y’all wanted pouty baby Sanemi?
The moment your eyes land on him, your face hardens.
“No,” you flap your hands at him, shooing him back out of the storeroom. “Get out, go somewhere else, I’ll deal with you later —“
“Deal with me?” Sanemi repeats, affronted, reaching again for your books. “I came back here to see if you needed help — and hi to you too, by the way-“
You twist out of his reach. “Get out of here and stop being a distraction!”
Sanemi’s eyebrows knit together. “How the fuck is me offerin’ to help a distraction —?”
Groaning, you slam your stack of books back on the steel shelf. “Because you are!”
“Excuse the fuck outta me for tryin’ to dote on my girl after not seein’ her for a goddamn week —“
“I don’t have time for your tantrum,” you flip your hair over your shoulder and cock a hip out, glaring at him. “Go entertain yourself until this —“ you gesture loosely behind you at throng of people crowding around the check out counter. “Is taken care of.”
Sanemi folds his arms across his chest, mimicking your stance. “And do what, exactly?”
“I don’t care!” You hiss. “Just keep out of the way!”
He stares at you for a moment longer, and if you weren’t so up to your ears in retail bullshit, you’d almost think he looked cute. There’s an adorable scrunch in his nose matched only by his very obvious pout.
Sanemi clicks his tongue. “Fine,” he says petulantly. “I’ll just fuck off somewhere else ‘til you decide to remember me —“
You don’t spare him another moment, not as you snatch up the books once more and make a beeline for the crush of customers. Once, your cool dismissiveness had been a turn-on; a baited hook he couldn’t help latching onto. He’s still a little turned on by the sharp way you’d spoken to him — he can’t help but be a slave to someone capable of bossing him around — but he’s also a little bruised.
Near the back corner of the store, tucked between the shelves for biographies and self-help manuals is a small reading area. A plush corner of seat cushions and lumpy beanbags, a tiny plastic table sandwiched between them. Cozy, but not so comfortable as to encourage loitering — as per the owner’s desires.
It’s in one of these beanbags where Sanemi plops his grumpy ass, arms still folded stubbornly across his chest while he sulks. The reading area is within perfect view of the clerk’s counter, though that was more to allow you to keep an eye on any customers who might try and take advantage of the store’s hospitality.
Instead, it gives Sanemi a direct line to glare at your stupidly perfect back.