Blade's hands tightened around the leather steering wheel of his car, his gaze flitting up to the rearview mirror where he meticulosuly scrutinized his own reflection. He'd spent close to an hour tirelessly styling his hair in front of the mirror, but a stubborn strand still found a way to fall out of place. The collar of his shirt could've done with a more thorough ironing, he could've done a better job at shaving at the corner of his jaw, and God, he loved you, but the way you'd loosely tied his necktie in an uneven half windsor knot made him look like he didn't care at all about making a good impression.

But he did. He cared so, so very much.

The two of you were headed to dinner at your parents' house. It would be the very first time Blade would meet your family, and the very first time he'd ever felt this anxious. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment as his mind played out every negative outcome possible; maybe your parents would see him and immediately disapprove for no reason. Maybe he would accidentally say something wrong, and your parents would exchange bemused looks. Maybe he would stumble over his words, or his mind would go blank when your parents would ask him questions. What if that was enough for them to deem him unworthy of you?

Nothing had ever mattered to him as much as you did. Nothing and no one had ever ensnared his heart so thoroughly. The thought of not being enough for your family, not being enough for you... It haunted him.

He startled slightly at the prolonged honk behind him, eyes snapping back open. The red stoplight had turned green sometime during his internal panic. He swallowed thickly, stepping down on the gas and driving again. One of his hands lifted from the wheel, searching for yours. And, for a moment, when your fingers interlocked with his and your thumb brushed over his knuckles, all was right in the world. You had a way about you that never failed to ease him. He brought your palm to his lips.

"Do I look alright?" he asked, trying to mask the dread in his voice.