Pitbabe S2, Chapter 36 pg 4
Pitbabe S2, Chapter 36 pg 4
“I’m definitely coming. I’m not waiting a whole year.”
Sonic laughed and lightly patted my back before sliding his hand up to ruffle my hair, making it a total mess. I had to pull away from the hug to fix it, barely managing in time.
“Ruined my style,” I grumbled, trying to smooth my hair back into place, though it didn’t seem to help much. Meanwhile, the culprit behind my wrecked hairstyle stood there chuckling, clearly pleased with himself.
“Why so worried about looking good?”
“Hey, a broken heart needs a new love, you know,” I shot back, striking a dramatic pose for extra flair. “You dumped me, so I gotta find someone new. If I’m not handsome, who’s gonna give me a second look?”
“But there’s only me here.”
“Hmm… true.”
Sonic shook his head in mock exasperation before glancing out at the field. Phii Alan was arguing with Jeff by Dean’s car. Those two were probably bickering over what to tune up first, as usual. Ever since they got through the dark phase of their relationship, they seemed to argue even more, but oddly, the feeling that they might break up was gone. I figured they’d keep squabbling for a long time yet.
“Where’s Kim, by the way?” I asked Sonic, my eyes still glued to the scene, half-expecting Jeff to whack Phii Alan with a wrench any second.
“Said he went back home for a bit.”
“Huh?” I frowned, surprised. “Right now?”
“Weird, right?”
“Very.”
“I bet he’s off to see Kenta.”
That wasn’t hard to guess. Those two were officially living together now. Kim said Kenta was his roommate since he had nowhere else to go. After the Tony mess ended, Kenta was left with nothing. Once he went back to court and proved he didn’t kill anyone—that stabbing Tony was self-defense—he was considered to have paid his dues (honestly, more than he owed). So now, Kim had basically taken in a stray cat by default.
“Wild, huh,” I chuckled softly. When I first heard those two were close, I was already shocked, but seeing just how close they were with my own eyes? Honestly, I still can’t get used to it. “You think they’re into each other?”
“I’d say yeah,” Sonic replied, dead serious. “But Kim insists they’re just friends.”
“Ugh, I hear that excuse all the time.”
“Like with us, huh?”
“Don’t even go there.”
Sonic burst out laughing. Honestly, it’s kind of nice that we’re comfortable enough to joke about this now, but I wish he’d show a little consideration for the heartbroken guy here. Sometimes my heart isn’t as tough as my mouth.
“Why do those guys seem to level up their relationship so easily?” I couldn’t help but ask, curiosity getting the better of me. “Why is it impossible for you and me?”
“Hmm…” Sonic seemed to ponder it more seriously than I did. It looked like he might’ve been wondering the same thing. “Maybe because they’re not as good friends as we are?”
“You think so?”
“Yeah,” Sonic nodded confidently, making me crack a smile at his thoughtful chatter. “Or am I a bad friend to you?”
“You’re pretty bad,” I said, shoving his shoulder. “No duo’s as good as you and me.”
The deeper-than-friendship feelings I’ve always had for Sonic are real. Even now, they’re still there, and it might take a while for them to fade. But what’s even truer is our friendship. I don’t think it’s easy to find someone who’s like a soulmate, someone who seems to understand everything, as if we’ve shared a corner of each other’s hearts since birth. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have someone like that in their life, and I can’t exactly call myself lucky either. Honestly, I’m more of a magnet for bad luck. But amidst the heaps of misfortune in my ordinary life, he’s my tiny bit of good fortune.
KIM:
“Why’d you come back? I told you I’ve got this handled.”
I stood there, eyeing the guy who claimed he had it “handled,” with mixed feelings. Part of me was relieved he seemed to be managing, while another part was wondering how to deal with the absolute mess of a kitchen in front of me.
Half an hour ago, Kenta called to ask what I wanted for dinner. I jokingly said I’d eat anything he made, but he didn’t seem to catch the joke. He enthusiastically agreed and hung up.
About half an hour later, he called back, sounding a bit down, asking if I’d be mad if the kitchen had a few burn marks.
That’s why I had to rush back from the training field, barely getting through a few reps. When I opened the door, the first thing that hit me was the smell of smoke. A few seconds later, I saw the scene: a Japanese guy in a cat-patterned apron, hair as wild as a newborn kitten, a smudge of black soot artistically smeared on his cheek. One hand held a pot lid, the other a jug of water, with my kitchen in the background covered in white dust. He looked at me, tilting his head slightly, as if asking, “Why’re you here?”
Still wondering why I came?
“You mad?” Kenta asked, his face nervous, as I stood still and didn’t reply. Seeing him like that, I kinda wanted to mess with him. If I pretended to be seriously mad, I’d probably get some hilarious reactions. But the longer I stayed quiet, the more dejected he looked, so I couldn’t bring myself to tease him. “It was just a small technical error…”
Comments
Post a Comment