"Saiko, I still don't think this is a good idea—"

"Maman, I've said this at least, like, ten times in the past minute. You look fine."

No, I bet I look horrible and no one's telling me.

Although I've never been to highschool, or at least "Sasaki Haise" hasn't, I feel like I'm there. Flustered, nervous, but strangely giddy—that's exactly it.

The cliché, nervousness on first dates, is perfectly understandable now. I am undeniably nervous. Ever since my mind started considering this meeting with Kirishima-san as a "date", I can't stop thinking it. Or rather, her. I asked Saiko why she called this a date, and she said it's because I was obviously attracted to her.

I can't deny the fact I have certainly been—well, attracted to other people. Of course I have, but nothing like this. I don't even know where to begin describing it, considering it's impossible to put into words. Certainly, Kirishima-san is beautiful, but there's still something else that I can't put my finger on.

I'm guessing she's implying because I'm attracted to her, I have ulterior motives—but I don't. Gods, no, I don't, but I do want to make a good impression either way.

"I don't look my age. No, I look like a fool," I mumble darkly under my breath. I squint at the hazy reflection of myself on the black TV screen. "This is also rather…uncomfortable." I tug at the tightly buttoned-up, clean white dress shirt, fixed neatly with a solid black tie. On top lays a simple unbuttoned black vest.

"Don' ya usually wear that shirt and tie whatever, though?" Shirazu yawns loudly, mouth stretching open to impossible lengths, and shifts positions on the couch.

"Er—yeah," I answer lamely, "but I'm just not used to this weird material for my dress shirts, let alone these tight jeans (they're riding up on me, too)."

"Come on," Saiko sighs tiredly. She clicks the small lock button on her iphone and sits up on the couch. "You look great, and you totally look your age. Remember, you're only 22 (and, hey, those skinny jeans are a Saiko-favorite)."

"Okay, note taken," I admit, "but I've worn skinny jeans before, and these are unnaturally tight—"

"Please. I'll come out of my room more often if you wear them just for today." She stares at me straight in the eye, and her expression goes intensely serious, yet desperately pleading.

"Alright" is all I can spit out. My voice comes out tighter than intended. It's been a while since she's been so motivated, per se. I suppose it would be a good idea to fulfill her wishes, considering she's not getting anywhere sitting in her room.

My gaze goes toward my reflection again.

"…Guys—"

"Sassan, yer fuckin' beautiful. Good?" Shirazu glares at me and then roughly throws the blanket over his head and body. "You've been doin' this all morning an' I wanna sleep."

"But—"

"Maman, if you don't realize how nice you look this instant…!"

"Okay, okay!"

. . .

"Kirishima-san?"

I walk in at the prompted time, expecting her small figure behind the counter, perhaps having a morning coffee. I'm right. My lips subconsciously smile at the mug in her hands—the one I specifically gave to her. A shiver of odd warmth prickles my skin.

"Good morning, Sasaki-san." She takes a small sip before setting it down with a soft clink. Her smile flashes briefly.

"Good morning," I breathe. "Sorry I'm late. I…lost track of time," I laugh uncomfortably. I couldn't possibly say I was late because I was too busy fussing over my appearance. My skin feels too tight for my body, as do the clothes.

"It's fine, it's only been ten minutes." She tiptoes out from behind the counter. "You're not late at all, really." She steps out into the clearing of tables and chairs, walking towards me. Only now do I see her attire changed, but of course it did. After all, it is a date—I mean—no, I'm done trying to correct my irritating thoughts.

A long, baggy burgundy shirt with thin white stripes hangs loosely off her figure, and her neck adorns a simple beige scarf. A modest, knee-length skirt frames her legs. I raise my gaze and see her lips were stained a gentle poppy red. I open my mouth to say something and silence comes out.

She's—

"Lovely," I say. "You look lovely," and I don't re-correct myself. There's nothing to correct in a truth, after all.

Surprise forces her mouth and eyes wide and her cheeks flush a light red. She blinks and bites her lower lip. The early surprise is gone, but the blush isn't. A smile creeps up my lips, and I don't—or rather, I can't—force it back down.

"Thank you," she says, and I'm disappointed to hear her sound so composed. "I don't know if I look that nice, compared to you." My confident smile crumbles, and she triumphantly notices this. She says nothing, but her eyes speak for her.

"I—I wouldn't say that. I don't even think I look good," I admit bashfully and fiddle with the cuffs of my coat.

"Stop worrying," she insists. It may be and probably is just my imagination, but I can't shake off the feeling of a certain difference about her. "I didn't worry much about my appearance myself."

"Is that so?" A lightbulb goes off in my head. "Your make-up tells me otherwise." A corner of her mouth dips down and I stifle a laugh.

"Honestly," she huffs. "Were you staring at my face?"

"Well…" I hurriedly search for something to say, "Would there be a reason I wouldn't meet the eyes of a person I'm talking to?" My smile widens so much my cheeks ache.

"Smartass," she groaned quietly. I think I can see what's so different. It's her actual, real personality surfacing, instead of her hunky-dory waitress façade. And—

I like it.

"Crap, I'm sorry," she says quickly, her eyes widening. "I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, I really do like you like that. It seems more real." I wink. She relaxes. "Shall we get going, milady?" I hold out my hand for her to take, but she glances at it and shoos it away. I force a sad sigh back down my throat.

"Sure. Where're you taking me, anyway?"

"Well, would you mind a—"

. . .

"…This is your idea of a dating spot?"

"Er, yes? …Don't tell me it's that lame, please." Her eyes are written with disbelief as they glance upward at the front sign, The Drowsy Poet. "Well, since there were books in :re, I thought maybe a bookstore would be okay, um—"

"Some things never change, it seems…"

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing. Well, since we're here, we may as well get inside, right?"

"R—Right."

She insists that it isn't a problem, but the guilt isn't going away. Saiko warned me that she may not like books, and while it doesn't entirely seem that way, I'm still wary of my decision. At the same time, I'm trying to get over the fact she said this was a "dating spot". I thought I was the only one thinking that.

"Sasaki-san?" she says as I close the door behind us. A rush of warm air hits my frozen face.

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Do you read—Tatatsuki Sen?"

"How did you know?" I grin cheekily. I wish I knew there was a way to get for her to relax, for she's so unreasonably tense. "Why, do you read his books, too?"

"Yeah, actually. An old friend of mine introduced me," she murmurs faintly. Her eyes go cloudy. "I was wondering if you read his book 'The Black Goat's Egg'." We absentmindedly drift over to the horror section, where a certain author's books sit on the shelves.

"No, I haven't," I reply. "Is it good? Maybe I'll buy it." I observe her squinting at the dark spines of Tatatsuki Sen's books and plucking one out of the array. "Is that it?"

"Mhm," I confirm. She suddenly plops the book into my hands without warning, so I fumble it around until I get a proper grip on it. "Out of all her books, that one's my favorite. I'm surprised you haven't read it, since you sound like an avid fan."

"Well, now I will," I point out with a second's smile. "May I also recommend you a book?"

"Sure," she shrugs, but does so stiffly. "And what would that book be?"

"Follow me." I hold out my hand again, but as expected, she refuses to take it. With a sigh, I start walking, and she tags along behind me. We loop around the towers of bookshelves, quiet artists with perceptive, sharp glasses, books splayed on the floor (which I resist the urge to pick up and shelve), and reach the aisle I was looking for.

"Ro—Romance?" She echoes, looking at the sign on the bookshelf. "Sasaki-san, I really don't like—"

"Me neither," I admit, "but there's one book, or should I say one author, that I will read from this genre. Have you heard of John Green?"

"Obviously," she says in an instant, "but I didn't expect you to read books for teenage girls." I see an after image of a humored expression.

"I'm sure you won't be saying that after you read this," I scoff. "Besides, this is a young adult book, and it's great. Who said only girls could read romance, anyway? Like I said, I generally don't like romance, but I enjoyed this." The bright blue of the smooth spine pops out to me immediately, and I smoothly pull out the book.

"The…Fault in Our Stars," she reads slowly off the blue cover. I press it gently into her hands. "You cannot be serious. This book is just—"

"Have you read it?"

"…No," she admits after a while.

"Then, you should read it. It's wonderful," I sigh contentedly. "I was this close to sobbing all over my copy. But, I have to keep a proper image in front of the others." She snorts. "Hey, it's a good book, so don't come crying to me when you finish it. …No, actually, when you finish it, I would love to talk to you about it, so forget I just said that. Anyway, like I said, it's a good book. It's most certainly romance, but it's obviously so much more than that. Just—just read it. I'm not getting anywhere blabbing away here."

"Yeah, you're not," she agrees so bluntly it hurts. "You really love books, don't you? You rambled."

"Ah, did I?" I laugh awkwardly. "Sorry about that. I just, yeah, love books." I look up at her, and this small smile hangs off her mouth. I meet her gaze and her smile falls off. Damn it. "Well, if I can have that book back, I'll go ahead and pay for us—"

"Us?"

"Yeah, us. You didn't think I would let you pay—hey!" She snatched The Black Goat's Egg right out of my hand and sprinted off! "Kirishima-san!" I run quietly after her, trying my best to keep my feet's impact soft. "Kirishima-san!"

I find her hurriedly giving the two books to the male cashier at the front, and just before she hands the money to him, I wrestle my through and swat her hand away with my own money.

"Sasaki-san, just let me pay!" she snaps irritably. She angrily slaps my hand away and tries to push me back with her (painfully bony) elbows, but I forcefully lean my body weight across the counter and practically smash my money into the cashier's hand. The cashier laughs softly, shakes his head, and takes my money.

"Here's your change and books, sir," the cashier says pleasantly. I thank him, ignoring Kirishima-san's annoyed rambling, and turn to face her.

"You should've just let me pay," she groans heatedly. Her cheeks have tinged pink. I smirk and shake my head.

"Nonsense. I invited you, so naturally, I should pay. Is that how it usually works?" I smile. She narrows her eyes at me and rolls her eyes. I can't resist from letting a snicker pass through my lips. I take the romance book and wedge it between her hands. She shoves it into her bag.

"Okay," she sighs. "Now that that's over—let me take you somewhere."

"Are you sure? I mean, this is my treat."

"Your treat, my treat, whoever's treat, I don't care. It's not like you had anywhere else planned after this."

"A—Ah, how did you—"

"I had a premonition." I see a faint flicker of a smile, like an almost-dead lightbulb. "Let's go."

"But where is it?"

She blinks in surprise. "It's not like I knew where you were taking me when we left. I just…trusted you. So do you…" Trust me?

"Yes," I say, and it feels just right.

. . .

"Kirishima-san?"

"What is it?"

"I...don't know how to ice-skate."

To think that I had hope is laughable.

Perhaps I should've expected it. As a matter a fact, I really should have. I recognized the bustling area, and the chill air made it perfect for the occasion.

It's an outdoor skating rink.

However, I still don't know how to ice skate, and I'm going to make a fool out of myself.

If it was anyone else, I'm certain I would've been a little more comfortable about failing to ice skate in front of their eyes and the general public. However, because it's her, it's next to impossible for me to relax. Her presence makes my nerves jump at the brush of a strand of hair.

"Cool it, you'll be fine." Kirishima-san walks back to me and gently drops a pair of red skates at my feet. They topple over with a heavy thunk. Over my shoulder, I glance past the open gates into the rink, full of chattering families and friends. "If you're really that worried, we can do this another time."

"No," I answer back immediately. "Besides, you already paid for the skates." …Wait. "…Damn, you already paid for the skates," I realize bitterly. "Here, let me pay you back—" My hand goes to my back pocket for my wallet, but she stops me.

"Honestly, just let me spend my own money," she rolls her eyes sarcastically. "It was cheap, anyway."

"Alright," I reply weakly. I sit down, lean against the wall, and wiggle my bare feet into the skis. She grabs one of the lonely chairs and sits down, doing the same.

"Have you never ice-skated before?" She asks curiously. She ties the last knot on her skis.

"I have," I argue, "but I happen to be very bad at it. I can't even keep my balance—hey, what's that look for?"

"Hah, I just find it kind of ironic, since you were the one who taught me how to—" All the color drains visibly from her face. "I mean, my friend—he taught me. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," I say, and it's a lie. "Is this the same friend who likes Tatatsuki Sen?"

For some reason, her eyes grow darkly bitter, like black coffee. "Yes, that's him. Anyway, you do know how to at least get them on, right?" I decide it's a bad time to point out the swift change of subject.

"Of course," I say indignantly, even though I don't entirely know exactly. I start tying the laces.

Halfway through, she says, "Sasaki-san, let me do it. It's going through the wrong loops."

"Really?" I bite out. "Uh, it's fine, you can just—tell me how to—" Protesting is futile, so I let her tie up my skates. "...I'm sorry." This is pathetic.

"Don't be," she replies. "Done." My feet feel like bricks, clunky and heavy. "Can you walk?" Am I expected to walk and balance on these single blades? Sadly, I think yes. I grip my chair tightly, and push myself up. I teeter for a split second, but I regain my balance.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I exhale in relief. In the corner of my eye, I catch a group of kids practically sprinting in their skates. "This is probably as far as I'll get," I laugh lamely.

"Nonsense," she huffs. "Skating is easy. You'll get it right away. You're an investigator, aren't you? You've been in worse situations."

"Yeah, that's true, but—"

"Let's get going," she interrupts. She takes the lead, walking easily while I waddle awkwardly behind her. She takes a glance back, makes a face, and her shoulders start shaking.

"Please stop laughing," I say weakly. Little by little, my dignity crumbles. "Are we there yet?" Her laughs are noticeably muffled, as if she's trying to stifle the noise.

"Y—Yes," she gasps after a moment. She turns to face me, and she has one last laugh. I believe this is the first time I've ever seen her laugh so freely and deeply.

"Get ready." She pushes the gate out, and the rusty metal hinges squeak tiredly. The cold gets colder, and it washes over my face unpleasantly. Kirishima-san steps on first, and the way she keeps her balance is unnatural. I follow suit and set my foot on the ice, and I already feel myself slipping.

"Kirishima-san—help, help—" I choke out, and she grips my flailing hands and tugs my on. I exhale in relief and to cool my nerves. "...I'm sorry!" I cry.

"Would you stop apologizing?" she says exasperatedly. "You're fine." My grip subconsciously tightens as she swiftly pulls me up. She's unexpectedly strong.

"Okay," I reply meekly. As I try to loosen my probably painful iron grip on her hand, I realize, "Hey, we're holding hands."

She chokes, tears her hand away from me, and I yelp. My ankles shake and I swear the ice itself is moving and my arms flail to grip for something and—

"Ugh," I moan as get myself off the slippery ice. "That was unexpected."

"I was just helping you balance, and that's all it'll be," she states more coldly than the ice. She extends her hand. I smirk knowingly, but say nothing when I take it. "Let's go, you're not gonna learn standing still." I make sure my grip on her hand is firm. If I let go again—

I would mostly definitely fall again, which I have to say was embarrassing.

It would be difficult to find another chance to hold her hand again.

"Don't rush it. Relax." She skates smoothly next to me, her grip still reassuring on my hand. I can feel my legs shaking, and it's not just because of the cold temperature. I breathe, and I can see my breath.

"Yeah," I choke out. Even with her hand, I find my other hand desperately gripping the wall.

I really am not in the mood to fall right now.

"Relax, Sasaki-san," she repeats. "Relax."

"Yep, relax, relax," I mumble to myself. "Relax, right? Relaxing."

"…Should we stop?"

"No, we just started!"

"But you like you're going to piss yourself."

"That's because I don't know. How to ice skate," I finish, "and that's why you have to teach me." Her lips twitch upward.

"Fine then, if you insist. Now, hold on tight."

My other hand finds her other, and she holds me by both hands as I skate. She stands in front of me, telling me how to angle my feet and move my legs. Then, I fall again, and when she worryingly comes to get me up, I finally notice other's amused stares. After that, our grips on each other's hands are even tighter.

When I let go of her hands, I yearn for her hands again, but it gives me freedom to glide swiftly side by side with her. I cook up a quick chat, and it transforms into a long, winded conversation about pleasant, random things. The weather, favorite seasons, the best way to have coffee, Tatatsuki Sen's books, our jobs, and our life.

It's wonderful.

I tell a few puns, and she laughs and cringes at the same time. Then, we pass around compliments, which I'm sure is otherwise known as mature flirting, and I think I like it.

"Kirishima-san, what's your family like?" I ask suddenly. The movement in my legs is practically robotic. "I would love to meet them."

"I—I have a younger brother," she speaks. "He lives on his own in America, so...he's not here. My parents died from a chronic illness when we were young, so we were adopted by our grandparents, who also recently passed away due to age," she spits out all at once. For such a simple question, she's surprisingly flustered.

"Oh. I'm sorry for asking such a rude question."

"It's okay, you didn't know."

A certain awkwardness settles in, and I want to say something, but there's nothing to say.

"Touka-chan! Is that you?"

Kirishima-san's head whirls around, looking for the person who called out. I look around, too, and I find a girl with a short bob-cut and blunt bangs.

"Yoriko-chan?" Kirishima-san calls out. "One second," she says to me, and then she glides away. They exchange a brief hug, and her friend smiles so brightly I fear for my eyesight.

Kirishima-san's shoulders look tense, but she soon relaxes. The light weight of her smile and the softness in her eyes tells me this Yoriko is precious to her.

Kirishima-san waves her hand at me to come over, so I promptly skate to them.

"Hey, aren't you that dude I met in her apartment?" Her friend, who I assume to be named Yoriko. She cocks her head to the side.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we've ever met," I reply rigidly. I've…never seen her else. How would she…?

"Maybe it was someone else, Yoriko-chan," Kirishima-san answers nervously. I know she's just fidgety because of the cold, because the skating should've warmed her up.

"Yeah, maybe," Yoriko sighs regretfully. "Where is that guy, anyway—"

"Hey, let's worry about that later, okay? Sasaki-san, could you introduce yourself?"

"Of course," I comply. "I'm Sasaki Haise. Nice to meet you, ah…?"

"Kosaka Yoriko," she supplies with a bright smile. "Nice to meet you too, Sasaki-san! Are you dating Touka-chan?"

"Yoriko-chan!" Kirishima-san yells, her face bursting a vibrant pink. I feel my face turn just as dark, if not entirely red. How could she just ask that…?

"No, not yet," I mumble to myself. Kosaka-san smirks widely, and lightly elbows Kirishima-san, who looks about ready to die. "I mean—no, we're not, we're just friends." I refuse to believe I let myself slip up so badly.

"Hey," Kosaka-san whispers not-so-softly in Kirishima-san's ear. I can hear her just fine. "He totally has the hots for you, and can I say he looks pretty fine? Touka-chan, you really hit the jackpot this time."

Kirishima-san does a better job of whispering angrily back to her friend, and she keeps glancing back to me. I-I'm flattered by her friend's compliment, really, but at the moment, I'm focusing on how to not faint from overheating.

"Thank you?" I squeak out uncertainly. My hand subconsciously scratches the back of my head, and I force it down. "I don't know if I would say I had 'the hots' for her—"

"Are you saying she's unattractive?!" Kosaka-san gasps. She smacks her hand over her chest, seemingly highly offended. "I cannot believe—Touka-chan is, well, pretty much the prettiest girl ever. Do you have any idea how many times she was asked out at school? Dang, some of those guys were pretty good looking, too!"

"Yoriko-chan."

"Oh, I wasn't saying that at all." My mouth moves without thought. "On the contrary, pretty isn't enough to describe it. She's beautiful." Kirishima-san inhales sharply, and her face turns a dark red-pink.

Crap. "I—I mean—no, I do think that, but I didn't mean to say—I'm sorry," I say finally, and I feel heat staining my cheeks, so I look down.

"Gosh, Sasaki-san, I'm happy that you show such an interest in Touka-chan, especially since you seem like such a good guy," Kosaka-san laughs. She claps a hand on my back, and her slap stings. "Well, I'm here with family, so I'll be going. Bye, guys! And, Sasaki-san?" She grins widely. "Take good care of her, okay? Bye!"

"Ko-Kosaka-san, wait!"

She's gone.

I only hear the hard scratching of blades against ice and bubbly conversation. The cold air rushes around my burning ears. The aftershock sinks in and I let out a strangled noise.

"I—I'm sorry, that was—"

"No," she interrupts. "Don't apologize." A smile creeps up her lips. Her smile expands, shines, and her eyes turn into endless constellations on a starry night. I freeze and let it all sink in. All sound compresses and then dispels, only leaving silence behind. I open my mouth, and words form in my mind, and I—

"Hey! Don't stand in the middle of the rink!" An employee says. We snap out of our reverie, nod, and get back on track.

. . .

When we reached the café, where I learned her apartment was in, the lamps shined like stars.

"Hey, Kirishima-san?" I say when she shuffles to a stop before the front door. "Thank you for…coming with me. It's been a while since I've enjoyed myself that much." To my surprise, the words don't feel forced at all. A certain heavy weight begins deflating inside of me.

"Same here," she agrees. "Will you read the book I recommended?"

"As long as you read yours," I laugh. She makes an irritated face, but nods nonetheless.

"Tell me what you think about the book next time," I suggest. I shift my weight onto one leg, since my feet ache numbly.

"Next time?" she repeats slowly and raises a suspicious eyebrow.

"Yeah," I breathe. "Just one time isn't enough, don't you think?" I watch her facial expression tense up, and then relax.

"Greedy," she mutters under her breath and her glance flickers to the ground, "but...yeah. It's not enough." She blinks.

"So, there will be another date, right?" I ask. I internally panic when I realize I've used the wrong term again, but I stop myself from amending my words, because it doesn't seem so wrong anymore.

"Depends." There's a split second smirk. "Depends on whether you would ask again."

"Is that so?" I smile. "Then we'll be meeting up a lot, Kirishima-san."

"Don't get your hopes up," she says quickly. "I never said whether I was free or not."

"Me neither, but I'd make time if I had to." She smiles tiredly, and I bite my tongue to resist a yawn. "I had a lot of fun today. So, I really do hope we can do this again."

"Buy maybe ten more coffees and I'll consider it," she says sarcastically. Or perhaps seriously—it's hard to tell. Laughter bubbles and rises.

"Well, I'll…see you later, then?" My heart takes a somersault.

"Yeah. Good night, Sasaki-san." She smiles softly.

"Good night, Kirishima-san."

She closes the door, and I wonder.

How could heaven be better than this?

AN: It's really fucking late and I'm tired. This turned out also really damn long, but I did it. For the team. For you guys. Also it kinda turned out that way. Man, I'm sorry, I am just so wasted right now after skyping, minecraft, and fanfiction.

Also apologies for the late update, it kept slipping my mind.

Tell me what you thought about the date and if it was enjoyable to read, because I can't write dates, ahaha. I have NO experience. Well, I'd like it if you just left a little something about what you thought. ^w^

Thank you so much for reading, lovelies! I'll see you later in a week with another update! 3