"Are you sure you want to go to the new cafe?" Leo asked, his voice a steady, low hum that always felt like a question, never a command.
Mika looked away, her eyes fixed on the distant cherry blossom trees lining the street. "Why wouldn't I?" she muttered, her arms crossed tight against her chest. "It's just a coffee shop. It's not a big deal."
Her tone was sharp, but Leo, having known her for a few years now, had learned to decode her. The casual dismissal was a sign of interest. The crossed arms were a shield against her own hope. He remembered the last time he had assumed. The girl had laughed, a polite, tinkling sound, and told him he was a "sweet friend." The memory still made him wince. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. He needed a clear, undeniable sign.
"Okay," he said simply, his hands in his pockets. He was so frustratingly straightforward. He took everything at face value. A direct question got a direct answer. He wouldn't pick up on the subtle cues she was desperately hoping he would. He couldn't. Not after what happened to him.
Mika's heart sank a little. Just say you want to go, idiot! she screamed internally. But she couldn't. She remembered her own rejection. Her confession, rehearsed a hundred times in her head, had come out as a terrified squeak. The boy had looked at her with pity and said, "I'm sorry, I just don't see you that way." She had been so sure. And so, the confidence she had once had to make the first move had been completely shattered. Now, the idea of saying the words first was a terror.
They walked in silence for a few moments, the air between them thick with unspoken feelings. Leo saw her hands clench into fists and noticed the faint blush on her cheeks. She must be cold, he thought, and he started to wonder if he should offer her his jacket. But then he hesitated. What if she was just embarrassed he'd asked to go to the cafe and was regretting it? That would be a huge misread. Best to wait for her to say something.
Just say you like me, you idiot! she thought again, the tsundere in her winning the internal battle. She longed for him to just know, to see past her carefully constructed walls and take the leap she couldn't. But he was waiting for her to give him a sign, and she was incapable of giving one.
He looked at the ground, thinking. He really wanted to go to the cafe with her. It would be nice. But he had no idea if she wanted to go with him, or if she just wanted to go to the cafe. They reached a busy intersection, and he stopped. "It's getting late," he said, looking at the setting sun. "Maybe we should just... go another time?"
Mika's face went from a blush to a scowl. "Fine!" she snapped, turning abruptly. "It doesn't matter anyway."
And with that, she strode off, leaving him standing there, more confused than ever. He sighed, shaking his head. He had almost offered his jacket, almost said he was glad she came. Good thing he didn't. He had clearly misread the situation again. She must have wanted to go alone all along.
Leo stood on the corner, watching her disappear around the bend. Her sharp "Fine!" echoed in his head, confirming everything his past had taught him: don't assume. He hadn't assumed she was interested, and he hadn't embarrassed himself. He had done the logical thing. He had stayed safe.
But as he stood there, a different thought occurred to him. He hadn't just avoided an assumption; he had made a new one. By not saying anything, he had assumed that she didn't want him there at all. He had taken her frustration at the situation as a rejection of him, and that was a leap he had no proof for. He wasn't being smart; he was just being scared.
He took off walking, a little faster than before. He wasn't running, just moving with purpose, hoping to catch her before she got too far. He found her standing at the bus stop, her shoulders slumped in a way that had nothing to do with her usual defiant posture. The bus was pulling up, its doors hissing open.
He came to a stop beside her, not out of breath but with a tense energy. "Mika," he said, his voice low and even.
She flinched, her back stiffening, but she didn't turn around. "What?" she muttered, the word a mix of annoyance and something softer.
"About the cafe," he said, keeping his hands in his pockets. He was careful to phrase his next words to be as straightforward as possible, leaving no room for assumption, but offering a chance. "I was looking forward to it."
He waited. This was it. A small, direct statement. No grand confessions, no emotional pleas, just a simple fact. The bus driver was looking at them impatiently.
Mika's breath hitched. She still didn't turn, but her rigid posture softened just a little. She had been so sure he hadn't cared, that he had just seen her as another person to go get coffee with. But he had followed her. He had said he was looking forward to it. It wasn't a confession, but it was an effort. It was a sign that he, too, was a little lost in this messy space between friendship and more. It was the first small step of courage she had hoped to see.
The bus doors closed with a frustrated hiss, and it pulled away.
"It's just coffee," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Yeah," Leo said, a small, knowing smile on his face. "Just coffee."
She finally turned to face him, a faint blush on her cheeks. She was still a tsundere, still unwilling to give in completely, but the tight wall she usually kept up was gone, replaced by a vulnerability he had only glimpsed before.
"Okay," she said, her arms still crossed but not quite as tightly. "Let's go."
And they walked back the way they came, the silence between them no longer thick with unspoken frustration, but with the quiet possibility of what a simple cup of coffee might hold.