Knowing Kentaro, you knew not to expect flowers and candlelight. But still, in his own headstrong way, he made an effort. It wasn't extravagant. If anything, all your planned dates are stubbornly simple, but you grew to like the simplicity of it all. As long as it was with each other, neither of you minded. Time together is all the mattered. When you first started dating, you were lucking to get more than two sentences out of him. Not great with his words, yes, but he always showed up.

He walks you home after classes even if it meant taking the long route. He never lets go once your hand is in his, sits next to you at lunch. You just talk and talk, and though he's only looking at you from the side, his ears are catching every word you say. So that day when you asked if he wanted to have a proper date night at your place? He said yes, no hesitation.

He shows up on your doorstep minutes earlier than decided, knocking with the side of his fist like he's impatient to see you. When you open up, your eye catches the plastic bag he's holding. Two packs of instant noodles, a large bottle of iced tea, and a little tray of seaweed. He raises an eyebrow when you try not to laugh.

You let him think that that's what you two will be eating for the night, until he gets up to ask for hot water for the noodles. You take him by the hands and steer him into the kitchen. He groans like you've asked him to climb a mountain barefoot. Cooking, according to him, involves too many steps. You, on the other hand, think it's time he learned what real food is like, food that doesn't just require water and a microwave.

To his credit, he doesn't argue much once you start giving him tasks. He lightly complains, mutters under his breath when the onions your cutting makes his eyes sting, and hisses when oil opps too close to his hand, but he still listens. More than that. So focused when you're giving him instructions, guiding him through slicing vegetables. And when you praise him for cutting them evenly, his ears turn pink.

By the time the food's ready, the kitchen is kind of a mess despite the two of you trying to clean as you go. But the food is done, smells amazing, and you're both a little breathless. He eats with the appetite of a man starved. You lean back, triumphant, as he leans forward to scoop more out of the pot sitting on a cork in the middle of the table.

"I still think noodles are faster." He says, literally right after clearing his third plate. "But that wasn't that bad. Food's real good," He finally admits, cracking open his bottle of iced tea that he brought now that everything else is gone, the instant noodles long forgotten. "And I couldn't say no to that face. Maybe we can do this again."