sakusa doesn’t know how he ends up in these situations, really.
he figures all odds are just always against him.
“that’s a nasty dent,” you say with raised brows. “now that i’m looking at it, it’s really bad.” he groans, rubbing a hand over his face, sighing deeply.
“yes,thank you, y/n. i’m glad i have you around to point out the obvious,” he says flatly. and he’s not sure how anything can beat this, the day can’t possibly seem to get worse, but then you chuckle.
he debates if it’s time for you both to go your separate ways as his lips purse.
“omi,” you snort, shaking your head. “you’ve really no clue what you’re doing, do you?”
“huh?” he looks at you incredulously, and he almost looks offended by your words. it’s not his fault he’s never had someone ram into his car before. and all things considered, he thinks that makes him an excellent driver, and the same can’t be said for you—at least, in his mind.
“you just stood there,” you shake your head. “i’m the one who got their insurance. what would you have done if i wasn’t here?”
“i don’t know…” he trails off. “probably call my dad.” his lips form into a cute pout, making your heart skip a beat at the sight. you pinch his cheek as he crosses his arms and turns away from you, blush rising across his face. one month into college and sakusa’s already had his car dented by some random student in the parking lot, and he thinks it’s only going to get worse from here on out.
he wonders if it’s too early to quit.
“kiyoomi,” you snort. “you never cease to shock me. how do you drive the most expensive vehicle on the premises and not know anything else other than how to drive it?” he scowls, glaring at you as he huffs indignantly.
“first of all, i didn’t even pick this car, okay? it’s just the one my dad got. and it’s not my fault i’ve never been hit before,” he glowers. “how was i supposed to know you have to ask for their insurance?”
“because, baby,” you shake your head in amusement, rubbing over his tensed shoulders. “it’s common knowledge.”
“well, i didn’t know that,” he mumbles, staring at the damage on his car glumly. his finger traces over the edge of the dent, shoulders slumping at the feel. you kiss his jaw as you rub his chest soothingly.
“it’s okay, my little spoiled brat. you have me,” you grin. and sometimes you’re amazed at just how dense sakusa kiyoomi can be, how dependent he really is, even if everything about him screams independent. you suppose it’s to be expected when he comes from such wealth, but it’s amusing no less.
he’s mildly offended at the notion of being called spoiled, but he can’t exactly refute it, he thinks. but spoiled doesn’t always equal happy, sakusa’s the first to attest to that—but he has you.
“what if they can’t fix it?”
“it’s a dent, okay? your door didn’t fold in half,” you huff through a chuckle. he grumbles incoherently. reaching for his hand, you lace your fingers, squeezing it in yours. “hey,” you gather his attention on you. “it’s okay, when we’re happily married with two dogs and a big house, i’ll take care of you,” you grin. “lord knows you need me, you have no real-life skills.”
sakusa wonders why his first accident had to be with youto bear witness—you’ll never let him live this down, and you probably think he’s an utter fool, but his lips still turn upwards into a small grin anyway.
“don’t be so sure,” he counters. “you’re pretty lazy, someone’s gotta do things around the house.”
and you suppose that’s why you and sakusa kiyoomi work so well. you’re not opposites—you simply fill in the gaps for each other. his hand squeezes yours back, and you shuffle in closer.
“guess we’re a pretty good match, huh?” you grin cheekily, and he cracks a tiny smile, turning to face you and pull you into his chest.
in the two years he’s dated you, he’s never really considered how far you both would go. but college really changes that. it makes him crave a life with you—domestic and homely and warm. sakusa remembers when you’d told him you’d be attending university with him—he denies it still, but he definitely did tear up, your eyes were not deceiving you like he claims.
he leans in and kisses you briefly, closing his eyes at the familiarity, inhaling sharply at the way it still never gets old.
“you witnessed me get into my first accident,” he murmurs against your lips. “you have to sign a contract binding you to me for life.” he places one, two, three small pecks to your lips.
“i think i can live with that, omi,” you whisper, kissing him again. the dent on his car is long forgotten as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer. “sounds like a great contract.”
