An Embrace

Miya ran back towards the entrance and Mukashi. He held a plastic bag in his hands that bore Zygeist Media's logo on it. 
     Once she was close to him, she spoke up. As she did, her instructor walked past her and out of the gymnasium once more.
     "Thank you for the food." She bowed and gently took it from his hands.
     Mukashi nodded dispassionately as she did so.
     Once Miya held the food, she looked around for somewhere to sit. She saw the folding metal chair that she'd used earlier and moved towards it, her right hand reaching out for it.
     Mukashi saw what she was doing and realized that he'd forgotten to return the chair to the fourth floor when he'd gone to get her lunch. He made a file to remind himself not to forget something like that again. He reached for the chair.
     Their hands brushed against each other as they both grabbed the chair at the same time.
     Miya immediately retracted her hand and put it at her side. 
     Mukashi saw what she did out of the corner of his eye and registered her response coolly. Then, he quickly set up the chair for her and set it down for her to sit in.
     "T-thank you." She bowed at Mukashi once more before sitting down. 
     Mukashi watched calmly as Miya sat, with perfect posture, and opened the bag of Latin American cuisine. After having worked with her for three years, he knew that it was her favorite kind of food that Zygeist Media provided. He normally didn't let her have it since it wasn't calorically dense enough to meet her needs, and the items on the Latin American menu that did fit that description were very sugary and wouldn't benefit her in the long run. 
     However, in order to take her mind off the incident from that morning, he decided to purchase it for her. It wouldn't matter as much that day. Considering that she'd missed two hours of practice, she didn't need as many calories as normal.
     Miya bit into the taco and savored it. She chewed it slowly, loving the juicy sweetness of the diced tomato and the crisp coolness of the lettuce. The flour tortilla was slightly powdery, but it was just as flavorful as any of the fillings. The ground beef was slightly salty, and she closed her eyes in order to focus more fully on how it combined with the other ingredients of the taco.
     Her eyes flew open as she realized what was happening. She swallowed the current bite of her taco, then breathed slightly and turned to look at Mukashi over her shoulder.
     "M-Mukashi, you never get me tacos."
     He glanced at her.
     "Finish your food; there are only four minutes left for your lunch."
     "W-what? It hasn't..." She remembered that her lunch had to be shortened that day in order to fit in more practice because of what she'd done in the morning. "Oh. Right."
     She looked back at the taco in her hands and hesitated.
     She didn't like eating quickly. it made her feel guilty. 
     Still, the taco found its way into her mouth after a moment. 
     Each bite didn't taste right. The tomatoes were too sweet and sugary. The lettuce was too watery. The tortilla was chewy and sticky. The ground beef was too salty.
     Mukashi noticed how Miya's pace with her food had changed. 
     While he would have liked to do something to help her avoid feeling bad about eating, they were on too tight a schedule for him to solve every problem at once. He'd make sure to give her a lighter dinner so that her mental state wouldn't deteriorate any further. He glanced at his watch again. There was only one minute left for her lunch.
     Miya finished the taco. She crumpled up the bag it had come in and stood up, before gently handing it to Mukashi. He took it, then looked down at her. She hoped that he'd say something to help her feel a little better. She knew it was a little selfish to expect him to handle all of her problems for her, but at that moment she felt too nauseous to care.
     He realized that if he didn't do something to help her, she was probably going to do something negative again. He reached into his files and started going through memories to see what people did to comfort each other. He'd already offered to let her touch him, but it was clear that she wasn't going to initiate anything in her current state. 
     Miya bit her lip and looked away from Mukashi as he took the crumpled bag and put it into one of his pockets. She wanted to touch him, but she knew that her instructor was liable to walk back in at any moment, and it wouldn't be fair to put Mukashi in another situation that he'd have to explain on the same day that he'd had to talk to a doctor. She started to take a step back.
     Mukashi remembered how his parents would hug his older brother Hyon whenever he needed consolation. The situation with Miya was similar enough that acting upon the memory would make sense. He glanced behind Miya towards the large metal doors of the gymnasium, then looked at his watch, and made up his mind.
     Without a single word, his arms wrapped around Miya and his head lowered onto her shoulder.
     She stopped.
     Her breath caught in her throat. 
     His arms were strong. His body seemed to exude a sense of calm decisiveness, and she realized that she'd been breathing rather quickly. His head was near hers. She could hear the soft rustle of fabric as her breaths slowed. She didn't know what to do in response, and so her hands stayed firmly at her sides, her body rigid in Mukashi's embrace.
     After a few moments, she heard him speak into her ear.
     "Do you feel better yet?" He asked calmly.
     Miya's eyes widened, and she wondered how long she could convince Mukashi to stay there, holding her close to himself. 
     Before she could say anything, the doors to the gymnasium opened and her instructor stepped in. Miya couldn't see him from her position, but she heard him gasp. She nearly fainted. It felt strangely intrusive of her instructor to see her being hugged. She wanted to say something to defend herself, but her instructor had authority over her; she was in no position to say anything to him about what she did.
     "If you say anything about this to anyone, you will lose your job." Mukashi's voice was firm. 
     Miya heard her instructor stammer out a response, but what he said wasn't important. She could feel a smile begin pulling at the corners of her mouth as she realized what Mukashi had done for her.
     He stood up and ended the embrace. Miya looked at him as he continued looking at the instructor. His steely eyes and sharp chin looked absolutely tyrannical from where she stood, and she could only imagine how terrifying it must have been for her instructor to see.
     "She normally does vocal exercises after lunch, but today has been difficult." He said to the instructor as he stepped away from Miya and towards the large metal doors. "If she becomes ill, I will assume you did not do your best to accommodate her changed schedule."
     "Yes sir." The instructor said obediently as he stepped past Mukashi and towards Miya. 
     She watched him approach. 
     "Let's begin with marching twists."
     "Yes sir." Miya said. 
     Mukashi watched as Miya slowly went through her routine for the concert later that evening. The hug seemed to be very effective, if her facial expressions and posture were anything to draw conclusions from. He put the information away in another file, then glanced at the folding metal chair Miya had sat in. 
     He grabbed it, then stepped out of the gymnasium with it in his grasp. He opened the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor, his posture straight and strong.
     Miya did her best to organize her thoughts as she moved from marching twists to alternating toe touches. Mukashi had always been strictly professional with her. In the three years that she'd known him, he'd always seemed so aloof and ethereal. 
     She'd thought he was just as cold and professional as her instructor; that if push came to shove, he'd throw her away like any other fan. 
     But in just eight hours he'd done so much for her that she was starting to question her previous conclusions about him. He'd saved her life, stood up for her when her instructor snapped at her, gotten her some of her favorite food, and then he'd hugged her.
     She finished her alternating toe touches.
     The last time she'd been hugged was before she'd run away from home.