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“This is a stupid idea, Komori!” He hisses into his phone, staring up at the restaurant. It’s stupidly and sickly clearly a romantic spot. Peering through the windows from the outside, it appears fancy with lace table covers and a vase of roses on every table, with a lot of them filled with lovestruck couples, some older and some so clearly young, they’re wearing a tux to the dinner. Ew.
“Aw, c’mon, it’s not! You guys have a lot in common, including knowing me!” Komori laughs into his ear. He doesn’t have to look to know he’s wearing a shit-eating grin on the other side, he hears the telltale sounds of muted garbled screaming and blasting sound effects to know he’s playing a first-shooter while Suna is trying to yell at him for this horrid idea. Bastard. “You don’t meet anyone new! Like ever. You’re so bad with romance, Suna, you might as well try a blind date. It won’t be bad. Promise.”
“How do I know you haven’t set me up with a murderer, so you can take my spot at the agency?”
Komori snorts. “Considering I outrank you, that’d be stupid, Rin. Trust me, it’ll be fine!”
It does not feel fine. His chest is constricting at the very thought of stepping inside this restaurant. It’s a reservation too, which makes it so much worse. He’s certainly not dressed the part for the stupidly intimate place like this where memories are surely made.
“If you don’t like him or the date, you can just not talk to him again.” Komori continues, before he gets a chance to interject. “That’s fine with me! But think about the what ifs!”
“Like being murdered?”
“The positive what ifs!”
“I doubt there’s any in this scenario.”
“Stop being a wuss and go on your date,” Komori huffs. “Or I’ll have to be forced to tell chat tomorrow how horrid you are with romance.”
Like he needed more things to be made fun of. It’s already bad enough Komori beats him at every game they play on stream.
“Fine, whatever, but if I hate this guy, you’re hearing all my complaints.”
“Happily.”
“Yeah, you would, you gossip-obsessed freak.”
“Can’t I like a little drama?”
“No,” He huffs, ending the call and shoving his phone into his jacket pocket. He takes a deep breath in, trying to calm his overwhelming nerves that beg him to run away, to say he went on the date and horrible, and lie, but he can’t do that. Knowing Komori’s taste in acquaintances, the bastard he’s supposed to meet would snitch, so he’s left in an horrid situation.
Going on a date with a stranger he knows very little about. Around his age, loves to cook, is gay, and that’s about all he gave him.
He practically drags himself inside, speaking at the lady at the front, only to be greeted with the largest fake smile he’s ever seen. Amazing how she can do that. He’s sat at one of those lacy tables, the roses mocking him, and a menu in hand.
Now, all he has to do is wait for this bastard to show, if he does that is. Blind dates are like that, fickle and annoying, which is why Suna has never bothered with it. He’s not actively searching but Komori has this obsession with proving he’s the world’s greatest matchmaker after he got his cousin some sort of wonderful date.
“Rinatoru, right?” A voice calls to him, deeper than his own, and he feels his fear spike inside him. This is it.
“And you’re—” He places the menu down, preparing himself for a terrible horror only to twist around and catch the sight of the man. Dressed in dark colors that horribly compliment both his build and the tan color in his skin. His expression is soft, curious, and eyes like whiskey he could drown in.
This is bad.
“You’re—Osamu, right?” He manages to choke out, to try and not make it so obvious he’s staring at the man because what the fuck?
The man, Osamu it seems indeed, smiles softly back at him. He nods, taking a seat next to him, not across from him, which he does not expect. He’s proud of himself for not making any noise because holy shit, this man is attractive and looks soft as can be, and goddamnit, Komori knows he has a type.
“Komori, um, mentioned a lot about you.” Osamu spoke, he almost sounded as shy as Suna felt. Damn, damn. “He picked—quite the place.”
He watches as Osamu looks around, a strange twist to his face.
He chuckles at that. “I know right? This is the kind of places for proposals and anniversary, not blind dates.”
“I think he’s just taking I’m cupid thing a little too seriously now,” Osamu glances back him, still smiling. “Thinks he’s such an matchmaker after hooking Sakusa with my brother.”
“Oh, wow, your brother?”
“Yeah, small world, I guess.” He shrugs. “But enough about me and my brother, I’d really rather hear about you, from y’know, you.”
Right, okay, this is going horribly because his eyes haven’t even looked towards the menu or bothered to wave down their waiter, but instead are focused solely on Suna, like his next words will be the holy gospel.
“Not much to tell really. I work with Komori, have a cat, don’t go out much.” He shrugs, suddenly feeling very embarrassed at how lame he really is. Here is a man who loves to cook and looks like he could’ve been carved out of marble and Suna’s dressed in an old jacket with sewn patches of past interests and he realizes how much a loser he must to be.
Fuck him, man.
“I’m sure there’s more than that,” The man chuckles.
He shakes his head really. “I work on the internet. I have a cat named Salmon, that I take on walks to get some amount of sun in me, but I’m pretty—”
“You named your cat salmon?”
“Well—well, she’s an orange cat! It made sense at the time, alright?”
“Wait, wait, you walk her, what do you mean?”
“With a harness? I trained her so I could go on walks.” Suna blinks. “She’s, um, a rescue if you were curious.”
Osamu stares at him like he grew a second head.
“You can walk cats?”
“You—you didn’t know that?”
“No, gods, you mean I could’ve been walking Prawn this entire time instead of her chewing my cables?”
“Hold on a moment,” Suna huffs, rolling his eyes. “You judge me for naming my cat Salmon but apparently you have one as well and named it, Prawn?”
“Well, Prawn is objectively a better name than Salmon. It’s unique!”
“It is not. You have no room for judging my naming capabilities.”
Osamu grins, “So I can judge you elsewhere?”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve been eyeing that undertale patch for a bit now.” Osamu laughs as his face twists. “Not much to tell because everything about you is on your jacket. You like a lot of videogames, huh?”
“There’s nothing wrong with videogames.”
“It’s a fun hobby,” Osamu snorts, “But you’ve got quite some on there.”
“Oh, shut up,” He huffs, his face burning. “Hurry up and order something before our waiter strangles us.”
Komori is grinning when he sees him next. His eyes are practically shining in glee and Suna knows he’s trapped with him for the next five hours for their collab stream. Truly, he should’ve cancelled, because now he has to deal with this.
“Sooo, how’d it go?”
He does his best to not give it away because frankly, it’s really embarrassing that all it took was dark looks and witty banter to get him chatting what felt like hours, until the restaurant was closing. Their waiter was not happy with them.
He doesn’t even remember what they ordered, what it tasted like. They got some wine, fancy stuff for a reasonable price, but despite it digging a spot in his wallet, he doesn’t remember any of the meal.
On the other hand, he can’t get that gorgeous smile off his mind. The guy was freaking charming, dangerously so. Every word he spoke was a liquor Suna couldn’t say no to. How could you pass it up?
“Well, I’m alive.”
“Oh, come on,” Komori tilts his head. “You know you can’t keep secrets from me. Don’t you?”
He chooses to ignore Komori, for as long as humanly possible, until it’s time for their stream to go live. Komori hates being late, their chat would never let them forget it if they were, and Komori would never talk about personal stuff when live. It’s a decent plan, he thinks, as he shrugs off his coat, folding it in his arms.
“I mean, after all, I heard you had quite a nice time.” Komori grinned. “A little fox told me.”
“What could you possibly—” His sentence cuts off and everything short-circuts in his brain. It’s like his body is on fire. “You talked to him, didn’t you!”
“Of course I did, he’s my friend, Suna!” Komori just beams. Suna feels like a deer caught in headlights, unsure what to do, how to move, how to escape, because Komori has that look on his face like he’s never going to let Suna forget this. “He said you were quite interesting and fun! Imagine you, fun!”
“Oh, haha, very funny, Komori.”
“Oh, don’t be a tough crowd!” Komori rolled his eyes. “After all, I do know you were curious. You practically perked up when I mentioned him!”
“Shut it,” He shakes his head and tries to not give the man any more ammunation than he already has.
“I make a great matchmaker, say it!”
“It was one date.” Suna hisses. “Doesn’t mean they’ll be another, don’t get overconfident now.”
“But you want another date, don’t you?”
“Oh, for the love of—” He groans. Right, so he isn’t escaping this situation. He’s cornered and there’s no route he can run to. “It was great, okay. His stupid face, he kept giving commentary on the food, he was witty and actually knew all my nerdy references despite making fun of them. Okay?”
Komori just laughed, a real bright and high one.
“If you think his face is great, wait until you try his food.”
“The hell does that mean?” Suna shakes his head. “Enough with your—your everything. We have a stream and I plan to kick your ass.”
“Good luck, I’m not going easy on you just ‘cause you’re lovestruck!”
“I am not—ough, whatever, shut up!”
He’s so incredibly close to winning against Komori after that little joke he made that he can’t stop spinning around in his head. He is not lovestruck. It’s not his fault the guy can keep up with Suna and is easy on the eyes. That’s not on him, damnit!
“Well, look at Komo-chan,” He grins, his gaze flickering over towards Komori’s twisted up face. “I might just finally beat you! You’re out of spells and potions. You should’v—”
His phone starts ringing, loud and blaring.
“Don’t you have to get that, Su-chan?” Komori beams back at him, a horrible glint in his eyes. He doesn’t trust it.
He should ignore the phone call. If it’s important, they’ll call back. If it’s important, they wouldn’t call while he’s streaming for fuck’s sake—
Komori leans over, practically laying his head on his shoulders, and whispers, so the mics don’t pick it up, “That’s Osamu’s number, by the way.”
His gaze glances down at his phone and everything is too much. His skin is too hot, his heart beats like a wardrum inside his rib cage, and his fingers are sweaty against the controller. It’s like he can’t decide, just as he looks back up at his screen, blam! A KO!
“Goddamnit.” He mutes himself and snatches up the phone.
He answers it, presses it against his ear, and he isn’t sure what he expects to happen next.
“Sorry for bothering you, but I’m not a big texter person myself,” is the first thing Osamu says. It’s bizarre, but it makes him laugh from the sheer ludiciousy of it.
“Sure, whatever man, help yourself.” He can’t stop himself from grinning, not even when Komori glances over back at him, while he’s entertaining the stream. “I get it, me too, y’know?”
“Is that so?”
His voice is unfairly gorgeous as well, by the way. His breath stutters each time it drops and he feels like a teenager, panicking because a cute boy waved at him. It’s pathetic, really, he knows.
“I had, um, a great time.” Osamu says and it’s like his heart has stopped.
Komori is making funny faces at him, complaining about him throwing some tantrum about losing as his cover story. He’s sure Komori enjoys being able to bully him with that excuse when he comes back.
“Oh, yeah, me—me too. Uh, honestly been a while since I met someone like you.” Okay, that’s pitiful, Suna, get it together. “I mean, just like, on my level? Not—not to say—”
“Don’t worry,” Osamu smoothes over. “I felt that way too. It was nice to just hang out with someone who understood a lot things, it’s kind of why I’m calling.”
“Oh—oh?”
“How do you feel about picnics?”
“Oh, uh, fine?”
“So,” He could almost see Osamu’s grin. “You wouldn’t mind that for a second date then?”
Holy shit
Onigiri Miya, is the first thing that catches his eyes. The white outline of the letters, in an almost polished and professional font, line the side of the shirt. It stands out against the black farbic of the shirt clinging to Osamu as he twists around, bringing out food, actual homemade food wrapped in plastic for safety of course, but he sees how the steam has fogged up the plastic.
It’s almost pathetic how warm it feels to receive food, made by someone else’s, so freely like this. Like it was his greatest joy to share it with him.
“I know viewing the cherry blossoms is pretty basic,” Osamu chuckles, placing a plate of steaming onigiri that look so damned delicious, his mouth starts watering.
“Well, not for me,” Suna hums, staring at the damned trees themselves. He’s never had a picnic like this before. Never gone out with a guy to view the cherry blossoms that’s for sure. They’re so fickle, they wilt so fast before he can ever enjoy them. “I’ve actually never been.”
“Not even with your folks?”
“Nah, we’re not that kind of family.”
Osamu just looks at him for a second before smiling bright, opening up the plastic wrapping around the plate. He hands one of the jaw-dropping onigiris to Suna, who greedily and gladly takes it.
“Well, my family is. We do all the stuff—the viewings, the festivals, visiting any special spot in town, y’know like zoos and museums?”
“Oh?” He can’t resist any longer. He takes a bite of the onigiri. The inside flavor is tuna mayo, he can tell, amidst all the hot steamed fluffy rice overloading his systems. It’s hot, delicious, and he’s seriously never known how great food could be before Osamu. It’s like seeing colors for the first time.
“You could…you could join us, if you’d like?” Osamu offers. “We still do it, mum likes to drag me and my brother back all the time for it.”
“Oh, yeah, you said he works on the internet like you too?”
Osamu nods, chuckling. “He’s actually a streamer, if you can believe that.”
“What? Really?” He tries to fake his awe, to almost hype the idea of streamers up but it’s so mundane in his mind, it seems a bit of ridiculous.
“Yeah, he’s a little popular I suppose. He doesn’t show his face, usually hides behind this furry mask if he’s in places where he has to.”
“That—that sounds miserable.”
“I know right, he sweats like a hog in that thing.” Osamu shakes his head, laughing. “But enough about my brother. How have you’ve been?”
Just like that, in a matter of moments and few words exchanged, Osamu’s entire person is focused on him. It’s all too much, he feels hot underneath the light.
God, he wants to kiss him.
It’s not like every stream he has is with Komori, just a lot of them. Collaboration is a great way to grow your audience, his agency says. Collaborating with other talent within your own lore heightens the viewers experience, his manager reminds him. Sometimes, though, he just needs his own stream, where he’s in control of the game, the chat, the atmosphere, everything. It’s freeing, like a brisk Friday night, he can go wherever he feels.
The problem right now is that nothing is speaking to him particularly. He browses through his own games, first, trying to decide which one he was in the mood for, or which one would be good for a stream. Not all games are meant to be streamed.
That bores him, quickly. Companies lately aren’t producing any good hitters, or just, good stories in general. The indie scene is where you find secret masterpieces, but he’s bored by everything that’s downloaded on this PC. Maybe he could do a different type of stream?
Gaming doesn’t have to be the only thing a Vtuber like himself does. It can be anything! He’s seen plenty of other talent on the site take things that “normal” streamers do and use it in their own content. Maybe he should try that, he convinces himself, as he loads up the site.
He squints at the site. Purple is such a bold color.
Some of his friends are already streaming. The hour is good for audiences, but he finds himself pulled towards the main page. It’s always interesting to see what the site pushes, when it hardly does anything to help streamers.
Oh! Well, that’s something.
One of the streams being pushed is a…cooking stream? Okay, not that strange. Everyone’s got to learn somehow, somewhere. He’s just never thought it would be interesting in a streaming format.
His mouse hovers over the thumbnail, before it starts playing the actual live content, though without the sound. The man seems to be deliberately not showing his face. As he ducks around his kitchen, Suna can take stock of the dark mask covering his mouth and nose, and the matching hat pulled down towards his eyes.
The thing that really catches his eyes is the dark shirt, the one branded with a white logo. Onigiri Miya. The rest of the shirt is blank, but it fits him well enough he supposes. He never got why people would make such bland merch, if you’re going to do it, you might as well go well out, right?
Wait, wait, Osamu was wearing a shirt just like that on their date! The picnic one! Is he a fan then?
If he’s a fan—a fan of a cooking streamer, could he possibly know him? Or did he even cross over to his side of the streaming site.
It’s not like everyone respected the nature of VTubing, despite the almost insane amount of viewers and money they bring in for any site they’re on. He knew, even with the rising acceptance and enjoyment of them, it didn’t mean everyone saw them as a ‘real’ form of streaming, or even if they did, they often viewed it with a lesser sense.
Did Osamu think that?
What was he going to do if he did?
Sometimes, he really disliked how much he likes Osamu. Stupidly handsome face, stupid sweet eyes, stupid soft voice that likes to embarrass him by the way he holds his chopsticks, stupid stupid man that Suna was increasingly becoming stupid himself for. What was a man to do?
Maybe he could change his mind? He works for an esports company, he could show him his schedule and everything, but no—no, he wouldn’t break his pride just ‘cause a guy he liked didn’t approve his career. No matter how much liked him.
He wouldn’t fold just because—because maybe Osamu’s smile would fall when he found his real career.
It would—it would hurt, for sure. He hasn’t really connected like this before, no one’s been this welcoming or inviting to him. He practically asks for him to consume Osamu’s space, to take for seconds, and Suna, greedily so, does it without shame.
His mind wanders to this weekend, practically book on the calender on his phone and written on his shitty, doesn’t even stand up half the time, desk one, circled in red so he wouldn’t forget it. Their fourth date. God, when will he stop counting them? When does the dust settle on this sort of thing?
When does he stop getting giddy at every thought of seeing him? When does the dread of him finding out what he really does finally stop? He can’t take much more of this.
How do you even have that conversation?
He takes a deep breath, sitting up his chair, and stares straight at the wall. He musters up all the courage he has for today—squaring his shoulders, tightening his hands, and releasing that breath.
“Hey, I really like you,” He tries to keep his breaths steady but even practicing this feels like ripping his own heart out. “But I’m also secretly an E-Sports Vtuber whose lore is that I’m a fox-hybrid spirit because our dumb company decided that would be our theme and story. Anyways, can I kiss you now?”
Right.
Okay.
That sounded stupid as fuck.
Oh my god, as if he didn’t already come off as the most pathetic man in all of Osaka?
He buried his face in his hands, squeezing at the flesh of his cheeks, groaning into the gaps between his fingers.
This was all just so complicated!
Brunch.
How the hell do you dress for a brunch date of all things?
Looking in the mirror, he feels a bit like a fool. It’s too much and it’s not enough except he doesn’t know the line. Where is it? It’s not Suna ever was good at dressing himself. He’s always been told he has a shit taste for clothes and considering he looks like a pair of mismatched poorly colored puzzle pieces shoved together, he can’t deny that, no matter how hard he tries.
And he’s certainly trying, he doesn’t to look like a complete mess to Osamu but it’s getting increasingly harder.
There’s a ring at the door, a buzzing sound that means Osamu’s outside waiting for him to open the door. Great, great.
He walks to the door and tries to calm down. He takes a deep breath in, trying to soothe all those irritated nerves of his, and it hardly works. He can’t leave him waiting out there forever, though, so he grabs the door, cold in his hand, twisting it.
And—oh!
“They’re peonies.”
Pink, ruffly flowers, delicately snipped and wrapped in a paper bouquet are the first things his eyes catch. They’re, well, lovely, first off, but Suna—Suna has never received flowers before.
Delicately, he takes them and tries not to squish the stems as he holds them in his hands, staring down at them like it was the greatest thing he’s ever received. He thinks it might be close.
He glances back up at Osamu, who is just smiling soft, like enamored with every move Suna does and it lights everything back on fire.
“Right, um, thank you?” He finds himself sputtering out. He has to say something!
Osamu is laughing, his favorite sound in the world, as he holds these precious flowers in his hands that he plans to cherish for as long as they’ll let him but Osamu is stepping in, he is leaning down, he is—
Oh wow.
He—he’s kissing him. Right here and now. In Suna’s cluttered flatter. With pink peonies in his arms. With the day’s brisk just outside the door. When Suna is dressed horribly and terribly.
Their first kiss.
“You know, you could look less shocked,” Osamu grins, completely full of it he’s sure, looking down at him like he’s the most amusing thing.
“I—” He stutters out. “I was ambushed! Excuse you.”
“What?” Osamu chuckles, sweet like honey. “Surprised I wanted to kiss you? Y’know, that isn’t as shocking as you think.”
What a ridiculous notion. Absolutely ridiculous. Of course it is!
He’s still trying to rack his brain around, to remember this moment forever, to not let pass him by—
“Your flat is something.”
“It’s a mess, don’t worry about it.” He shakes his head. “Weren’t we going to brunch anyways?”
“Well, we could have brunch here.”
“I don’t even think I have eggs in my fridge, ‘Samu.”
“Jesus, Suna, you got to take care of yourself better than that.”
“I—I do! I just. I was going to go grocery shopping after our date.”
“Oh?” Osamu perks up. “Want to do it together then?”
“Oh, um, I have work after? I was planning to do between our date and time for work.”
“Aw,” Osamu smirks. “Nothing I can tag along for?”
“I—”
Technically, he could.
“I don’t imagine sitting around while I—I stream with Komori would be much fun.”
Osamu’s face practically lights up.
“You stream?”
“Um, well, yes.”
“What the hell? You could’ve told me.” Osamu laughs. “I literally told you my brother was a streamer and everything.”
“Well—well, um, I’m a bit different than your brother, I think.” He looks down at the soft petals. “Do—do you know what Vtubing is?”
“Well, yeah? My brother does it. He wears that furry mask at conventions and junk to meet fans.”
“Wait. Really?”
“Yup. C’mon, what’s your handle?”
It’s embarrassing to be asked outright, to bear his soul like this, so he mutters it softly.
“Wait—” Osamu leans closer. “Seriously?”
“If—if you don’t—”
“I watched your streams all the time. Are you kidding me?” Osamu laughs, full and bright. “Of course Komori would set us up and not tell me.”
“You—you’re a fan?”
“I mean, yeah? Your streams are entertaining, man.” Osamu smiles. “Guess I should come clean then huh?”
“Wha—what do you mean?”
“I’m, uh, I do cooking streams.”
Immediately, it clicks.
“You’re Onigiri Miya.”
“I wasn’t really trying to hide it or anything. Never came up, I suppose. I mean my name is Osamu Miya, Rin.”
Suna pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I can’t believe this.”
“So, is that a no after all?” Osamu asks, leaning closer. Much too close.
He just—
“Fine, fine. But you better behave yourself!”
“I can be quiet when I need to be.”
“Yes but you love to argue with me and pick on me, you bastard.”
“You make it too easy.” Osamu shrugged with that gorgeous smile and Suna wanted to shove his head underwater.
He needed to put these flowers into water.
God, Komori would never let this down.
When the door opens up, Komori’s eyes don’t budge from where he’s setting up their station.
The desk is clean, free of cluttered, and OBS is on screen, along with the game they’re playing tonight, everything should be set for them to start steam once it’s time. As usual, Suna’s cutting it close. He glances over, their drinks are pulled out from the cooler, controllers are pulled in, and he can’t find anything else to do.
He simply monitors their offline chat with a wave of adrenaline begging to get out. The few minutes before a steam is always the time he feels the most anxiety and excitement in his life, mixing together like a dangerous brew.
When he hears the door open, footsteps along the woodwork, he doesn’t even look up at first. It’s routine.
“One of these days, Suna, you’re going to be late and I won’t stop chat from trying to murder you,” He laughs to himself, picking up Suna’s headphones, and handing them to him only to catch an unfamiliar sight.
“Oh well,” He grins, “What’s this?”
Suna’s face is burning bright, like a neon sign against his pale exterior, he never does get any sun. He’s dressed in his usual hoodie and old jeans, torn from age, but his hand preoccupied with anothers.
“It seems, yet again, I am right, Rin.”
“Oh shut your mouth,” Suna rolls his eyes, huffing. “I—he was curious about how it happens on the other side and we—”
“We have a date afterwards,” Osamu huffs, looking down at Suna with this horribly fond expression that has Komori grinning like he’s won the gold medal. He’s a great matchmaker and he knows it.
“Well then, the sooner you hop on stream, the sooner you can get back to making out.”
“I will strangle you.”
Komori pulls his headphones over his head, adjusting the microphone to his preferred height.
“You can’t beat me at videogames, at matchmaking, you definitely won’t win at that.”
Osamu snorts at that.
“Do not enable him!” Suna glares at him, before walking forward, taking a seat in his chair. He snatches up his headphones, placing them on. He reaches for the mouse, taking a deep breath. “Ready?”
He’s way ahead of him, starting his stream right underneath his nose.
“Beat you to it.” He watches as annoyance floods Suna’s face, as the brunette gapes at him.
“Jerk.”
He ignores him in favor for his chat.
“Hey everyone!” He waves to them. “You’ll never believe what Su-chan has been up to thanks to me!”