And I Was Waiting For My Nanami - Blog Posts

⟶ kento food court meet cute

⟶ well hey.. who missed me ;p my first time writing for sir kento nanami NGH i want him bad. ANYWAY sorry for going mia it's been a big week for me u guys i relapsed, i applied for jobs, i got in a car accident, and MOST IMPORTANTLY name change. i go by mio on other socials so from here on out all my shit will be tagged under mio i hope that's not too confusing ;p ALSO im slightly changing the layout of my posts from here on out as in im removing one of the banners ok anyway please enjoy and im very sorry for my absence 💓

cw :: fem!reader, shat this out in abt half an hour, reader wears glasses, possibly ooc!kento look ive never written for him before ALLOW IT, fluff/crack

Kento Nanami detests food courts.

So many loud, bustling people, restaurants selling overpriced, greasy food. He'd much rather pack his lunch in advance and eat it on the go.

However, even with his tight scheduling and near-perfect memory, he can slip and forget. He only realises he’s forgotten when he reaches for his packed lunch and finds nothing but stale air inside his satchel.

He sighs.

His lip curls as he taps against the sticky screen of the menu. He detests fast food, but when it's between Mcdonald's and KFC, he's choosing the latter. Boneless wings combo meal with medium fries and water.

He picks up his meal from the counter with a nod to the woman handing it to him, before turning to find an empty seat.

He furrows his brows. 1PM on a Saturday. Of course it's busy.

Circling around the food court once, twice, he can't find a single empty table. He settles for sharing a larger table with two other individuals eating alone. Sat in silence, and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, he begins eating.

He is about 30% through his meal when someone sits opposite him, and oh, God.

He glances upwards, and suddenly his French fry went down the wrong way and he's coughing, eyes tearing up.

God, how pathetic is he? One glance at a pretty woman and he's choking on his food, taking gulps of his water to wash it down. Even worse, you're staring at him with worry, frozen still as if you're not sure whether to call for help or perform the Heimlich or just offer him some more water.

“... Are you okay?” you say. People are beginning to stare, and he's taking gulps of his water.

“Yes, thank you,” he says hoarsely. “Just went down the wrong way.”

You smile placidly, before turning your attention to your meal. A McDonald’s happy meal. Interesting choice.

He returns to his own food, too. He tries not to stare, but he can't help but steal glasses. The way your hair falls around your face, and the glint of your eyes through your frames, and your manicured nails, and the way you take tiny little bites of your food, and he can't help but know that if he left without speaking to you, or getting your number, he'd be kicking himself for the rest of his life.

Tell her you like her keychains, Kento. Start simple.

“You’re very beautiful.”

Shit. That was not what he meant to say.

You glance up, furrow your brows when you realise he’s looking at you, then you're smiling slightly bashfully. “Thank you!”

His face doesn't betray how horrified he is feeling at his now evident lack of game, rather, he manages to return your sweet little smile. “Do you often eat at food courts?”

“No, not really,” you say. “It's too loud. But I forgot to pack my lunch today.”

Kento can't help but bark out a laugh, clearing his throat when you look up at him in confusion. “Pardon me. It's just that I’m here for the same reason. I can’t stand this place.”

You giggle. “Matching.”

The two of you lapse into silence as you finish eating. You finish your meal before him, but he notices that even after packing up your trash, you're lingering in your seat. This is his chance, and he knows you're thinking the same thing.

He forces his eyes to stay on yours, refusing to let his lack of game drag his gaze away from the beautiful girl before him.

“Would you like to give me your number? Then… maybe we can go to a food court together sometime,” he says.

Fucking hell Kento. ‘Would you like to give me your number?’ Like you're doing her a favour? God, you're seriously going to die al—

You slide a napkin over the table, where you've already scrawled your digits. “Maybe we can go someplace nicer than a food court, huh?”

He blinks owlishly, looking between you and the napkin. He clears his throat. “Of course. I'll… I'll call you.”

You smile once more, sling your bag over your shoulder, and leave without another word.

Kento Nanami loves food courts.