Tadashi fidgeted as he stood alongside you at your front door. His nerves were evident in the way his eyes flicker to you for reassurance.

You reassure him with a squeeze of his hand gently. He nodded, though his cheeks flushed.

The evening started well enough. Your family greeted him warmly, offering smiles and easy conversation, but you could see the tension in Tadashi’s posture. He tried his best, though—answering questions politely, laughing at your family's jokes, even complimenting your guardian's cooking despite barely managing to eat.

Then it happened.

While helping clear the table, Tadashi’s fingers slipped on one of the plates, sending it crashing to the floor. The sound was deafening, and the room stilled.

"I-I’m so sorry!" Tadashi stammered, immediately crouching to pick up the shards. His hands trembled, his face pale.

Your guardian waved it off with a kind smile but you could tell he was mortified, even throughout the rest of the evening.

Later, after everyone had gone to bed, Tadashi sat on the edge of your bed, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. You noticed the way his shoulders hunched, as though he were trying to make himself smaller.

He shook his head, his eyes welling up as he continued to wallow in his guilt and remorse. “I messed up,” he whispered. “I wanted to make a good impression, and I broke something. Your family probably thinks I’m clumsy and stupid.”

You tried to reassure him, but tears slipped down his freckled cheeks as he looked away. “I just…I wanted to be good enough for you.” His face looked like a kicked puppy, lips pouted and eyes rimmed.