That's Not How It Went
(...but we can dream, can't we?)

I think this is my first time writing a chapter reaction fic? Be gentle with me; my imagination was kind of overstimulated by all this amazing development. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Her hand was wrapped gently in Rens and she could feel the intense warmth of his fingers as they encircled her pinky. She struggled to focus on her breathing because it was becoming increasingly more difficult to remember to fill her lungs with air every few seconds—or minutes. All six of her senses (because her veritable armada of tiny grudge demons certainly counted as a sixth) were going haywire from being overstimulated. Hearing was still holding on by a thread because Ren was talking to her, but only just. She could scarcely hear him properly over the jackhammering of her heart.

Ren seemed to notice this and pulled back a bit to give her some space. Grateful for his consideration, she smiled. One of her demons, crippled by the emotional blow Ren dealt her mere seconds before, dragged itself along by one arm to cry out to her and remind her to breathe again. She sucked in another lungful of air.

Between the space and the additional oxygen, both her vision and hearing were starting to improve. Her eyes suddenly fixated on the way the overhead light in the elevator created a halo effect around Ren's head. Her ears suddenly noticed that the faint dinging noise she'd been previously ignoring had stopped… and was replaced by an ear-piercing screech. Her face went from feverish red to deathly pale in an instant.

The elevator door was opening.

Loudly.

Someone should probably take a look at it soon because she was pretty sure it shouldn't be that noisy when sliding open. When the sound continued for much longer than she'd deemed necessary for the doors to fully open, her brow wrinkled in confusion. Ren's face soon mirrored hers. He must have picked up on the noise as well. However, his reaction was not one of dread. Instead, he hung his head and a long, low guttural sigh escaped his mouth before turning to look towards the door.

Kyoko's gaze followed his and she choked on the next breath she (finally) remembered to take. The elevator door wasn't opening. Nor was it malfunctioning. Nor had it just opened. It was already open; for how long, she couldn't be sure as her reckoning of time elapsing was thrown out the window the minute Ren barged into the elevator with his proverbial 'guns blazing.'

And just outside of the elevator stood their manager.

The sound was coming from him.

Tip him over and pour him out because Yashiro Yukihito was the biggest little teapot in existence.

Ren sighed again. Kyoko began babbling a series of nonsensical syllables. And Yashiro just kept on squealing. His briefcase was on the ground, long forgotten having apparently dropped from his hands. Said hands were now clasped so tightly against his chest, his knuckles had turned white. Just when Kyoko's mind absently wondered if he also needed to be reminded to breathe, he stopped. And then he spoke.

"OH—"

"Stop," Ren warned, she could feel his hand tense around hers.

"MY—"

"No."

"GOSH!"

He repeated the three words over and over while he bounced excitedly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Is this finally happening?!"

"Please—"

"Has he actually confessed how he feels?" He asked Kyoko, his hands now pressed against his cheeks. "It's about damn time. He's only been madly in love with you for, like, eighteen years."

"Please stop—"

She was pretty sure the only thing keeping her standing was the fact that Ren had yet to release her hand. Her knees wobbled violently and she braced her other hand against the elevator wall.

"Okay, so it's actually a little over a year," Yashiro corrected himself. "But it feels like so so much longer."

"Yashiro-san." Ren had fully turned around by that point and enunciated every syllable with a quiet sternness that stopped the man in his tracks. "I think Mogami-san is a little too overwhelmed at the moment for your level of… exuberance. I am asking you to please respect that and give her some space."

In the blink of an eye, Yashiro Yukihito: Squealing Fanboy became Yashiro Yukihito: Consummate Professional Manager. He picked up his briefcase and stood back up with perfectly straightened posture while smoothing a hand against his suit jacket. He cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses and gave the pair a quick, apologetic bow.

With a nod of acceptance, Ren slowly led Kyoko out of the elevator and into the parking garage by the hand he still held, his other wrapped around her shoulders to keep her upright. She was thankful that he kept his pace slow as all she could manage were very awkward, shaky steps; the full weight of the situation now bringing itself to bear on her. She was wrecked emotionally, physically and mentally, which had never been a good combination for her in the past. It usually led her to say things that either got her into trouble—or got her into show business.

It seemed this occasion would be no different.

"Between your terrible puns and his terrible squealing, I think falling in love with you may have been an unwise decision." The bewildered words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

So too did Yashiro's briefcase tumble from his grip (again). So too did her hand tumble from Ren's when he stopped abruptly while she kept walking.

She turned to see both men staring wide-eyed at her with mouths agape.

And the shrieking began anew.

-END-


MY HAND SLIPPED AGAIN! I wrote this in an hour and didn't proofread (update: a little proofing has been done, mostly to include my precious em dashes) so I am fully prepared to fall upon my own sword, but this wouldn't leave me alone until it was written. While I can blame many people for this happening, I really only have myself to blame.

But, hey, you all have something new to read so that has to count for something, right?

Right?!

AUTHOR OUT!