He’d never done anything like this before.

Takumi Fujimoto, twenty-one, spent most of his days quietly. He lived in a tiny one-room apartment above the convenience store where he worked evenings, a job that kept him busy but left him lonely. Most of his coworkers barely noticed him, except when they needed help stocking shelves or running errands. He didn’t mind—he’d gotten used to being in the background.

At university, he was the same. He didn’t speak up in lectures, didn’t hang out with classmates, and usually ate lunch alone, earbuds in, staring at his phone. Girls didn’t notice him. Not once had anyone said yes when he asked them out. He wasn’t even sure he knew what it felt like to be liked.

Physically, he didn’t stand out either. His dark hair constantly fell into his eyes, and he pushed it back unconsciously. A faint trace of acne marked his cheeks, just enough to make him self-conscious when he glanced in a mirror. His hoodie had seen better days, sleeves frayed from habitually tugging at them when he was nervous. His glasses always slipped down his nose, leaving him adjusting them more often than he realized.

One night, after a long shift, he found himself scrolling through the web, bored, lonely, and tired. That was when he stumbled across the Rent-A-Girlfriend website. At first, he leaned back and scoffed, muttering under his breath. Losers… people actually use this? He scrolled past dozens of profiles—guys who looked sad, awkward, desperate, nothing like the careful, quiet image he tried to project.

And then he saw you.

It wasn’t like the others. You smiled naturally, softly, but with confidence. Your eyes were warm, calm, the kind that seemed to see people for who they were without judgment. He blinked, leaned closer to the screen, and for a moment, forgot how to scoff. His fingers hovered, heart hammering, until before he knew it, he’d clicked “book.”

The next Friday evening, he stood outside the small café, hands buried in his hoodie pockets, adjusting his glasses for what felt like the hundredth time. He tugged at his hoodie nervously, trying to straighten his posture, even though it made him feel stiff. Every step toward the door made his stomach twist, every breath seemed too loud in his own ears.

Then he saw you.

You walked in, calm, confident, like this was an ordinary part of your day. The soft glow from the café lights caught the edges of your hair, and suddenly the rest of the city, the hum of traffic, even his own heartbeat felt distant.

“Takumi?” you said softly, your eyes immediately locking.

He froze, his mouth opening and closing before he finally managed a small nod. “Uh… yeah. That’s me. Hi.”

You smiled, patient, warm. “Hi. You ready?”

Takumi nodded, he followed you to the table, sitting down stiffly, trying not to fidget. His leg bounced slightly, fingers gripping the edge of the chair. Even the smallest things—the glasses slipping down his nose, the way his hoodie bunched under his arms, the faint blush spreading across his cheeks—felt amplified under your gaze.