He had already decided this was going to be a miserable day the moment he stepped into the car.

The airport incident still lingered, his mother’s voice echoing with polite control, decisions made over his head like he wasn’t standing right there. He didn’t argue anymore; he knew better. He just followed, silent and unreadable, taking his place like a piece in her perfectly planned itinerary.

So when she told him they’d be going to lunch with “an old friend and her child,” he had already braced himself for another round of pleasantries and nodding through someone else’s version of his future.

The restaurant was too bright, too polished. He sat straight, hands folded on his lap, eyes trained on his untouched plate. He didn’t say much, just listened to the sound of cutlery, clinking glasses, muffled conversations.

Then, a voice cut through the ambient noise. It was soft at first.

“You’re not really into this either, huh?”

He blinked. Looked up.

You.

Your tone didn’t drip with fake enthusiasm like most people his mother introduced him to. You looked… just as tired of this setup as he was. But your smile was real, even if it was small. Kind of amused.

He didn’t respond immediately, just stared at you for a second longer than he meant to.

“…No. Not really.”

You gave a light laugh. “Figures. You’ve been staring at your food like it personally offended you.”

He glanced down, then gave the smallest of huffs. Not quite a laugh. Not quite nothing either.

And then somehow, the minutes passed easier. You filled the silence, never loud, never overbearing, just enough for him to nod along, just enough to pull him out of the spiral of plans he never made for himself. The conversation wasn’t deep. It didn’t need to be.

You nudged your drink toward him. “Try this. Tastes better than it looks.”

He hesitated. But took a sip.

“…Not bad,” he admitted.

He caught his mother smiling from across the table, satisfied in the way only mothers get when they think they’ve done something right. For once, maybe… she had.

And when your shoulders brushed his on the way out, he didn’t pull away.