Middle of Nowhere
.
.
The eye contacts are a little too intense.
"Tokito..."
"Hey wait... I—"
The heartbeats are a little too loud.
"I've been wanting it for so long, you know."
"But I don't think—"
The innuendos are a little too tantalizing to bear.
"Ah, thank you for the meal, Tokito."
"Aaah, my lunch! Give it back, Kubo-chan!"
But the flirtation is a little too precious to abandon.
.
.
Tokito never thinks much about their relationship. To him, they are how they are. No justification is ever needed.
He is not the type to say, "I like you, Kubo-chan." Kubota of all people should know that he has zero tact. It would be difficult not to see how he feels.
He never expects Kubota to say such a thing, either.
Not that Kubota never does. Kubota's boldness knows no limit. Tokito thinks they might have crossed the boundary of friendship over and again, had they bothered to define it.
Sometimes Tokito catches Kubota glancing at him and smirking, as if he knows something Tokito doesn't.
("What is it, Kubo-chan?" he would ask, and Kubota would say there was tomato sauce on his cheek, and then Tokito would have to point out that everyone had left the room and there was no need for Kubota to make a show of licking off said sauce, which turned out non-existent anyway.)
But when Kubota distracts him with an arm around his shoulders and silly jokes in his ears, Tokito forgets that Kubota is a head taller and that Kubota lies and bluffs with an adult's abandon.
So all in all, Tokito never thinks much about these things.
Otherwise he might have noticed that Kubota flirted with purpose.
Otherwise he might have caught on that Kubota was simply waiting.
.
.