𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐓 | OIKAWA TOORU [UNDER CONSTRUCTION!]

⁰² ‧₊˚✧ FIRST DATE

YOU SEE T LEANING AGAINST A BRICK WALL and scrolling on his phone. He isn't wearing his glasses from yesterday. His hair is slightly gelled back, and he sports on a tight-fitting dress shirt and jeans. T is attractive enough to be a model, making the scene look like a page ripped out of a magazine. On the other side of the street, you notice girls pointing at him and checking him out. He's apparently a hot commodity.

Applying a final coat of lip gloss and patting down your dress, you walk over to him.

"Sorry, did you wait long?" you ask, waving. T looks up from his phone and grins at you.

"Not at all," he replies coolly, "You look beautiful today, Y/N."

He slides his phone into his pocket and places his hand on your head. You trace a line down the side of your face to signify a tear.

"And I didn't look beautiful yesterday?" you ask. At first, T is taken aback, but he quickly recomposes himself. You stifle a giggle. Shaking his head, he purses his lips together and pouts, "I just wanted to remind you of how beautiful you are. Shall we go, m'lady?"

Inching closer to you, he smirks and holds out his hand. You stare at him, clutching onto the strap of your handbag. You've never done something like this, but it's somehow exhilarating. Plastering on your best poker face, you take him up on his offer.

"We shall."

As your fingers intertwine, he softly squeezes your hand. His palm is large and comforting. Your cheeks flush at the thought, but you do your best to hide the redness on your face with your hair. T begins with some small talk, and you find yourself chatting away with him about the restaurant that he's taking you to. On your way there, you steal a glimpse at him. He's easy to talk to, and you can tell that he's experienced, that he's done this countless of times before. You don't mind it, though. You convince yourself that today's a one-time thing, and you're not going to pry into his past. Like Cinderella, the fantasy will be over once the clock strikes midnight; he'll simply become a stranger to you.

You two enter the restaurant. It's small and cozy. Jazz music softly plays in the background. The lighting is dim, and the checkered floors are worn out. You can smell something delicious coming from the kitchen and wafting into your nose. It's a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but you like it. A hearty and boisterous man greets you, and he ushers you to a booth with window seats. You thank him and sit down, but T slides next to you.

"I don't understand why couples sit on the same side of the booth," you admit, scooting away from him, "Also, no offense, dude, but we don't really know each other. Isn't this awkward?"

"...Did you just dude-zone me?"

"That's what you took from what I said?"

"Yes! How could you say that to me?"