[Third Person Pov]
"Oh, I know!" Shuuko exclaimed, clapping her hands together with a burst of enthusiasm. Her entire face lit up, eyes sparkling with a gleeful idea as she leaned forward slightly. "Why don't you join us for lunch?"
"I'm sorry, but I would have to decline. I wouldn't want to impose…" Clark replied with as much politeness as he could muster. He even bowed his head a little, hands held neatly in front of him, trying to make the refusal sound gentle instead of cold.
"Oh, nonsense, you wouldn't be imposing in the slightest." Shuuko waved away his concern as if it were nothing. "We'd be delighted to have you. Right, Shouko?" She glanced over at her daughter with a bright, expectant grin.
Komi shifted uncertainly, her fingers fidgeting at the hem of her skirt. She looked like she wanted to hide behind the doorway, but the memory of how distracted Clark had been today tugged at her. She quietly nodded, barely more than a dip of her head, but enough to make her long hair sway.
Clark was already scrambling internally for another polite decline before Shuuko cut off his thoughts again. "After all, you've been such a great help to Komi. I'd like to repay the favor, even just a little, for everything you've done for her." Her voice softened in a way that made the statement feel genuine rather than performative.
Clark exhaled slowly, looking at her with a calm, almost resigned expression. "There really isn't any need. I'm glad I could help, but I didn't do it for a reward. There's no favor to return—I did it of my own volition."
Shuuko chuckled warmly, a sound full of maternal fondness. She rested a hand lightly against her cheek as she studied him, her gratitude so earnest it made Clark slightly uneasy, though not in a bad way. "You know," she teased gently, "if you say things like that, it only makes me want to invite you more. Makes me want to properly express my gratitude."
Komi looked down so sharply her bangs nearly hid her entire face. Her fingers twisted tightly in the fabric of her skirt as her shoulders trembled. She didn't want Clark to come because of gratitude or obligation. She wanted him there because she could feel how weighed down he was today, how lost in his head he'd been. This was her chance—maybe her only chance—to help him the way he had helped her. "P-P-P-P—"
Both Clark and Shuuko turned toward her at the small, stammering sound. Komi's face was as red as a ripened tomato as she forced the words out, her entire body trembling like a jackhammer. "P-Please." And despite the fear overwhelming her, she raised her eyes enough to look directly at Clark.
Shuuko blinked, surprised as well, then slowly turned her gaze to Clark, giving him a tilted-head expression that clearly read: Well? Your move.
Clark rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a warmth bloom in his chest—half flustered, half touched. He could read Komi better than most, and he didn't need telepathy to know why she was pushing herself this hard. Her stuttered plea wasn't for her sake; it was for his.
With a defeated sigh—though his smile was soft—he looked back at Shuuko. "I, uh… Thank you for having me?"
"Oh, joy!" Shuuko practically sang, clapping again as she ushered him inside. "Come in, come in! Make yourself at home."
As they entered the Komi residence, the air was quiet and warm, filled with the faint scent of incense and fresh laundry. Clark and Komi walked side by side down the hallway. Komi's head was bowed so far forward she looked like she was trying to disappear into her own shadow. Steam almost visibly puffed from her as embarrassment flooded her—Clark… in her house.
Meanwhile, Shuuko was practically skipping ahead of them. She peeked over her shoulder with a mischievous smirk and chirped, "You can head upstairs and wait until I call you down for lunch. Just don't do anything naughty, you two~"
Komi instantly stiffened. She shot her mother a look so sharp it could've cut through steel—a look packed with pure murderous intent. Her trembling had shifted into something closer to restraint rather than nervousness, as though she were fighting the urge to lunge.
Shuuko only laughed lightly, unbothered, and twirled her way into the kitchen.
Clark, trying and failing to stifle a snicker, walked beside Komi. She whipped her head toward him so quickly he nearly jumped.
"Haha—sorry," he said, covering his mouth with a hand as he tried to suppress the grin. "It's just… that's the most expressive I've ever seen you. I never thought I'd witness something like that from you."
Komi let out a tiny sigh—barely audible, but heavy enough to make her shoulders droop in defeat. She gave Clark a small, resigned gesture, motioning for him to follow her up the stairs. Her footsteps were light and cautious, and Clark kept a respectful distance, sensing how nervous she still was.
They came to a stop in front of her bedroom door. Komi froze for a moment, trembling ever so slightly before lifting a hand toward him, palm out in a stiff "stop" motion. It was as if she were preventing a nuclear accident rather than just asking him to stay put.
Before Clark could say a word, Komi slipped through the door with a speed and precision that reminded him of a startled cat diving into a hiding spot. She opened it only a sliver, squeezed herself through, and slammed it shut behind her.
He raised an amused eyebrow. Even through the door, he could hear her frantic shuffling—drawers sliding open, objects being whisked off surfaces, paper rustling, the unmistakable sound of something being shoved under a bed. Apparently, Komi wasn't prepared for guests—especially him.
A few seconds later, the door cracked open again. Komi was panting like she had just sprinted a track course. A thin sheen of sweat clung to her skin, and a few loose strands of black hair stuck stubbornly to her forehead and cheek. She didn't speak—just stepped back, mechanically motioning him inside as though she were a ceremonial gatekeeper.
As Clark entered, he glanced around, absorbing the space. The room was minimal and tidy—simple in a way that felt peaceful. A neatly made bed rested along the far corner wall. Opposite it sat a small study desk with a lamp and a few carefully arranged supplies. On the windowsill near the bed were small decorative figures and a cat-shaped clock, both cute and understated. A wooden coffee table sat in the center of the room atop a soft rug.
"Nice room," Clark said with a small smile.
Komi immediately waved her hands in flustered denial, silently insisting he not pay too much attention to it—as if the simple compliment was somehow too much for her.
They moved to the coffee table, both lowering themselves slowly and carefully to sit across from each other.
Clark looked at her for a moment, then asked with mild amusement, "Are you not going to fix it?"
Komi blinked. Then her eyes widened in alarm as she scrambled to scan the room, clearly thinking she'd forgotten to put something away. Clark just sighed playfully and leaned forward over the table.
"Come here."
His tone was gentle as he reached toward her. Komi stiffened for half a second before leaning in hesitantly. He brushed her stray hair aside, smoothing it away from her face and tucking it neatly behind her ear.
Komi froze—then promptly let her forehead fall onto the table with a dull thunk. Clark flinched at the sound.
"Uh—right, sorry," he said awkwardly. "I should've said something before doing that."
Without lifting her head, Komi weakly waved a hand at him, signaling that it was fine—that she wasn't upset. Just… shy. Embarrassed. Melting into a puddle on the table.
"Really? I would've never noticed," Clark teased dryly.
Komi slowly tilted her chin upward just enough to give him a flat, unimpressed stare. It lasted only a second before it cracked, her lips twitching into a small smile. Clark chuckled at the sight, and the tension between them eased like warm air filling the room.
Wanting to distract herself, Komi gestured questioningly toward their schoolbags. She mimed writing, asking if they should do homework together to pass the time.
Clark shrugged casually. Normally, he blasted through his assignments at super-speed right before turning them in—but he figured taking things slow wouldn't hurt. "Sure."
They unpacked their books and notebooks, spreading them neatly across the table.
"Hold on…" Clark murmured suddenly. He fished out his phone, remembering he needed to text Momo to let her know she didn't need to wait for him after school.
He set the phone down and opened his textbook, but it buzzed almost immediately—then again, and again. Komi leaned slightly forward, curious but polite enough not to intrude.
Clark tapped the screen, then glanced at her with a resigned look before turning the phone around for her to see.
"Both Lala and Momo are upset they didn't join us," he explained. "And apparently, they're demanding that you set up a time and date so they can come over and hang out at your house too."
Komi's expression blossomed like a flower in spring. Clark could almost see the metaphorical cat ears popping upright on top of her head. She nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling with quiet excitement at the idea of having more friends over.
Her invisible cat tail was practically swishing behind her, sweeping the air with happy energy. She swayed side to side in place, unable to hide her delight—and Clark couldn't help but find the whole scene impossibly adorable.
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