Now he wanted to tear his hair out. He groaned he slammed his plate down onto the table and whirled on him. Reaching out he snagged the front of Hakuba’s tee and half dragged him towards him. At a hair breath from their lips touching he choked.
He went wide eyed and felt his body shake. None to gentle he laughed back from the detective and smacked a hand over his mouth. He knew he was red. He was just surprised he wasn’t red all over. A series of jumbled garbled word escaped, not all of them Japanese. Stumbling back he fled upstairs to his bedroom and hid underneath the covers.
There was a moment of confusion, another of fear, and then a whole lot of breathless staring as the whirlwind that was Kuroba Kaito fled the room. The loud sound, the rough grabbing, the almost – what was that? Almost a kiss? And then to be left like that…
Hakuba stood still in the kitchen, only barely able to keep hold of the plate in his hands as he trembled. What was he supposed to make of that?! Hesitantly, he turned to look toward the stairs, biting his lip as he once again considered his options.
Before anything else, Hakuba set the food on the counter, less he let the plate slip from his fingers, and retrieved the pocket watch. Snap. Check time. Confirm with wrist watch. Snap closed. Caress the crest. Slip back in pocket.
He wished he was wearing his suit instead of these god-awful casual clothes. He had cigarettes in his suit. It would have been such a welcome relief at this point. Was it rejection that he felt? The ache in his chest suggested as such, and he felt sick from it. Really, he needed to leave, give Kaito some space. So much had happened in so little time and clearly there were dangerous emotions running high.
Quietly, he went up the stairs, following the path that he knew led to Kaito’s room. When he reached the door, he knocked, peeking in but not entering, posture submissive and apologetic.
“Kuroba-kun…” he said, biting his lower lip again. “I’m sorry. I know you’re likely exhausted. Shall I leave you to rest now…?”