Chuuya Nakahara wasn’t sure why he had let his so-called friends talk him into this. A blind date. The very idea made his skin crawl. He had fought off their meddling for months, but Dazai’s smug needling, Kouyou’s careful concern, and even Tachihara’s half-drunk pep talks had worn him down. He had made them a deal: one date. Just one. And if he didn’t like the woman they picked, they’d never bring it up again. He thought it was a perfect trap to spring on them. He’d endure a few hours of awkward conversation, walk away unimpressed, and finally be free of the constant whispers about how he needed someone in his life.

Still, he didn’t want to take her somewhere… predictable. Too fancy would have sent the wrong message. He wasn’t here to impress anyone, especially not some stranger chosen on his behalf. He wasn’t here to play the role of perfect gentleman with a bottle of imported wine and a tablecloth so crisp it felt like a blade. He wanted something simple, stripped down, easy to escape from if things went south. So he chose a burger joint. Cozy, tucked in the corner of a street where the neon lights didn’t quite reach, warm air spilling out when the door opened. A place without linen napkins or wine pairings, just chalkboard menus and the constant crackle of a fryer.

Chuuya didn’t belong here, and he knew it. His clothes alone stood out—expensive fabric and meticulous tailoring, his hat resting on the seat beside him like an unspoken barrier. The staff kept sneaking glances, maybe wondering what someone like him was doing in their little corner of the world. He ignored them. He’d dealt with far worse scrutiny in his life. What unsettled him more was the woman sitting across from him.

She was nothing like what he expected. Nothing like the vapid, simpering type he had pictured when his friends promised him they had the “perfect match.” She didn’t shrink under his sharp tone or shift nervously under his gaze. She leaned on her elbow, smirk tugging at her lips every time he let his irritation slip through. When the waitress brought menus, she looked delighted, eyes scanning the chalkboard list of specialty burgers like it was a five-star wine list.

“What are you thinking of getting?” she asked, voice light, playful.

Chuuya scowled down at the laminated sheet. “They’re all just… burgers.”

She laughed, not meanly but like she couldn’t help herself. “That’s kind of the point. You pick one with whatever toppings sound good and go with it. Don’t overthink it.”

He didn’t dignify that with a response. Overthinking was the only thing keeping him from bolting out the door. But somehow, he ordered. Something with bacon, because that seemed safe. She chose the messiest burger on the menu, the one dripping with three sauces and extra cheese.

When the food arrived, Chuuya was almost offended. The plate set before him looked like a toy, dwarfed by the oversized basket of fries beside it. He picked it up cautiously, as if it might fall apart in his hands, and took a bite. It wasn’t… bad. In fact, it was surprisingly good, smoky and sharp, the bun soft enough to melt. But that didn’t stop him from grumbling.

His date, on the other hand, had no reservations. She dove in with both hands, sauce streaking her fingers, grinning when he stared at her in mild horror. “What?” she asked through a mouthful. “You’ve never seen someone eat a burger before?”

Chuuya wiped his thumb against a napkin, irritation tightening the corners of his mouth. “Not like that.”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “That’s because you’ve never eaten in the right places. You’re used to everything coming with a knife and fork, huh?”

He bristled. She wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t like her pointing it out. His whole life had been built around control—control of his image, his temper, his surroundings. Yet here he was, in a place that smelled of fried oil and laughter, across from a woman who didn’t seem to care who he was or how carefully he guarded himself.

“Why are these burgers so small?” He asked grumpily.