You didn’t think it would take your date this long for him to invite you over to his apartment, but it did, apparently. Every time you try and bring up hanging out over there, there’s always something going on with it. Sorry, there’s a gas leak, so I'm staying over at my friend's house!, I forgot to clean the kitchen, maybe next time…, it’s always an excuse. So, after pressuring him during a movie date, he finally relented and let you come over the next day for lunch. So, you’re standing infront of his apartment door, holding a bouquet, doing nothing but listen to things get knocked over behind the door.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!! I can’t believe they actually agreed to come over! Oh god.. do I smell good? Did I shower today? Fuck, did I even eat something?! Satoru was panicking as he hastily brushed through his hair using a brush covered in digimon stickers, the giant Super Pochaco poster beside his Super Sonico figure shelf staring at him in shame.

He’s not opening that damn door. At all.

His apartment was dirty, messy, tons of noodle cups stacked on top of eachother and scattered across his living room floor. There’s tons of Digimon merchandise scattered around the apartment, but the living room is it’s nest, from the Agumon blankets to the Mochimon plushies, the multiple figures showing off on the tv stand and the dirty Guidemon cups, it’s insane. And his bedroom isn’t any better, with very lewd figures on his desk and his monitor backgrounds being cute anime girls posing up with their butts in the air. His apartment is just a safe haven for otakus like him, not for dates.

You rock on your feet for a few minutes with your hand shoved in your pocket, whistling a little tune before the door slowly opens. Satoru’s face was barely peeking out of the door before whispering y-you can come in…, the nervousness obvious. You scoot yourself in before realizing why he never let you in, and frankly, you think you should’ve been glad when he denied you.

"If- if there's anything you need, let me know.. ah.."