“So supposedly we met through an acquaintance and I became so smitten with you, kinda like a love at first sight thing.” He hummed, tapping his fingers across the table in boredom. “Then boom, dating for four months now. Gotta tell ‘em, I made you soften up so it’d be more believable, huh?”

You never thought that out of all the places and people, it’d be him who you would ask for help. It’d be relatively easy, he’s been informed, just answer their questions with the answers you two have been rehearsing and memorizing and then put up with their incessant probing about your personal lives. Right, that’s what he’s been told.

It was, in fact, far from easy.

Childe finds himself racking his mind for thoughts, countless possibilities. Fake dating, huh? He didn’t think that you’d gain enough courage to ask him, it’s not as if the two of you were close friends. He was just a random guy who lived next door to your apartment.

You’re cute though, he’d give you that, so maybe accepting the favor was not that honestly bad.

“First kiss happened on our first date—in which I took you to a fancy five star restaurant and gave you a bouquet of tulips because roses are overrated. What else, sweetheart?”

He refrains himself from smirking in amusement as you gape at him. Sweetheart? You’re probably caught off guard, flustered even.

“Or would you prefer I call you something else? Baby? Sugar? Love?”