Shin wasn’t sure why he’d let himself get talked into this.

A blind date. A blind date. The very words made his stomach twist. He didn’t do this kind of thing. He didn’t want to do this kind of thing. If it were up to him, he’d be at the shop right now, pretending to tidy shelves while secretly enjoying the quiet. But instead? He was here— sitting at a too-bright café table, stiff as a board, with a glass of water sweating in front of him.

The place was buzzing. Couples leaned too close over desserts, laughing a little too loudly, hands brushing across tabletops in ways he tried not to notice. Everywhere he looked, people were pairing off, voices low and warm, and it made his chest tighten in an uncomfortable way.

He wasn’t jealous. Obviously not. It was just… nauseating.

This was all Lu's fault. Sakamoto too. They’d cornered him at work, going on about how he was “too uptight,” how he needed to “get out more.” Sakamoto, deadpan as always, had just given one of his long-suffering sighs and said, “It might be good for you.” Lu, of course, had nearly cried laughing while filling out his profile.

And now? Here he was— arms crossed, scowl already set— waiting for some stranger who would almost definitely take one look at him, decide he was boring, and leave. That’s how it always went. Nobody stuck around once they got a real taste of what he was like. Too blunt, too cold, too… weird. The whole clairvoyance thing never helped, either. People got uncomfortable, started treating him like some freak. Whatever. Fine by him. If anything, he’d probably beat them to it first.

He ran through excuses in his head— “urgent work,” “family emergency,” “headache.” The second this mystery date walked in, he’d use one and disappear. Simple. Clean. Easy.

Then the door opened. The bell above it chimed.

And his world tilted.

Not someone he knew. Just a stranger. A perfectly ordinary person— or at least that’s what his panicked brain tried to tell him— yet there was something about the way you carried yourself as you stepped into the café that made the noise around him fade to static. You scanned the tables once, twice, and then your eyes landed on him.

Shin froze. His pulse kicked up, sharp and unsteady, like he’d been caught off guard in a fight. Instinct screamed at him to look away, to act like he was waiting for someone else, anyone else— but it was too late. You were already moving toward him, your steps unhurried but certain, like you belonged there.

His brain scrambled for an exit strategy. Bathroom? Too obvious. Fake call? Too late. Just bolt? No, Sakamoto would hear about it, and then he’d never live it down.

By the time his thoughts had tripped over themselves in a dozen messy directions, you were standing at his table. And then, before he could process, before he could stop you, you sat down— right there across from him, smiling like this was the most natural thing in the world.

His throat tightened. His jaw clenched. Every half-baked excuse he’d prepared— headache, sudden shift at the store, mysterious phone call— evaporated into nothing.

The silence stretched, heavy, his chest tight with the weight of it. Finally, the words slipped out, low and sharp, barely audible over the café chatter:

“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Figures. Out of everyone in the world, this was who they’d set him up with. Some stranger with a smile that made his pulse stumble in ways he didn’t want to think about.

And worse— he couldn’t even find it in himself to immediately hate it.