it takes a while for haru to notice that kambe daisuke doesn’t eat lunch.

when the inspector questions the young billionaire about this, he gets a small shrug in return.

“the establishments i frequently patronize only operate in the evenings."

haru doesn’t know why this knowledge bothers him.

he frowns, boring concerned golden eyes into cerulean blue orbs. “that’s not healthy, kambe.”

the kambe scion waves a dismissive hand in the air. “it’s fine. i’ve grown accustomed to it.”

the remark makes haru feel weird.

he glances at the bento he’d prepared for himself before he’d left for work.

it’s hastily and haphazardly put together with leftovers from last night’s dinner, but he still wants to offer it to his partner because lunch is important.

haru flits his gaze back to the man in question, but daisuke has already vanished from his sight.

haru sighs at the lost opportunity.

he makes a mental note to bring daisuke a bento the next day.

“what’s this?”

daisuke eyes the carefully wrapped furoshiki that haru places on his desk.

“lunch,” comes the gruff reply.

with deft fingers, the kambe heir undoes the knotted cloth and removes the lid of the bento box inside.

it’s elegantly presented and well-balanced.

the inspector has clearly put it some amount of effort into preparing the meal for daisuke.

it rather catches the billionaire by surprise.

he’s simultaneously touched and perplexed by the gesture.

daisuke figures his confusion must be showing, for haru’s cheeks redden slightly as he grumbles, “make sure you finish it. i got up an hour early to cook.”

gratitude is a rare thing for daisuke to express, but the words slip out genuine and quiet.

“thank you, inspector katou.”