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[protegge]

[the chorus of blondie's CALL ME, sung extremely poorly but with great enthusiasm]

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[protegge]

[He doesn't realize she's following his lead until he notices her startle at the soft, chewy inside. He doesn't say it, but the reason he realizes is because usually, talking around food makes her almost impossible to understand, so the fact that he understands must mean her mouth is less full than usual. They look at each other, an echo chamber of fondness, and he thinks about how much he aches with joy at being able to taste home one more time, but that it really isn't much in comparison to the ache he feels looking at her.]

[But then she explains, and he discovers that one more time, forever, he can learn to love her just that little bit more.]

[She leaves him awed, just like usual. Her cheeks are pink by the time she's done, but at least they match the darkness of his eyes, the heat of flush at the tips of his ears. No one has ever made him feel loved like this. No one has ever cared for him so deeply and earnestly that they'd work this hard for something so small.]

. . . Sayori.

[He lays his hand over hers between them. Presses his forehead against hers, too.]

Thank you. You're really good to me. I don't think you even know how good. So, you know, thanks — for always thinking of me.

[hxppythxughts]

[Like the ripple of a pebble falling into a pond, the nostalgic ache of love radiates from him until it makes land upon the shore of her soul, and it pulls up a soft, lopsided smile as he leans in once more to be closer to her. She closes the last small amount of space between them to steal the lingering dusting of powdered sugar off of his lips, quick and gentle, and then grins.]

You don't have to thank me for that, silly. That's how it is when someone's important to you, you know?

[That's why she adorned her hat the way she did when she first joined the Bureau, in the colors that reminded her of the Literature Club. That's why she always wears her necklaces, her bracelets, the omamori on her adventuring pouch and the yarn on her pinky. Why she writes with the fancy pens that are honestly way too fancy for her. They're all from her important friends, and she wants to think of all of them — every day, always.

Especially Mista, who's become more important to her than she ever could have imagined. Who's asserted himself into a part of her soul the same way that he asserted himself into the chair across from her on the first day that they met.

It's not something she goes out of her way to do. It's just how it is. She thinks of him, always.]

And you're really important to me. So I'm gonna keep thinking about you all the time.

...Especially since I can tell when you're super hungry and stuff, ehehe~