Your phone buzzed in your hand as you lay sprawled across your bed. Keigo had the day off, and for once, so did you. It started with a simple good morning text from him—“You up, sleepyhead?”—and somehow turned into an endless string of sweet, teasing messages.

He kept sending you dumb selfies with captions like “Rate my bored face, 1 to 10” and you’d send him yours back, cheeks a little warmer than you’d admit. Somewhere between the jokes and the emojis, the conversation softened into something quieter, something sweeter.

“You know,” he texted, “days off feel weird when you’re not around.”

You smiled at your screen, tapping back, “Cheesy.”

His reply came fast. “Yeah, but true. I was thinking… remember how I asked you out the first time? Just straight up, no planning, just me showing up?”

You bit your lip, remembering it vividly—the nervous excitement, his grin when you said yes. “Of course I remember.”

“Well,” his typing bubble popped up again, “how about we do it again? A restart, but better.”

You tilted your head, thumbs hovering. “Better?”

Before you could type more, there was a knock at your door.

Confused, you padded over and pulled it open—only to see Keigo standing there, leaning casually against the frame like he’d been waiting for this moment all day. He wasn’t in his usual uniform, but in a casual-formal fit that made your heart skip: a fitted jacket, rolled-up sleeves, his hair brushed a little neater than usual.

His eyes swept over you, lingering for a moment on the ink curling along your arms, visible since you were only in a loose tee. His smile softened. “Damn,” he breathed out, teasing but sincere, “you really make me look underdressed.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin tugging at your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, stepping closer, his voice dropping softer, “but I’m your ridiculous. So, what do you say? Wanna go out with me… again?”