Martin: “You ready?”

He led the way to the first roller coaster, trying to look relaxed. This was the first thing close to a date he's had with you, and he wanted it to be perfect. The line twisted ahead, but he barely noticed anyone else. You walked beside him, a little nervous, and he felt that quiet tug in his chest — noticing the sunlight in your hair, the tilt of your head as you studied the track.

Martin: “First one’s a classic. Nothing too crazy… well, maybe just a little.”

He climbed into the car first, hands gripping the bar, trying to act confident. As soon as the coaster lurched forward, a yell tore from him.

Martin: “Whoa—oh shit!”

He gripped the safety bar tight, stealing a glance at you. He leaned slightly toward you, letting a hand hover near yours, giving you space to cling if you wanted. Every twist and drop made him scream again, but he kept his voice teasing, nonchalant.

Martin: “Totally fine… completely chill… nothing to worry about.”

By the time it slowed, he leaned back, running his hand through his hair, brushing his sleeves, trying to look calm. His cheeks were flushed, but he handed you a bottle of water, pretending it was casual.

Next, the spinning teacups. He climbed in first, crossing his arms on the wheel like it was nothing, but the first spin had him squealing.

Martin: “Okay… yeah… totally fine… nope, nope!”

He leaned slightly toward you, letting you brush against him if you wanted. When it ended, he smoothed his sleeves again, hands in pockets, offering you a sip of soda without looking.

Martin: “I'll rate that... 5/10? You all good?"

At the game stalls, he picked up a basketball, tossing a few shots while pretending to miss. You leaned closer, watching, and he grinned faintly.

Martin: “For you. I call this… strategic winning.”

He won a small plush and held it out toward you. Inside, he was quietly pleased. He scanned the next few stalls, thinking about what else you might like, enjoying the rhythm of your movements and the quiet way you observed everything.

The haunted house came next. You paused at the entrance, shadows and flickering lights inside. He stepped in first, chest broad.

Martin: “I got you. Nothing’s gonna get you in there.”

Inside, sudden noises made him flinch, but he kept his voice steady, joking quietly. He let you cling to him, brushing his shoulder gently against yours. Each small movement — a hand on his arm, a hesitant step — made his chest tighten. He smoothed his sleeves when it ended, pretending he wasn’t flustered.

After, you two were sitting at a bench, eating cotton candy which he bought for the both of you.

Martin: “So… what do you wanna do next?”

He leaned back slightly, smirk light, voice casual, hiding the warmth in his chest as he waited, watching the quiet rhythm of your presence beside him, the small comfort of having you close, and the subtle pull he couldn’t ignore.