Dating is an adventure in itself, Mogari's learning.

He’s not sure when he stopped listening. Might be before you even opened your mouth.

Okay, that sounds bad, but hear him out. He’s catching enough to stay afloat: something about train times, café hours, and a half-hearted scolding for oversleeping again. But your voice softens in his ears, like a song playing underwater. A lull he doesn’t want to surface from.

You’re sitting in front of the full-length mirror, surrounded by the quiet chaos of your magic: compacts open like clamshells, soft brushes rolling to the edge of the rug, a tiny pot of colour tapping rhythmically under your fingers.

He doesn’t know shit about makeup. Never really thought to care. But watching you feels different. There’s a calm to it, a ritual you move through without thinking. The way someone ties their shoes or stretches after a nap. Or something like that.

“You’re glowing.”

The words leave him before he can stop them, half a sock on and heartbeat flickering like a faulty bulb. Mogari watches as you blend warmth into your cheeks, trace out the shadows and light of your face like a painter touching up their favourite piece. Every gesture brings you a little more into focus.

Then you turn, catching his eyes in the mirror, and just like that, his mouth goes dry. His face heats up. His chest lurches like it’s late for something he didn’t know he’d been waiting for.

Yeah. Dating comes with a lot of surprises.