DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.

Note:Takes place after Chapter 309. This one didn't come from a prompt word, though I was inspired after a friend screenshotted something sweet her husband had sent to her. Woke up this morning and busted it out. Reviews always welcome XD

Be Reloadable

Ren Tsuruga stared at his phone screen. He knew he should put the damn thing away—browsing your phone in bed was one sure way to ruin sleep habits. And it's not like he ever had enough time to sleep anyway.

He was scrolling through Instagram on his personal account—a private, pictureless, featureless nobody-page that no one would ever think to associate with him. He didn't actually have anything to do with his verified account—Yashiro and LME handled it. But he'd already looked through every picture she'd uploaded, and she didn't upload terribly many things.

Should he text her?

He wanted to text her.

Would it be too much if he texted her?

They'd both been busy today, him with another fight scene with Koga and she with Moko working on Moko's diction. He hadn't had a chance to have that private talk with her yet—and if he were to be honest with himself, he had no idea what to say. He just wanted to talk to her. To spend time with her. To ask her how her day was.

In private. In his apartment.

He felt his body flush.

No, Hizuri, you're not going there, he thought to himself. His relationship with her was innocent. He wasn't going to spoil it with thoughts he knew would make her blush and hide.

But…He groaned, pushing away Setsu thoughts. Setsu thoughts were bad. Or very good. Too good.

He was proud of how she'd handled Liar's costume—she'd been confident in it. No blushes.

…No blushes, even though the way she blushed was adorable. The way she lectured him was adorable. The way she was so earnest about bettering her craft. And she was so talented in so many ways—his heart had done flips when he saw the little charms dangling from her bag the other day. She'd saved his dandelions in resin. He was sure she'd be mortified if she thought he'd noticed them.

He loved watching her hands work, how deft and sure they were with a blade. He loved how she looked when she was deep in thought, how her eyebrows furrowed when she was worried about something. And the way that costume hugged those lithe little hips…

No, he told himself again.

Again he checked his phone, looking to see if maybe she'd texted. Or if she'd reacted to the comment he'd left anonymously on her personal page, the one with the food pictures that no one really knew was her's. Kyoko didn't have an official verified account. Not yet. LME was still handling her posts on the agency page.

Of course she hadn't texted. Kyoko never did text first.

How was your day? he typed, and then deleted. All of this love for her and he was typing in "How was your day?" like a complete chump.

I'm thinking of you, he typed next. No, that wasn't it, either. Wasn't that creepy? Was it too creepy? Was he a creep!? He was a creep. It was settled.

I miss you, he entered, and his finger hovered over the paper airplane. He sighed and deleted that too. He didn't have a right to miss her. He wasn't her boyfriend, not yet.

He swiped away from his texts and checked out his gallery. He'd managed to score some footage of her with Kotonami-san and he loved watching her act.

Ha. He'd watch her watch paint dry, if he could.

He grabbed his extra pillow, scrunching it close. He scrolled through his gallery—pictures he'd taken, secretly, were mixed with screenshots from Box-R and Dark Moon. He'd managed to download shots from professional photographers found on LME's site, too. He was watching one of her commercials for the hundredth time when he stopped, groaned, and then turned restlessly on his bed.

It was late. He needed to sleep. She was probably sleeping, wasn't it too late to get a text from her? And it was definitely too late to text her.

He'd love to watch her sleep someday.

UGH. Why are you so creepy, Kuon? he asked himself.

But it didn't help the longing. Every moment he spent with her left him wanting more. All those rides he gave her back home, watching her bow politely and then turn away. Was that hard for her too? Did she feel that terrible ache when they parted?

Kyoko-chan, he typed. I want to hold your hand. He looked at it with a rueful grin on his face. He could only imagine the look she'd have on her face reading that.

But his eyes nearly bugged out of his head when his phone dinged.

Ok, he told himself. It's probably Yashiro. He didn't want to be disappointed when it wasn't her. Don't get your hopes up, dude, he thought.

But he trembled a little, anyway, as he checked.

And then he saw it—one little text, and suddenly his entire world lit up like Shibuya Crossing.

Tsuruga-san, it read, did you eat tonight?

He grinned as waves of relief and release poured over him. Four words from her and every worry lifted off his shoulders. He felt himself unclench as the anxiety melted away. So she was thinking of him—at least a little. It had been a while since he'd sent her a video of him eating his food, he supposed.

Sorry, Mogami-san, he typed back. We got back from the set late. I had a protein bar, though. It was a response that he knew would incense her…was he evil for knowing that? He hadn't not eaten on purpose, it had just happened. Old habits died hard. But he watched his phone like an eagle—she would text him back, he was sure of it.

He held his breath.

One minute passed.

Two minutes passed.

He began to doubt himself. What if she didn't care?

The ringing of his phone might as well have been choirs of angels singing.

He'd been holding his breath and he hadn't even realized it.

He fumbled, hand trembling as he swiped to answer the call. "Tsuruga-san," said the voice on the other end, "you know you have to eat! Especially after a day like today—you worked so hard!"

He sprawled backwards on his bed, extended his limbs outward in joy. "I know, I know," he said. "Maybe I just missed your cooking, Mogami-san…"

She sputtered.

His smile hurt.

He was the happiest man in Tokyo.