𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒍𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 | 𝑫𝒂𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒌𝒆 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

₊· ͟͟͞͞ ➳Date Night

A week had passed in the blink of an eye. You woke up to an empty bed, the lingering scent of Daisuke's cologne still clinging to the sheets and your skin.

The distant sounds of sizzling and the faint aroma of breakfast filled the air—he was up early, cooking as usual. Stretching your limbs, you sat up with a yawn before dragging yourself toward the attached bathroom.

The moment you stepped inside, your eyes landed on the toilet seat—left up. Again.

"Really, Daisuke? Oh my God,"
you muttered under your breath, shaking your head as you slammed it shut.

Sighing, you moved on with your morning routine, making your way to the sink. The contrast between your neatly organized side and Daisuke's slightly cluttered mess was comical. His cologne bottle sat uncapped,
a stray toothbrush cap had rolled to the edge, and his hairbrush was half-buried under a towel.

Ignoring the minor chaos, you reached for your toothbrush, removing the cover before brushing your teeth, stealing a glance at his own toothbrush sitting right beside yours.
It was a small, unspoken reminder of how intertwined your lives had become.

...

Stepping into the kitchen, you were greeted by the smell of fresh pancakes and the sight of Daisuke at the stove, flipping them with ease.
He wore a black apron that read Kiss the Chef, and despite it being early as hell, he looked way too put together for someone who just rolled out of bed.

"Morning,"
you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep as you trudged toward the counter.

His head perked up, a lazy grin spreading across his face.
"Good morning."

His gaze flickered over you before he added,
"You look good."

You snorted, glancing down at yourself—wrinkled pajamas, messy-ass hair, and the undeniable grogginess still clinging to your face.
"I look like absolute shit."

Daisuke just laughed, unfazed.
"Nah, you're always hot,"
he said smoothly, flipping the last pancake onto a plate.

You rolled your eyes but grabbed a fork as he slid a plate in front of you.

"Eat up,"
he said, leaning against the counter. "We've got a date planned tonight, and I can't have you going on it all grumpy and starving."

"I don't get grumpy."

Daisuke raised a brow.

"Okay, maybe a little."
You huffed.
He just smirked, knowing damn well he was right.

As you dug into your pancakes, the conversation flowed easily between bites—random shit, from the ridiculous dream you had last night to debating whether cereal counted as soup.
But eventually, your mind drifted to something else.

"You ever thought about doing an art exhibition?"
You set your fork down, glancing at him.

"I mean, you've got talent. It's not just me saying that. You could actually put your art out there, y'know?
Do a small exhibition, see how it goes."

He scoffed, shaking his head.
"Yeah, right. No one wants to see my shit."

"That's bullshit and you know it."
You frowned.
Daisuke sighed, rubbing
the back of his neck.