If you'll be my boat, I'll be your sea,
"Kenma?"
A messy head of bright orange curls bounced into the employee break room, pausing before the blond male. His laptop was tilted just acute to his eye level, fingers pressed emptily against the black keys. "Hm? What is it, Shouyou?"
The energetic store owner leaned into the room, his customary smile disappearing when it wasn't needed. "We have a customer you might know."
"Unless it's Tooru, I highly doubt it." The blond glanced upwards at his boss, at the flowers peaking from his shirt collar. There was a daffodil in his hair, though he wasn't sure how it got there.
"Well, he plays with Tooru; does that count?"
Kenma huffed absently, gently shutting the case of his computer. Shouyou's face looked so different in the dark.
"No, I wouldn't. He can't stand to be seen with me, remember?"
The ginger chewed his lip anxiously, picking at the mud under his fingers. He knew that the toxic pair had been having problems since day one, despite their constant pull towards one another in physical intimacy. It was hard to watch his friend share chaste kisses on the back porch and left sobbing the next morning.
And yet the struggling poet continued to crawl back to the insensitive volleyball player, all for misplaced moments of affection.
Shouyou paused, his eyes scanning over the dead electronic in front of the blond.
"Anyway, how's writing going? Visual poetry, right?"
His lips curved upwards bitterly. "Scream poetry, actually."
The shop owner blinked, grinning at the attitude change his employee went through at the mention of his craft. "What are you screaming about?" he added playfully.
The poet smirked.
"Everything."