Suga slowly blinked awake, groaning as his eyes adjusted to the brighter darkness of his room. He felt remarkably well-rested, though he definitely had not caught up on all the sleep he’d missed out on in the past few years, but it was a good start. His body was stiff and awkward as he sat up and stretched.

His memory came rushing back and he jolted to his feet, blinking wildly. The girl—she had come and basically confronted him and—was she still here? He grabbed his phone and checked the time.

Blinked.

Checked it again.

He’d slept for an entire day!?

She’d definitely gone home.

He looked around—his floor was devoid of all his dirty clothes. Had she seriously done his laundry? Jesus, he was so confused.

Huffing loudly, he opened the door and clopped downstairs to the kitchen, rubbing his growling stomach and wondering if she’d actually made him food. Last he checked, there hadn’t been much left in the refrigerator or the cupboards to make a meal. However, the second he entered the dining room, he stopped dead.

Here.

She was still here.

Why the was she still here?

She was slumped over the table, face buried into her folded arms, shoulders rising and falling with her slow breathing. She had obviously stayed the night and slept at the dinner table for god-knows-what reason, instead of the perfectly usable bed upstairs or even the couches in the living room.

Why?

He didn’t know what to think of this timid, caring, confusing, weird, interesting girl anymore.

Shaking his head, he silently made his way to the kitchen, which looked infinitely cleaner than he’d last seen it. He first looked through the cupboards, startled to find bags of snacks in them. He wondered how much it all cost. Turning suspiciously to the refrigerator, he yanked it open and gawked in awe at the sight of dishes upon dishes of homemade food.

“Jesus ing Christ,” he breathed reverently. Thank god the girl was asleep; he would’ve been mortified for life if she’d witnessed his momentary slip in character. Picking out the first few plates and bowls he could get his hands on, he immediately began heating them up in the old microwave, so giddy and starving that he almost started bouncing on his heels.

The microwave beeped as it hit zero and he heard a noise from the dining room.

“Oops,” he muttered, his eyes shooting in her direction.

She appeared after several moments, visibly disoriented and half-asleep. Her hair was mussed up and falling out of its ponytail and she had imprints of her sleeves’ wrinkles on her face. She looked just short of adorable and he blamed his newly refreshed brain for thinking such a blasphemous thought.

“Oh, hello,” she yawned. “Um, sorry about the food. I wanted—you to eat it right—after I made it but”—big yawn here—“you were sleeping so soundly and I-I didn’t wanna wake you.”

He grunted.

“Oh, and sorry about, you know, staying over. And using your kitchen and laundry room without your permission. And—yeah. I hope it’s…okay.” Her voice was barely audible by the end of her spiel, her eyes cast down like she was expecting him to blow up at her.

He rolled his eyes. There was homemade food in front of him for the first time in forever; that obviously took precedence over yelling at her. Plus, she had made said food for him. He supposed he was kind of grateful, or something.

“What about your parents?” he asked gruffly, still heating up more food.

Her eyes flew to him, shocked that he was being so agreeable. “Oh! Uh, I, well, I kinda told them I was at my, um, other friend’s house and, well, yeah. Oh right!” Her face brightened as she recalled the original reason she had come to his house. “I told my parents about, um, you know, that night when you, you know, saved me, and they, um, they wanted me to ask you to…dinner?”

He smirked as her voice squeaked. Good to know she was still scared of him. “Uh, no.”

She wilted. “Yeah, I thought so.” There was a beat of awkward silence. “Um, did you sleep okay?”

“Look, if you’re done with whatever the you’re here for, then go home,” he demanded abruptly, turning to face her.

She jumped. “R-right, yes, of course. I’m—I’m leaving. Sorry for bothering you!” She made to leave but then stopped and slowly faced him again. “Um, Su-su-su-su—ga,” she said meekly, “do you—I mean, are there a lot of, um, like, you know, bad guys on the streets at this time? It’s, well, it’s sort of late. Ish.”

He exhaled in exasperation and she winced. “Jesus, I don’t know, where the do you think you are right now? This isn’t exactly the rich part of town.”

“O-oh, r-right, I—right. Okay. I’m—yes. Goodbye.” She turned and hurried to the front door.

He heard it creak open and her voice calling out, “Please lock your front door!” before it slammed shut.

He stared down at all the delicious food beckoning him and swore under his breath as he recalled the last time she’d been walking by herself at night. It wasn’t quite as late but like he’d said, he lived in a rather seedy neighborhood.

“Goddammit!” He ran to his room, grabbed his keys, and stomped to the door, flinging it open and following her. She hadn’t gotten far and she spun in surprise when she heard his door bang shut.

“U-um, what—” she began but he cut her off, walking quickly in front of her.

“Hurry up, the food’s gonna get cold,” he grumbled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

She stared after him, her jaw open, for a moment before jerking back to herself and rushing after him, hiding her tiny smile behind her hand.

They walked in silence because both were too busy thinking to even attempt conversation. She wondered if she had really managed to get under his skin and if she really had a chance to help heal him. He wondered why he was walking her home and why she was bothering with him in the first place.

Neither found answers to their questions.

It took a while but they finally reached the station she usually got off at. She took the lead and guided him to her neighborhood, where he hesitated, surveying the big, fancy houses before shrugging and following her to her house. He stood at the end of the driveway as she walked to her front door.

He watched her, raising his eyebrows when she suddenly turned and ran back to him, biting her lip and blushing.

“Um…thank you…for walking me home.” She met his eyes briefly, smiled, and ran for the door.

His eyes followed her as she clumsily dropped her keys, a half-smile growing on his face. “Thanks for the food,” he said grudgingly before walking away.

© Copyright 2015 by skyblaze208