Next morning, I woke up early, but something was nagging at me. I couldn't put my finger on it, yet my mind was full of thoughts, twisting and turning like they always did. Every promise she made, every word she said—I knew there was a chance it would all be meaningless in the end. And still… I didn't let it show. I shoved the unease aside, focusing on the day ahead.
The date was fixed for 10 a.m., the place—maybe a café. I spent the early hours scrolling on my phone, avoiding the storm in my head. When the clock struck 8:30, I called Leo. Our houses were literally next to each other, but laziness has a way of making even short walks feel like Everest.
Leo arrived in minutes, a grin on his face as he dressed me, gave me some money, and passed on his "wisdom." First dates, he said, were all about comfort and observation. He didn't say it, but I knew him well enough to understand the unspoken: "Don't mess this up."
I left the house twenty minutes early. The streets were quieter than usual, and I noticed every detail—the tilt of the lampposts, the way sunlight fell through leaves, even the smell of coffee wafting from cafés I didn't yet enter. My brain, as always, cataloged everything. That's how I cope, I guess.
She arrived at 10:05, exactly on time. Shizu. She looked… different somehow. Not in a bad way—just softer, somehow. And yet there was something in her eyes, almost mischievous, that hinted at secrets kept just for herself.
The café was small but cozy, the kind with warm wooden furniture and gentle light spilling from hanging bulbs. We ordered, and while we waited, she leaned slightly closer. It was subtle, almost nothing, but my mind noticed every twitch, every flicker of her gaze. She watched me with an intensity that made my skin tingle, though I kept my expression neutral. My psychology told me: she's observing me too, probably analyzing every move.
Then she did something I wasn't expecting.
"I… I got you something."
I froze slightly. Gifts were foreign to me. My buddies never gave me gifts either—not because they didn't care, but because our bond was never about presents. It was about fun, about enjoying each other's company without thinking of obligations. And yet here she was, holding out a small, wrapped package. My inner child, the part of me that I usually keep buried under walls of reason and cynicism, felt an unfamiliar flutter of happiness.
It was my favorite anime character. Luffy. My hands trembled slightly as I took it, and I could hear my own thoughts screaming in delight. She leaned closer, voice soft but edged with that subtle intensity, "I hope you like it… I really want you to."
I nodded. "Yeah… it's perfect."
After that, we wandered the streets a bit, window shopping. At one little store, I picked up a simple hair clip and handed it to her. Her eyes lit up in a way that made something ache in my chest—warm, fleeting, slightly possessive. "I… I like it," she said, pressing it gently into her hair. She didn't let go for a moment longer than necessary, her gaze lingering on mine like she was measuring my reaction.
We continued walking, the sun warm on our backs. Every time she brushed against me, her hand or elbow accidentally, it wasn't accidental at all. She smiled softly when I noticed, and I cataloged everything—each glance, each brush of contact, each small laugh. She noticed, I noticed—an unspoken loop of attention and observation.
Back in the café, the moment came. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I… I don't want to lose you," she said, her fingers gripping the edge of the table just enough to show she was serious. There was a subtle intensity in her eyes, a yandere-like possessiveness, soft yet unnerving. Not threatening—but enough to make me realize she truly cared, maybe a little too much. My heart didn't jump, but my brain cataloged it all—the way she said it, her gaze, the small tremor in her voice.
Time passed faster than I realized. The date stretched longer, winding through streets, shops, and finally back to the café to sit a little longer. Every gesture, every shared glance felt like a scene lifted straight out of a slice-of-life anime. She asked questions, lightly teasing me about trivial things, but there was that underlying intensity—something that hinted she cared deeply, maybe obsessively.
As we prepared to leave, she asked casually, "Do you use Instagram?"
I froze. Social media was sacred territory, one I never shared with anyone except my closest friends. "I don't," I said automatically, unsure how she even knew.
Her eyes flicked to mine, a small smirk on her lips. "Leo told me," she said lightly.
Shock. Confusion. A mixture of emotions swirled inside me. Leo had let this slip? And yet… she hadn't overstepped. She simply asked. I handed over my handle, and she saved it, her smile soft and knowing.
The ride back home was quiet, but in a comfortable, heavy way. I noticed the sunlight catching her hair, the subtle rhythm of her breathing, the faint scent of her perfume lingering long after I stepped into my room.
Alone, I unpacked the gift, holding Luffy in my hands. A simple gesture, yet monumental. The day had been full of laughter, surprises, quiet shocks, and small touches. My psychology observed every nuance, storing each moment like data to be processed later.
I sat back in my chair, reflecting. It's true what they say—the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And yet, for the first time in a long while, I felt… something I hadn't before. Happiness, fleeting but real, touched by the subtle pain of knowing how fragile these moments could be.
A notification popped up on my phone—it was Leo.
"So? How was the date? Don't tell me you didn't notice anything obvious."
I smirked a little, typing back. "It was… good. Surprising."
Within minutes, our group chat lit up with my buddies, teasing me in their usual way. They didn't give gifts, they didn't make a fuss—but somehow, their presence felt like a shield. Their messages were chaotic, funny, relentless—and I realized that even after something as unusual as today, my world was still grounded.
Leo texted again, sending a laughing emoji and a thumbs-up. "I knew you'd notice. That's why I helped. Don't mess it up."
I set my phone down, looking at Luffy in my hands. A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips—not one I showed often, but one I felt internally. Today had been strange, unexpected, and bittersweet… but it had been mine.
Later, as I went outside, my buddies were waiting nearby, teasing me about the "mission accomplished." Leo winked, nudging me, "See? Told you you'd notice the signs. Just… don't freak out." I chuckled internally. Their presence grounded me, reminding me that even with the subtle chaos of today, I wasn't alone.
The memory of the date lingered, soft and sharp at the same time. A gift, a confession, quiet touches, playful teasing, and the steady presence of my friends—the tapestry of the day, woven together, fragile yet beautiful, like the threads of a story I was just beginning to live.
---