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That old man couldn’t help but glare at them and clench a fist under the table. He shouldn’t be, but jealousy was toxic and it was slowly poisoning him.
His precious lover had insisted on being accompanied by him to that small café he had discovered a short time ago. Haise’s bright smile when he accepted was worth all the tedious paperwork he was postponing for the occasion. However, he wasn’t sure if it was worth this.
A beautiful waitress had received them (The man behind the counter seems familiar…) and her face lightened up at the sight of his boyfriend. He couldn’t blame her though. They were led inside to a small table for two and as soon as they sat, she placed a hand over his shoulder and Arima was sure a small frown has begun to appear on his forehead by now.
Maybe what bothered him was that Haise acted as if nothing had happened, as if he didn’t notice Arima’s discomfort.
His boyfriend asked the usual (all black coffee) and Arima does too, (his usual Café au lait). The waitress wrote down each order, left with a smile directed to his lover and… Was that a frown she directed at him?
No displays of affection were shown never, and so they only talked about trivial things (‘How was your day?’,’Is work too heavy right now?’, ‘We haven’t hanged out in a while’, ‘I missed you.’) They have both agreed to keep this as private as possible and they had been successful at fulfilling this agreement.
It was okay. They would always compensate the lack of physical touch as soon as they reached home that night and it was so worth it.
Arima excused himself to the bathroom to wash his hands. The trip was short but as soon as he had returned, the coffees were already on their tables, accompanied by a beautiful blue-haired waitress, talking animatedly with Haise. His Haise.
How long has he been repeating himself the same thing, only to repeat himself there was nothing to worry about? Haise was his. He has demonstrated so during most of their sleepless nights, covered in sweat and with a blush tinted on his cheeks. He has said so alongside his own name in a moan of pure pleasure. How much did Arima love being the one bringing the boy to that state…
He walked firmly to the table and sat down, pretending to not notice the waitress, laughing stupidly as something Haise had said. They didn’t seem to care either.
Arima was angry and the hot coffee that burned his tongue wasn’t even his main concern for now. That waitress had stood up and…
She kissed his cheek. Why are you kissing his cheek? Why are you letting her, Haise?
That old man couldn’t help but glare at them and clench a fist under the table. He shouldn’t be, but jealousy was toxic and it was slowly poisoning him.
The boy looked at him and smiled. He apologized for the lack of attention he had been giving him and explained he had befriended the waitress during all his visits to the café.
"Let me compensate you, Arima-san." Haise said after his short explanation. He leaned his head against his hand and turned his face into a rather suggestive look. "Say, can I stay at your house tonight?"
And the man couldn’t turn down this offer. He might need some reassurance after the events of this day.
Jealousy was poison and Haise was the antidote.