averie🍉

—HC Nanami Kento Nanami never shares his food. His plate is strictly off-limits to everyone. Yet with you, the rule simply doesn't exist. Take Thursday mornings, for instance. They have naturally morphed into a shared ritual. It usually goes the same way, you accompany him to the bakery just off the main road, lingering by the counter while he waits for his prized artisanal sourdough special. You almost always pick up a pastry of your own to go with your coffee. Today, however, your hands hold nothing but a single warm paper cup. Finding a quiet bench just off the pedestrian path, you sit side-by-side as the early sun filters through the leaves. He unwraps the brown paper. Then without a second thought, he picks up the softer, slightly larger half of the pre-sliced sandwich & holds it out toward you. You stare at the fresh cross-section of warm bread & melted cheese, blinking in surprise. "Kento, no—that's your Thursday special," you protest, leaning back slightly. "You waited in line for that. Besides, I'm just not that hungry this morning. I have two back-to-back presentations before noon, and my stomach is already doing flips thinking about them." Nanami doesn't retract his hand. He holds the slice steady, his tired eyes losing their edge as he looks at you over the rim of his glasses. "Which is precisely why you cannot survive until lunch on black coffee alone," he says smoothly, his low voice cuts through the distant rush of morning traffic. "I noticed you didn't pick up your usual today. Running on an empty stomach will only give you a headache by ten." "I could've ordered something small if I really wanted to—" "I bought it with the express intention of sharing it with you," Nanami interrupts softly, his tone leaving no room for further argument. He nudges the paper wrapping closer until you finally reach out and take it. "Go on. Eat the center first—it's the softest." Hesitantly, you take a small bite. The crust gives a crisp crunch before giving way to the rich, savory filling, leaving a tiny smudge of butter at the corner of your lip. "Mhm... well, now, I can see why you like this one so much." Nanami gives a quiet, self-satisfied hum, a faint hint of a smile touching the corner of his mouth. "I told you it was worth the wait." "Okay, fine. Point taken," you admit, swallowing the rest of your bite with a soft sigh. "You win. My morning is officially salvageable." Nanami sets his own half down for a brief second, shifting closer on the narrow bench until his shoulder presses warm against yours. Without a word, he reaches up—his thumb gently swiping the stray smudge away from your skin. His touch lingers, far too deliberate before he pulls back. "Besides," he murmurs, his gaze dipping briefly to your mouth before rising back to meet your eyes, "you're an exception to the rule. If you actually manage to finish that half, I can always walk back and order you another."