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Summary
“Don’t ignore me. I’m talking to you.” There’s a hand on Mahito’s chin — or, more accurately, tucked under his chin. A thumb rests on one of Mahito’s pulse points, an index finger on the other. “I’ve been gone for hours, Mahito. Have you eaten anything today?”
His name. Like he’s been freed from a spell, Mahito finally turns to look at Kento, and just as he predicted, a tear falls from his eye as he does so. Except, it doesn’t streak down his cheek like he’d hoped — rather, it almost seems to jump to the middle of his cheek, where it then slowly trickles down to his chin. It pools in the skin of Kento’s hand, now stretched taut across his neck, and Kento’s hand twitches, but he doesn’t move.
“I didn’t eat.” Mahito licks his lips and swallows. Kento’s grip on his neck tightens, then, so that his Adam’s apple can’t move as freely as it’d like to. “You didn’t leave me anything to eat, so I didn’t eat.”
Kento's late, so Mahito plays a game while he waits.
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