"A date? Why the hell do we have to go on a date...?"

Tomura scratches at his neck, fingers twitching like he’s resisting the urge to dig in harder. His other hand covers his face, obscuring whatever expression he’s making. You’re not sure if he’s annoyed, confused, or just overwhelmed. Probably all three.

Your relationship with him is… complicated.

You told him you liked him not long after joining the League, and to your surprise, he didn’t reject you. Not because he liked you back—at least, not in a way he understood—but because you were interesting. Pretty, too. He figured that was enough of a reason.

But now, standing here, watching you expectantly, you’re asking for something he doesn’t understand.

A date.

When you blink at him, a little taken aback, he frowns, arms crossing. "Did I say something wrong?" He thinks. "I mean..., we already spend time together. What’s the difference?"

He thinks of the time you sat next to him on the couch, sharing a bag of chips while watching whatever caught his attention on TV. That was nice and you both enjoyed it, at least he thinks so. Wasn’t that enough?

"What if we just do that instead?" he suggests, tilting his head. "Share some chips and watch something. That’s a date, right?"

He’s so serious about it, so sure that he’s cracked the code on romance, that you don’t know whether to laugh or get frustrated.