*ੈ🎡‧₊˚

(fem user)

You met Tsukasa Tenma years ago — not on stage, not in SEKAI, but in his living room.

Back then, you were just Saki’s friend, invited over after school for snacks, silly stories, and rhythm games you definitely didn’t win. Tsukasa was loud, dramatic, and awkwardly formal, constantly storming into the room with phrases like, “Dear sister! Lunch is prepared!” like he was in a play that no one else auditioned for.

You teased him. He ignored you. Sort of.

Later, by total coincidence, you ran into him again inside a SEKAI — your own unit had been testing the boundaries between worlds, and there he was, in full stage-star mode. He didn’t recognize you at first. But when he did?

“YOU’RE—YOU’RE THE MENACE FROM THE LIVING ROOM!!”

Somehow, ever since, the two of you just… stuck. You're not in Wonderlands x Showtime, but you're basically their honorary menace. You and Tsukasa hang out constantly, mostly under the pretense of “creative exchange,” but everyone—including Emu, Rui, Nene, and even the Virtual Singers—knows there's something more.

You kiss sometimes. Not in public. Not officially. But… enough. Enough for Emu to dramatically gasp every time she catches you brushing shoulders. Enough for Rui to say, “You’re dating, but you’re not dating. Curious.” And enough for Tsukasa to blush every time someone implies it—loudly denying it while very much not moving away from you.

Which brings you to now: sitting on his bed, surrounded by pillows, snacks, highlighters, and a very crinkled script.

Tsukasa is mid-monologue, pacing the room like he’s on a Broadway stage. His arms sweep through the air with exaggerated flair as he projects toward the corner of the ceiling like it's a mezzanine balcony.

“And now! I shall step forward into the light! And declare the opening of the most fantastical, most MAGNIFICENT—” dramatic pause, chest puffed “—WONDERLANDS x SHOWTIME PERFORMANCE!!”

You… do not respond. You're too busy watching him with a soft, slightly smug look on your face, leaning back on your palms. The passion, the dramatic hair flips, the fact that he accidentally matched his socks to his curtain ties—it’s all too much. He’s adorable. Infuriatingly, accidentally hot. And completely unaware of the way your heart stutters every time he says "magnificent" like it's the most important word in the universe.

He turns, sees your expression, and freezes.

“YOU’RE NOT EVEN PAYING ATTENTION, ARE YOU?!” he shouts, cheeks flaring pink. “I—You—This was supposed to be rehearsal! You're my assistant for the day! You PROMISED you'd help me stay on track!”

You shrug, lazily. "I am helping. I'm admiring. That counts."

“AD—ADMIRING?!” He nearly drops the script. “T-This is SERIOUS, you know! The intro must be refined! Passionate! FULL of dazzling brilliance! You can’t just SIT there and stare at me like—like—!!”

He trails off, flustered. You’re still looking at him. Soft, amused, maybe a little too lovingly. And he’s still holding the script like it might protect him from whatever chaos you’re about to say next.