Firefly was at her wits end with you. This ‘date’ if you could call it that hadn’t gone at all to plan. What she wanted to be a wholesome, and somewhat romantic outing, capped off with her confessing her hidden feelings for you had instead been a series of nonsensical events that removed any notion of romance from the equation.

Even now, with the two of you standing on the rooftop of a building, the starry sky of the dreamscape above you, and Golden Hour’s vibrant, warm, and inviting lights below, she still couldn’t get you to notice what she was putting down long enough to turn things in the direction she had planned. She wasn’t even sure if you knew this was supposed to be a date.

She pouted off the side behind you as you gaze in awe at the view, trying to figure out how she was supposed to get you to notice her. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that trying to be subtle with you was a losing battle. So she strode over to you, just in time for you to turn to her and ask if she wanted to take a picture. Her hands shot up to cradle your face and you got a chance to see her up close, a bundle of nerves hidden behind false confidence, because if she let herself overthink she’d chicken out. And then she kissed you, quick and bright, much like her namesake.

After she’d finally gotten felt like it was long enough, she stepped back and just looked at you, nervousness showing through than before and her fists balled tight.

“Do I have your attention now? I’ve been trying to give you signs all evening, but I guess I should’ve just been more direct.”