really discuss important business at school, so it probably made sense to wait until they could get some privacy. Right. That had to be it. At least, that's what Mishima told himself as he quickly messaged back.
Me: Is everything okay?
Me: Is something wrong?
Me: Is it something important?
As soon as the messages were sent, Mishima scowled to himself, facepalming as he reread his own messages. Obviously, something was wrong, or it was important. Kurusu wouldn't have bothered with him if that weren't the case. Mishima wasn't really his friend, despite the lies Kurusu kept telling, so there was no reason for Kurusu to reach out to him if it wasn't something important. Maybe Kurusu felt Mishima was abusing his position as Phansite admin to target people he hated again (he wasn't, he hadn't even considered asking Kurusu to change the hearts of any of the people who had bullied him recently, or his parents, or anything) or he thought Mishima had fucked up in some other way? Mishima had no clue how he had pissed off Kurusu this time, but his heart ached in his chest at the thought. He had screwed up big time, he must have, but he didn't even know how. Not knowing didn't change the fact that he had, however, nor did it change the fact that Kurusu was pissed at him. That Kurusu probably hated him and would never talk to him again and would turn his back just like everyone else had already and- A new notification from his phone distracted Mishima from his panicked thoughts, and he rushed to check the new message.
Kurusu: I just want to talk to you.
That just made Mishima frown. It did not answer any of his questions. To be honest, it just left him with more, but he shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind, into a box hidden beneath the floorboards of his mind. If he didn't, he knew he would spiral, falling down a rabbit hole of self-doubt and hatred, his mind trying to convince him that Kurusu was going to hurt him in some way. He couldn't risk falling down that hole. He couldn't. It was a dark, dangerous place that he always struggled to escape. One he didn't know he could escape from again. So he ignored his whirlwind thoughts as he typed out a simple response.
Me: I'll see you then.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
It was cold, wet and miserable when Mishima arrived just outside of LeBlanc at five minutes to five the next day. It reflected his feelings pretty damn well, he mused. Reminded him of pathetic fallacy. He didn't know what to expect when he entered the cafe, so he lingered outside, building up his confidence. Kurusu hadn't said anything about why he wanted to meet at school, which was enough to have Mishima's blood pumping fast. Admittedly, Mishima hadn't asked Kurusu about it, but he didn't think he could. If it was something important, Kurusu would have refused to discuss it at school. If it was a mistake Mishima had made, something he had done to upset Kurusu, Kurusu wouldn't have said anything either. Too polite to publically ream Mishima for whatever he had done. Mishima wouldn't have gotten any answers to his questions, so he hadn't bothered asking them. But that didn't mean they didn't stress him out.
That stress stuck with Mishima as he finally gathered the courage to enter LeBlanc, the soft chime of the bell above the door announcing his arrival. That small sound alone was almost enough to make Mishima cringe into himself, hating the fact that it announced his arrival and ruined any chances he had of sneaking away, if necessary. Not that he could have snuck away anyway, since the man behind the counter looked up as soon as he pushed the door open. He was the only one in the cafe, at least as far as Mishima could see, and he appeared to be busy cleaning a cup. Not that that kept him from greeting Mishima with a gruff, "What can I get ya, kid?"
The man - Sakura Sojiro, Mishima vaguely remembered. Kurusu had mentioned him during one of the very few conversations that weren't about the Phantom Thieves that Mishima had allowed - asked his question politely enough, tilting his head as he placed the cup he held on a shelf. That was enough to make Mishima hesitate in the doorway, one foot still out of the door as he considered his options. He knew he could leave before Kurusu even knew he was there - the chances of him returning, or even being allowed to do so were extremely slim - and come up with some sort of excuse. Or he could lie, say he got lost. Or he could-
Mishima didn't get a chance to come up with a proper plan before Kurusu appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Something about the younger teen almost seemed. Soft. His jumper was large, too large for his lithe frame, hanging off of him to reveal impossibly pretty shoulders and a hint of collarbone, covering his hands in adorable sweater paws. He wore old jeans too, worn out through years of wear and tear. He was unfairly attractive, and it was enough to stop Mishima in his tracks, keeping him from running as Kurusu explained to Sakura, "This is my friend Mishima. I told you about him?"
That was enough to jar Mishima back to reality, his jaw falling open. That. He must have heard Kurusu wrong. There was no way he had told his guardian about Mishima . No. There would be no reason for Kurusu to do so, let alone refer to Mishima as his friend while doing so. He. He must have lied, to give Sakura an explanation for his presence. It. It simply didn't make sense, there was no way, he must have misheard-
"Ah, okay," Sakura said, dragging Mishima from his spiralling thoughts. He shared a couple of quiet words with Kurusu for a few moments, enough for Mishima's anxiety to start climbing. He couldn't hear what they were saying and it set him on edge. They had to have something they didn't want him to hear. Sakura was probably telling Kurusu that he didn't want Mishima there, or something along those lines. He was going to throw Mishima out and the whole trip would have been worth nothing, it would have just proven that Kurusu did in fact hate Mishima, it- Sakura cleared his throat and focused on Mishima before continuing, "The name's Sakura Sojiro, but everyone calls me Boss."
Acting on pure instinct, from the years of training his parents had forced him through, Mishima was barely able to pull himself together enough to respond. Dragging himself from his racing thoughts, he bowed slightly and replied, "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."
That earned him an amused snort from Sakura, and Mishima's heart rate jumped into overdrive at the noise, his head flying up to assess the damage. He didn't think he'd done anything weird - he had followed his parents' exact instructions on how to talk to an adult - but he must have done for Sakura to laugh at him. He must have screwed up again. It was bad enough he had done something to make Kurusu invite him over, to discuss his failings, but he had done something worse, he must have.
The panic racing through Mishima must have shown on his face, despite his best efforts to smother the fear he felt, since Sakura rolled his eyes - fondly, almost, but that was just because he was looking at Kurusu - and shook his head. That did nothing to dissuade Mishima's panic, something Sakura picked up on as he smirked slightly and joked, "Good to know Akira has more polite friends than he does rowdy ones."
That. That was not the reaction Mishima had expected, to be honest. Ridicule, annoyance, being yelled at, that sort of thing was more along the lines of the reaction he had expected. But being praised? That had not been anywhere on his list of probable reactions, so he had not considered how to react in response. It left him flabbergasted, especially Sakura's use of the word 'friend'. Because shouldn't he have been able to see it? That Mishima was not good enough to be Kurusu's friend? The stench of failure, of disappointment, of weakness always seemed to follow Mishima, so it made no sense for Sakura to not see it. It really didn't. Which was why Mishima found himself stuck, considering the interaction, as Sakura turned to Kurusu and asked, "This the guy you said you're making dinner for?"
That. What?
Mishima couldn't hold back the small, confused noise that crawled up his throat as Kurusu nodded. That. That made no sense? Why would Kurusu- For what reason would he- But- But Mishima had done nothing to deserve such kindness? He hadn't done anything to deserve Kurusu even talking to him, let alone going out of his way to cook for him. He. What?
As Mishima's brain broke, Kurusu and Sakura shared a concerned look. The fact that someone simply offering to cook for him was enough to make Mishima fall to pieces like that was troubling, to say the least. Kurusu and Sakura didn't want to disturb Mishima while he dealt with his crisis (he was not dealing with it. At. All. Instead, he was internally screaming and wondering what the hell his life had become), but they knew that they couldn't leave him to spiral. So, after a quick silent conversation, Kurusu spoke up, declaring, "I'm making you dinner, Mishima."
That was enough to drag Mishima back to the present, although his mind was still screaming at him. He simply couldn't comprehend why Kurusu would do something like that. He couldn't understand why anyone - except for his aunt, of course, who loved him like her own son, who was the only person who actually gave a shit about him - would bother with him. Not that he would say that out loud (that kind of thing is what gets you curious visits from child services, and he was not about to give his parents another reason to be angry at him). But still. Mishima took a moment to gather himself, taking a deep breath, before cocking his head to the side, frowning and asking, "But... why?"
"You said it's your poor week at home. I thought I'd help by making you dinner," Kurusu said, his tone suggesting it was obvious. But it really wasn't. Not to Mishima, who frowned and shook his head, excuses already falling off of his lips as he started to move back towards the door. He wasn't even really conscious of when he had moved into the coffee shop properly, but he internally cursed himself for doing so as he backed away. Unfortunately, though, he didn't get a chance to get more than a couple of words out or move more than a few steps, since he was cut off by Sakura.
"Just take him up on the offer, kid." the old man ordered, tipping his hat as he walked towards the door. It made Mishima come to a halt, instinct telling him to stop when an adult spoke to him, even as every other part of him yelled at him to run. His hesitation lasted long enough for Sakura to head out of the door, flipping the cafe door sign to 'closed' as he went, and calling over his shoulder, "I've gotta head home to feed Futaba, so you two better not cause any trouble."
As soon as Sakura was gone, silence fell. It was tense, almost suffocating, and Mishima wanted to run from it. It reminded him too much of the calm before the storm, the moments of peace he got before his parents started arguing or yelling at him. He hated it. So he had to end it, stepping backwards quickly and waving his hands placatingly while muttering, "I... You don't need to do anything like that for me, Kurusu. I... I don't want to be a bother, I can sort out my own dinner-"
Whatever other mumbled excuses Mishima was about to release fell short when Kurusu moved quickly, gently grasping onto his wrist to stop him from escaping. Kurusu's hand was warm , almost painfully so, as he held Mishima gently. It was more than enough to make the blue-haired teen still, eyes wide and lost as Kurusu smiled slightly at him. In the low light of the coffee shop, Kurusu was somehow even more beautiful than usual. It was disarming, distracting, and part of why Mishima didn't pull away while Kurusu said, "I'm not just helping you out, Mishima. I need someone to taste-test a new recipe I'm working on. I figured you'd give me a straight answer."
Oh.
Kurusu hadn't offered to cook for him out of some misplaced sense of duty, Mishima realised, he just needed a second set of eyes - or, well, tastebuds - for his new recipe. That was good. It was enough to make Mishima relax, which allowed Kurusu to lead him over to the counter and gently push him into a seat. Mishima didn't fight it, content with the knowledge that he was there to be helpful , rather than be a bother or get yelled at for making some kind of mistake. He remained happily seated as Kurusu rounded the counter and started on his curry. The sight of Kurusu working, however, instantly ruined Mishima's mood. He couldn't just sit there and do nothing, he simply couldn't. He had to be a good guest. His parents had drilled that into him when he was so young, he couldn't even really remember the lessons. But he knew he had to help. So he started to stand, offering, "Is there any way I can help you?"
His question earned him a soft smile and a small shake of Kurusu's head as the other teen placed a cup of coffee. That did nothing to settle the unease in Mishima's stomach, but when he moved again, ready to protest, Kurusu grasped his wrist once again, forcing him into silence. Mishima hated how much power Kurusu had over him, how one little touch was enough to have him falling in line, but he didn't say anything as Kurusu tilted his head and questioned, "How am I supposed to learn to cook if I'm always getting help?
That. That was actually a good point, Mishima had to concede. He wouldn't have learnt how to cook himself if he'd had someone always hovering. But that didn't mean he was comfortable with it, even as he sat back down, wrapping his hands around the cup Kurusu had left for him and muttering a soft thanks. Kurusu just hummed in acknowledgement as he got to work. It was. Nice. For once, Mishima didn't find the silence that surrounded them to be. Charged. Instead, it was warm, comforting, almost like that one blanket Kawakami had brought him, before his dad had found it and burned it, claiming no man needed something as soft and girly as a nice blanket. It was. Frankly, the silence was too comfortable, too nice. It was something Mishima could let himself get used to, if he weren't careful. Besides, he knew he wasn't there to simply bask in the lovely environment. He had to be useful. He had to prove he was worth keeping around. So he started to ramble about a new potential target he had found. But he didn't get more than a couple of words out before Kurusu cut him off, asking, "What kind of movies do you like?"
That was honestly the last thing Mishima had expected Kurusu to ask. It just. That kind of question - small talk, almost - was not part of their dynamic. It just wasn't. Their entire dynamic depended on one thing - Mishima being useful. His taste in movies didn't exactly factor into that.
Although , Mishima mused, taking a long sip of his coffee to gather his thoughts and get ready to answer Kurusu adequately, Kurusu seems to be set on breaking the rules. Sharing his lunch with me, insisting we're friends when we're not, and asking me to be his taste-tester doesn't exactly fit the kind of relationship we share. And Kurusu does love breaking rules. Makes sense he would break social ones too.
When Kurusu glanced over at him, visibly awaiting an answer, Mishima knew he couldn't stall any longer. Of course, he hadn't reached a satisfactory conclusion as to what he should tell Kurusu. But he figured, what the hell? Might as well tell the truth. So, cautiously, hoping that Kurusu wouldn't mock him or get annoyed by his choices, he replied, "Uh... I like horror movies? And documentaries. Mostly about nature or space... Um. You?"
"I haven't seen many documentaries," Kurusu admitted, a small, almost guilty smile tugging at his lips as he shrugged. The sight was oddly adorable, and Mishima had to take a sip of his coffee to hide the stupidly smitten smile on his own face, humming to acknowledge Kurusu's statement. That just made Kurusu grin, something bright and fleeting as he turned to add something to the curry pot. The glimpse of happiness looked so damn good on Kurusu, and it took everything Mishima had to hold himself back. He wanted to be the cause of that joy, to be the reason behind Kurusu's happiness. But he knew he couldn't be. He had to remind himself as such firmly, especially when Kurusu turned back to him, grin still in place, and continued, "and I like horror movies too. Although, I do prefer horror comedies."
"Fair enough," Mishima made sure to keep his tone even, polite, when he replied. He honestly had no clue how they had gotten here. And now they were there, he had no idea what to do or say, other than just. Go along with it. It wasn't his usual way of playing things - he liked to plan ahead, to know what to expect - but it was the best he could do when thrown into the deep end like he was then. He ignored how his mind screamed at him for being so casual with Kurusu, ignoring the (unfortunately correct) part that yelled that he didn't deserve it as he considered what to say next. Kurusu glanced at him, seemingly looking for some more input, so Mishima shoved his panic to the back of his mind and asked, "Have you seen the Scary Movie series?"
Kurusu shook his head at that, making a small, curious noise as he did. That. Ugh. That meant Mishima had to carry the conversation, at least for a little bit. He hated doing that without a plan. But it didn't look like he had a choice, so he said, "It's an American horror comedy series. I've only seen the first one, because it's based on my favourite horror series, Scream, but I've heard the others are good. Maybe you could check them out?"
"Hm. Sounds good. And... Scream, was it? What's that about?" Kurusu replied, looking over his shoulder as he asked. Something about the domesticity of the whole situation had Mishima aching . Because he knew. He knew this wasn't his. He couldn't keep this moment. He didn't deserve it. He wasn't good enough for it. But then, at that moment - surrounded by a soft blanket of comfort, the sweet, spicy, head aroma of curry, the rich fullness of coffee - Mishima wanted to bottle it all up, to keep it for whenever Kurusu inevitably abandoned him. But he knew he couldn't. It wasn't his to keep. The memory of that moment - that one, truly good moment - would fade, like every single one of Mishima's other memories. Mishima knew it was only a matter of time before he lost this too. But he decided to grasp onto it for now, to hold it as tightly and as close as he could until it slipped through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. So, he forced himself to focus, to take everything in as he replied.
"Scream is an American slasher series with six films so far. It mostly follows the exploits of Sidney Prescott, although the last two films are focused on- Wait, that's spoilers," Mishima shrugged awkwardly when he almost gave away a very important plot point for Scream 2022. His hesitance earned him a small chuckle from Kurusu, who just murmured that he didn't mind. But still. Mishima knew how annoying spoilers could be. He didn't want to bother Kurusu, not if he ever decided to check the franchise out (Mishima doubted it, of course. Why would Kurusu ever check out anything he suggested? He most likely only asked about Scream to keep the conversation going), so he decided to cut himself off before he got too into his train of thought and annoyed Kurusu. Instead of continuing to babble, Mishima decided to give Kurusu the Sparknotes version of the series, continuing, "Well, anyways. Scream is used to discuss various tropes and such with horror movies. The first covers the basic tropes, the second goes over the stereotypes of a direct sequel, the third discusses the ideas behind the third part of a trilogy, and so on. So. Yeah."
"That sounds pretty good," Kurusu spoke up, stirring the curry in the pot as he turned his head to look at Mishima. He looked unfairly attractive like that, the heat of the steam coming from the food giving his cheeks a pretty tinge of pink. His eyes, wide and so, so beautiful in the lighting of the coffee shop, had something akin to hope dancing in them. But that made no sense. There was nothing Kurusu had to hope for. He had no reason to look at Mishima like that, he- Before Mishima could start overthinking it, Kurusu continued, "Maybe we could watch them together sometime?"
What?
That. There had to be more to Kurusu asking that than there seemed to be on the surface. Because there was no way, no possible reason why, Kurusu suggested they watch some movies together. Absolutely not. It had to be a trick of his own mind. This whole evening must have been. A dream, most likely. Because there was no way any of it had actually happened, especially Kurusu implying that he wanted to spend time with Mishima. That was impossible. It-
Mishima took too long to answer, it seemed, hesitating for so long that Kurusu started to get antsy. He began to fidget with the ladle he held to stir the curry, rubbing the handle between his palms to make it spin. Mishima's lack of an answer was enough to make Kurusu backtrack, even as he kept a steady voice, feigning confidence and declaring, "It's alright if you don't want to, of course. I just assumed you'd have copies, since it's your favourite series, but I don't, so..."
That. Thank god. Mishima settled easily then. Kurusu hadn't wanted to spend time with him, that would have been absurd. He had just hoped to just Mishima to watch the films. That was good. And it made more sense. So, he smiled and relaxed, nodding and replying, "I watched them on Netflix last time I saw them, and they should still be on there. Except for the sixth, but that's still only in cinemas. I'll lend you my laptop so you can watch them."
For some reason, that made Kurusu furrow his brow and hesitate, like he had something to say. He almost seemed disappointed. But that didn't make any sense. Mishima had offered him a perfect out - he got to watch the films, but didn't need to deal with Mishima's annoying self. He should have been happy with the compromise. Overjoyed, even, not unhappy. He-
"I don't exactly feel... comfortable, borrowing your laptop. This place doesn't exactly have great security..." Kurusu spoke up, turning back to the curry. Mishima didn't get the implication behind the words, not even when Kurusu sent him a meaningful look. Did he mean he didn't want to watch the films? Or did he not want to borrow Mishima's computer to do so? Did he have his own Netflix account? Or- Kurusu cut Mishima's wandering thoughts off by asking, "Could you come by with your laptop and watch with me? I'd feel more comfortable if you kept an eye on it yourself, to make sure nothing happens."
Oh. That made sense. Mishima nodded his agreement when Kurusu turned back to him, eyes wide and curious. That was enough of an answer for Kurusu, who smiled softly back at him (and damn, he looked too damn good when he smiled, it was not good for Mishima's heart) before refocusing on the curry. Silence descended again, but this time Mishima didn't fill the void with chatter. He didn't know what to say, it didn't seem like Kurusu wanted him to talk about the Phansite, and he knew his voice could be grating. So he remained quiet, finishing his coffee and sneaking subtle looks at Kurusu. He was beautiful, and Mishima couldn't help watching him work. It was a memory he wanted to keep for as long as he could.
Although, he was soon distracted when an unfortunately familiar voice drifted from the TV playing quietly. It was Akechi, giving yet another one of his speeches. Mishima almost sighed as he tuned into the interview, barely holding the noise back so he didn't bother Kurusu, or make him think he was ungrateful. On the screen, Akechi was discussing the Phantom Thieves, as per usual. Get some new material , Mishima thought, although he was well aware of the irony of him - the person who only ever talks to the closest thing he has to a friend about the Thieves - thinking as such. But still. He readied himself for the inevitable annoyance, the flare of anger, he thought he would feel when Akechia started talking shit. It never hit him. Instead, he was thrown for a loop when Akechi claimed, "No, I do not blame the Phantom Thieves for Okumura's death."
As Akechi started to explain his reasoning, Mishima began to run through possible scenarios, possible explanations, for Akechi's sudden change in opinion of the Thieves. A mental breakdown was an option, but unlikely, since he wasn't exhibiting any symptoms except his slightly odd behaviour. An outside source playing puppet master? A genuine change of opinion? Or was it something more sinister? Was he hoping to manipulate the Phantom Thieves? Because that likely wouldn't work. They were all too smart to fall for such an obvious ploy. Well, except for Sakamoto, but still. The point stood. It-
"Food's done," Kurusu announced, plating the food in question up and carrying it over to one of the booths. It was more than enough to distract Mishima, who stood to follow without a word. He did his best to shove his considerations about Alechi out of his mind, so he could focus on Kurusu and avoid annoying him, as he sat down, facing towards the door to the coffee shop. But he found he didn't need to, when Kurusu caught a glimpse of the TV and sighed, grumbling, "I don't trust Akechi."
"Understandable," Mishima replied, holding his tongue. He had so much more he wanted to say, he wanted to explain his theories as to why Alechi was being so weird, but he couldn't. He knew it would just bother Kurusu. So he distracted himself by murmuring a quiet thanks and taking his first bite of the curry. Flavours burst on his tongue, sweet and spicy and absolutely delicious . It was enough to make him moan, just about dying because he hadn't eaten anything so good in a while, not that he realised he'd even made the noise (Kurusu realised. He blushed at the sound, hiding his pink cheeks by ducking his head and taking his own bite of food). Mishima hadn't had anything so good in a while. His aunt was a decent enough cook, but his parents had been in town for over a month (the longest they had been since before the whole Kamoshida ordeal, but they'd only been there for work), so he hadn't been able to eat at her place. Nor had he been able to cook properly for himself, since his parents always hated it when he wasted food on himself. So he just about died of joy at the flavour of the curry, finishing his bite before exclaiming, "This is incredible Kurusu!
The praise made Kurusu, who had looked up from his food, grin, a small blush dusting his cheeks. The pretty pink almost threw Mishima off, but he made sure to keep himself in line. He knew he couldn't risk outwardly reacting to Kurusu being especially cute. Not when it would make Kurusu uncomfortable. So, Mishima remained silent as Kurusu quietly thanked him, and as they both continued to eat. That silence lingered throughout the meal, right up until they were finished and Mishima decided to check the time. He paused at the number his phone showed, blinking in surprise for a long moment before internally cursing. He had to get going, as he told Kurusu by explaining, "I'm so sorry, but I've got to get going! I'll miss the train if I don't leave! I'm so sorry!"
As Mishima hurried to his feet, he continued to apologise, almost completely missing the smile on Kurusu's face. It was soft, fond even, which didn't make sense, but Mishima didn't have time to question it. He didn't get the chance to, either, since Kurusu stood too. For a second, it looked like he was going to reach out, to touch Mishima, but he pulled his hand away at the last moment, instead tucking his hands into his pockets and saying, "It's okay. Text me when you get home?"
"Will do! Sorry, again, Kurusu. See you at school!" Mishima replied, unthinkingly squeezing Kurusu's shoulder on his way out of the door. He didn't even realise he had done it. Not when he caught his train, or got home. Not when he texted Kurusu to say he had made it back safely, or as he drifted off to sleep that night.
Kurusu knew though. He felt that quick squeeze like a brand. And he wanted more .