Mei POV
The only sound in the room was the soft scritch-scratching of lead on paper. The only breaks were the bits of small talk that surfaced occasionally, or when someone asked for help.
Since Hoshino wasn't studying, he was always the one who provided assistance.
After about an hour or two, I felt the need to use the washroom.
"Hey, Hoshino," I whispered, doing my best not to disturb the others. "Where's the washroom? And since I'm already there, I'll take the bowls and plates to the kitchen, too."
"Out the door and to the right for the kitchen, left for the washroom," he replied dismissively, not looking up from his phone.
Remi let out a loud sigh and set her pencil down on the table. "I don't expect you to sound like an angel, but shouldn't you bring the bowls out yourself? It's your restaurant."
"I would—but since Mei is already going to the washroom, it makes more sense for her to," he said with a shrug. "Also, she insisted, so I'm just taking her up on her offer."
Remi sucked in a breath, preparing to scream at him again. I didn't want to disrupt the others' concentration, so I cut in gently.
"Remi, it's fine. I did insist. I appreciate you standing up for me, though. Thank you, really."
Remi froze before grumbling under her breath. "...Fine."
I gave her a soft, reassuring smile before grabbing the empty bowls and stepping out of the room.
I didn't blame Remi for thinking Hoshino was a little cold—he was. It's just that from their perspective, he and I weren't that close—or not close enough that he'd go out of his way to do things like this for me. It wouldn't be out of character for him if it were someone like Luna, whom everyone knew he was actually close to.
As I progressed through the hallway, I heard the muffled clatter of plates up ahead. I followed it until I arrived at the door leading to the kitchen. It felt wrong to just go in, so I set the dishes down on a nearby counter and gave the door three soft knocks.
"Excuse me," I said, talking a little louder than usual. "It's Mei. I'm here to bring the dirty dishes."
The clatter immediately stopped, and a heavy silence swallowed the restaurant. In the next second, heavy footsteps approached the door, growing louder by the moment. I took a precautionary step back, and as if on cue, the door swung open.
Hoshino's Dad greeted me with a bright, childish smile as he wiped the sweat from his brow and gave me a polite bow. "Hello, Mei. What did you need?"
"It's nothing serious," I said, gesturing to the counter where I'd set the dishes. "I'm just here to bring the dishes for you."
I expected him to thank me and leave it there, but instead, he stared at the dishes with a deepening frown.
I couldn't help but stiffen as I watched him.
Did I… do something wrong?
I opened my mouth, ready to apologize, but before I could speak, Hoshino's Dad's head snapped toward me in a frenzy.
"Did my Son make you carry this here?!"
I blinked, struggling to comprehend what he was getting at as the words slipped out in a barely audible murmur.
"Yeah…?"
Hoshino's Dad grabbed his hair, as if he might tear it off his scalp and shook his head.
"What is wrong with this kid?! He shouldn't be making his friends do the dirty work—and a girl at that!"
I couldn't help but chuckle. I didn't even know why—or how—it happened. It just slipped out on its own, almost even naturally.
"It's okay, sir," I said, trying to calm him down. "I was going to the washroom anyway, so I offered. Besides, I wanted to do you a favour since you said we didn't have to pay for our meal."
Hoshino's Dad froze, looking at me with wide eyes. In the next moment, his posture straightened as he brushed his hands off and cleared his throat.
"Sorry about that. He just leaves me speechless sometimes. I honestly can't tell what he's thinking."
Once he composed himself, he put on the same bright smile from earlier. But this time—my body tensed under the sight of it.
"And please," he added. "You don't have to call me sir. Just call me… Uncle. Uncle Su."
Just hearing the word 'Uncle' was enough to make me sick, much less having to use it to address someone else. Except this time—the sickness didn't come. Or if it did, I didn't—no, couldn't notice. All I could think about was...
Why—no. How… can he make that face?
I've only ever seen that look once—when Hoshino was staring at his little sister during sports day. While it was a little different, the way Uncle Su looked at me—no, at everyone, carried that same… feeling.
I blinked, and in that split second, Uncle's eyes softened, but his smile still held.
"Hey... are you okay?" he asked, his tone lacking the usual volume it always did.
Why... is he asking that?
That was when I felt it—the heat welling in my eyes and threatening to streak my cheeks.
I brought a hand to my eyes, then drew it away. The back of it was wet, glistening in the light.
Am I… crying?
My body clenched on instinct, trying to stop the tears. It was always so easy to stop crying in front of Father when I was a child—but this time, as a teenager, no matter how hard I strained, they wouldn't disappear.
No… I can't let this happen.
I can't let him see me like this!
I can't let the people in the store—or my classmates in the room—see me like this!
My hand twitched, and before I realized it, I was grabbing my wrist. The pain flared in my arm, running through my blood and searing my tear ducts shut.
I let out a quiet breath before returning his smile.
"Sorry about that," I said as I wiped the rest of the tears away. "The way you looked at me right now just reminded me of the way my late grandfather did."
Of course, that was a lie. I hadn't seen either of my grandparents in years, but I knew that at the very least, they were still alive and well.
But he didn't need to know that.
For a split second, the corners of his smile froze before softening once more.
"Is that so? I'm sorry to hear that." Uncle rummaged through his pocket before pulling out a piece of guava candy. "Here. I know it isn't much, but maybe it'll help you feel better."
"Thank you," I said, politely taking the candy and popping it in my mouth.
Uncle glanced at the clock on the wall. "Well, it's almost time for me to take a quick snack break."
He looked back at me, his eyes settling on mine, before crossing his arms in disapproval.
"Yeah—this won't do."
I tilted my head, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Well—your eyes are really red. I know you probably don't want your friends to ask questions, so why don't we chat for a little bit until you get better?" A wide grin crept up his face. "I'd also love to know how my Son is doing in school! So it sounds like a win-win to me!"
He gestured to a nearby counter—the same one Hoshino's cousin had been sitting at not too long ago.
"Sure! I'd be more than happy to." I said cheerfully.
"Okay, then get yourself seated. I'm going to grab myself a quick meal before I join you."
Uncle turned around and headed back into the kitchen. Just as I was about to head for the counter, I noticed that he had forgotten to take the dirty dishes along with him. I debated about knocking to let him know, but it was his break, so he wasn't going to deal with them right now anyway.
It's fine. I'll make sure to remind him when his break ends.
With that, I headed toward the counter and took a seat—the same seat Hoshino had taken when he talked with his cousin.
Maybe it was imagining things, but I swore I could still feel his lingering warmth in it. And from it, my body relaxed, and the pain that had been throbbing in my wrist vanished.
I can't wait to talk to you later…
Dad POV
I was in the middle of cutting my vegetables into bite-sized pieces, but my hands moved mechanically. I never needed to think when doing this—I'd done it thousands of times. But today my mind was elsewhere—back to the conversation I'd just had with Mei.
My Son, despite his unfriendly nature, was always surrounded by friends. I was surprised when I first met Yu and Luna, especially since they are so much more bubbly compared to him. I figured the three new ones he introduced today were the same—especially Mei.
Just from the way she introduced herself, lifting her skirt for that graceful bow—I could tell she was the exact opposite of him.
How could someone like her be friends with someone like my Son? I wondered.
That question got answered just a few minutes ago. I did not doubt that the tears I saw were real. What wasn't, though, was her reasoning.
"The way you looked at me right now just reminded me of the way my late grandfather did."
It was a perfectly reasonable excuse, something that in any other situation, I'd believe with my whole heart. I'd had countless customers tell me the same story, after all.
However, the way she smiled in that moment—resembled my Son to an uncanny degree. It was almost like his face overlapped hers.
Maybe if it were anyone else, she'd get away with it. Hell—if I'd seen that smile a few months ago, she still would have gotten away with it.
But now... now I knew what it meant. Now... I could see it, or at the very least not look away.
And I knew better than anyone the deceit hidden behind it.
The question now was… why? How could she make the same face as my Son?
My grip tightened around the handle of the knife.
I don't know—and I won't ask.
Even if I did, she wouldn't tell me. My Son wouldn't, so neither would she.
The heavy weight of guilt gripped my chest, and a bitter taste rose to the tip of my tongue.
All I know is that, in the past, I was at least part of the reason behind it.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot from the tip of my index finger, snapping me back.
I calmly set the knife down and glanced at my finger. A thin red line drew across it, expanding by the second until a drop of blood seeped out.
I wiped the blood away with my thumb, then clenched my fist.
But today, I will take my first step to easing them.
I don't care if she isn't my kid.
I don't care if I hardly know her.
I just want to do better—to help her do better.
As if on cue, a bead of blood slipped out from my palm and splattered against the counter. I quickly wiped it away with my sleeve, then even more thoroughly with a sanitized towel.
Even though the counter was now clean, blood never truly went away.