Date

Y/n didn’t bother checking the time anymore. There wasn’t a point. After two years, he knew Asa well enough to predict exactly how this would go. He was waiting for her at the cafe since she said she can make her own way and he can come here straight after work.

You see Y/n had planned a small date at a nice cafe they know and after work he had spare clothes he had prepared before going to work and just changed in his car. She messaged that she was on her way. I checked her location 5 minutes later…It was still at the apartment. But still he thought "We will be on time.” He was wrong. 

A couple minutes later he did see that she had left the apartment. 

(So all good. Right?............Anyways.)

She wouldn’t be late, not really. Just a few minutes behind schedule, just enough to make an entrance feel intentional. 

And right on cue, he saw her. She walked toward him like she had nowhere else to be, her pace unhurried, her expression calm. But he noticed the small things, the way she smoothed her sleeve once, the way her eyes flicked toward him before she fully looked. 

“You’ve been waiting long?” she asked, stopping just in front of him. 

“Not really,” he said. “Just long enough to figure out you changed outfits at least twice.” 

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s an assumption.” 

“It’s an educated guess.” 

“…And?” she asked, tilting her head. 

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at her properly, taking his time, like he always did, like he knew she’d pretend not to care but notice anyway. “And it paid off.” 

A quiet hum escaped her. “Good.” There it was, that small, satisfied look she always got when she felt seen without having to ask for it.

“You weren’t nervous, were you?” he added lightly. 

She scoffed. “We’ve been dating for two years.” 

“Doesn’t mean you don’t try.” 

“…I always try,” she said, softer this time. 

“I know.” That lingered for a second, not awkward, not heavy. Just something unspoken, something comfortable. 

Then she turned, pushing open the café door. “Come on. I’m thirsty.”  

Inside, the café felt warm and steady, filled with quiet conversations and the low hum of background music. It was the kind of place they’d been to a dozen times before, and that familiarity made everything easier. 

They slid into a booth without needing to decide who sat where. It just happened. Asa leaned forward slightly, her elbow resting on the table, chin in her hand. “You’re staring again.” 

“I never stopped.” 

“You used to at least pretend to be subtle.” 

“I gave that up.” 

“When?” 

“When I realized you noticed either way.” 

She paused. “…I don’t mind it,” she said, choosing her words carefully. 

“That’s not what you said.” 

“That's what I meant.” 

“Sure.” She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re getting too comfortable,” she said. 

“I’ve been comfortable.” 

“Too comfortable.” 

“You haven’t left yet.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t argue. “…You’re lucky,” she said instead. 

“I know.”  When their drinks arrived, conversation drifted naturally. 

They talked about small things, things that didn’t really matter but felt important in the moment. 

A University class Asa had been annoyed with. 

Something Y/n had found funny earlier in the day. 

A random memory that spiraled into another. 

At one point, Asa reached across the table without warning and adjusted his sleeve. “You didn’t fix this properly,” she muttered. 

He hummed “I noticed.” 

“Then why didn’t you fix it?” 

“I knew you would.” 

She froze for a second, then looked up at him. “…You did that on purpose.” She just looked at me, “You’re a grown man.” 

He shrugged “Maybe.” 

“That’s manipulative.” 

“You fixed it, didn’t you?” 

She let go with a quiet huff, leaning back again. “You’re annoying.” 

“You’ve said that.” 

“I’ll keep saying it.” She argued back.