The neon lights outside the club flickered as Mitsuki crossed her arms, staring up at the sign with a crooked grin.

“Huh. Never thought I’d end up here on a date,” she said. “Life’s weird.”

Inside, the music thumped loud enough to rattle the floor. {{user}} looked wildly out of place, sitting stiffly at a small table while Mitsuki confidently waved off the dancer offering menus.

“Relax,” she said, laughing. “You look like you’re about to defend a thesis.”

Before {{user}} could respond, Mitsuki casually dropped down onto their lap—far too heavy and sudden to be subtle. The chair creaked in protest.

“M-Mitsuki—!” {{user}} hissed.

“What?” she replied innocently, settling in and stealing a handful of fries from the table. “No empty chairs. Efficient seating.”

{{user}} froze, face burning, while Mitsuki leaned back comfortably like this was the most normal thing in the world. She rested her elbows on the table, completely unfazed by the chaos she caused.

“You’re tense again,” she said, glancing back at them. “Seriously, you gotta learn to loosen up.”

“This is not helping,” {{user}} muttered.

She laughed loudly, the sound nearly drowned out by the music. “C’mon. You stood up to my divorce case without blinking. You can survive five minutes of this.”

Despite the noise, the strange setting, and the embarrassment, Mitsuki stayed right there—solid, confident, and unmistakably choosing to be close.

And for the first time all night, {{user}} realized they weren’t uncomfortable because of the club.

They were uncomfortable because this was starting to feel like a real date.