The streets of Shibuya are crowded and bustling, each person moving about in their day. Anyone who takes a moment to stand still and breathe it in is overwhelmed by the sheer volume, the profound magnitude of others living their lives separately yet existing at the same time as the people around them. It's strange and beautiful, in a profound way that's entirely lost on those absorbed in their own concerns.
Watanuki Sakuya is one such person.
He walks languidly on long, jean-clad legs that stretch for miles, his pace slow as a snail. He has nowhere to be, nowhere to go, content to exist with blaring music that will destroy his sense of hearing. He's careful to maneuver around others, a prickle of heat settling on his skin that refuses to leave. Sweat pools beneath his brow as he follows the flow of the crowd, and Sakuya scowls at nothing in particular. Irritation simmers under the surface of his skin, growling and ready to snap at a moment's notice.
A dull ache stabs him in his abdomen as he walks, reminding him that he hasn't eaten yet. Sakuya hurriedly finds a place to rest and digs through his pockets, looking for money. He pulls out about ¥10,000, enough for a hamburger and a shake at the nearest McDonald's. He doesn't actually know where it is, but he has a phone and a whole day to waste so he shrugs and begins walking again, weaving between the flock of businessmen and teenagers alike.
Following the line of stores down the street, Sakuya quickly merges into the throng of people, his gaze trained onto the giant M sign on the other side. His eyes lower, expertly scanning the distance between himself and the fast food restaurant.
An arm catches his immediate attention, waving and bobbing energetically above heads. The arm in question is connected to a boy about his age, with short brown hair and eyes the color of rich earth. He's tall, just a little under Sakuya's height, and his face is rounded with slim baby fat, attractive with its own charm. Sakuya isn't one to be poetic but he feels that he could spend hours weaving poems together to describe the boy across the street.
(Then again, his first thought about the boy's eyes were "warm dirt" so he might need to pay better attention in Japanese Literature.)
Flustered and, just a tad confused, Sakuya waves back. The boy is making eye contact with him, and Sakuya isn't that rude. The boy blinks, then, his face mirroring Sakuya's own confusion. His stomach turns at the abrupt change in expression, horror beginning to dawn on him.
Behind Sakuya, someone shuffles forward. He turns to the side slightly as the newcomer raises their hand in greeting, his own hand faltering and falling to the side. Similar red eyes peer at him from their corner, a small grimace tilting the person's mouth downward. Red fills in his pale cheeks and he holds in the urge to scream. Sakuya's entire world shatters underneath his feet as all the pieces line up, and he can physically feel his soul removing itself from his body in a sad attempt to escape the overwhelming embarrassment that plagues him.
"It's such a pain to get up before one," the strange comments to himself, yawning without seemingly caring that Sakuya is dead on the inside. Sakuya prays to every god, thanking them that the stranger beside him didn't comment on his fumble.
Sakuya attempts to go back the way he came, food the absolute last thing on his mind, but he's still too caught up in his own embarrassment to move very far, his stomach churning uncomfortably and anxiety humming in his veins.
(He doesn't notice the cute stranger crossing the street, and he definitely does not notice the slight flush on his cheeks either.)
"Kuro!" A sweet, angelic voice says to the person next to Sakuya. 'Kuro' yawns again, covering his mouth with a hand. "You're late! Ack, it would have been simpler to come together!" The boy sternly scolds, his finger wagging at the teen.
(Sakuya hopes some god will have mercy on him and strike him down where he stands but they don't-clearly his life is a sick, sick joke.)
The boy turns to Sakuya with a small smile and a dusting of blush on his tanned skin. Sakuya's heart literally stops and his cheeks fill up with even more blood, and he's absolutely positive that he looks like a tomato.
"My name's Shirota Mahiru," he introduces himself brightly, stepping into Sakuya's personal space. Sakuya blinks dumbly, jaw falling open and closing.
"Uhhhh Watanuki Sakuya?" he says his name like it's a question, unsure and unable to think with the pretty boy so close to him. "Sorry? Um? About? That?" Mahiru's smile grows even wider and Sakuya is literally dying again because life is so cruel to him.
"I thought it was cute," he says, and Sakuya short circuits. Kuro stares listlessly at the two, an absentminded hum lodged in his throat.
"I think you broke him Mahiru," Kuro states matter-of-factly. Mahiru sputters at him.
"W-What! It was just simpler to tell him!" Mahiru shouts, his blush growing worse at the implications. Kuro coughs into his hand, masking his laughter at his friend, while Sakuya stares at the two awkwardly, his mind trying to pick itself back up.
(Mahiru and Kuro end up dragging Sakuya into MacDonald's and treat him to lunch to apologize for breaking him.)
(He's not complaining too much since he can't possibly pass up a free meal and a new number burning a hole in his pocket.)
i love servamp sm tbh...,,,,let sakuya be Happy for once my poor baby boy deserves it