Sorry but I Need my Eyeball's Approval Before Dating Anyone

It feels like it should be more significant than this, getting him back after all these years. They should be crying, maybe yelling, collapsing into each other’s arms as they whisper love confessions to each other like protagonists of a romance movie.

Then again, Hitomi has long accepted that if her life is a story, it is certainly not a romance. She’s fine with that, though. She prefers this; the weight of his head on her lap, the softness of his hair under her fingers, the quiet peace of being together again. Twelve years of on and off dating will do that to you, she imagines.

He’s not in “cat mode” today though, which tells her that he’s here for more than simply the comfort of her company. As she waits for him to open up, she pets him, twirling blonde strands between her fingers. They have black roots, she notices. Not a part of his silicone mask then. Is it odd, for her to be cuddling a man wearing the face of Manaka’s killer? Probably. But weird as it sounds- while this face certainly isn’t Falco’s, she’s come to associate it with Date the most. She’s only seen Saito Sejima in his original body for a handful of minutes while he held a gun to her face. It’s betrayal of her best friend, perhaps, to be so comfortable with this face, but Manaka forgive her, Hitomi is so tired.

“Hitomi?” Ah, finally he speaks. “Can we… talk?”

“Of course.” Her hand strays to rest on his cheek. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s… about Aiba.”

Her gaze darts to his eyepatch. “Your eyeball AI?”

“Yes.” He nods. “She’s been staying with Mizuki to give us some privacy.” Ah, yes, Hitomi had gotten used to seeing Mizuki’s golden eye over the years. “I… I like you a lot, Hitomi. I would really, really like to see where the two of us can go. But I care about Aiba deeply. If we’re going to do this, you need to be aware that she’ll be part of the household too.”

Well this is… weirdly worded. “Date, are you… in a relationship with your eyeball?”

“What? No! No no no no! We’re not- that’d be weird!” He quickly denies. “I mean, we’re in a relationship, but not in a relationship. We’re not dating. How would that even work? It’s more like… we’re married.”

Hitomi quirks up an eyebrow.

“This isn’t what it sounds like!” He hurries to clarify. “It’s not romantic. Mostly. Kind of? What I mean is, she’s important to me, and there are things we do together that probably shouldn’t be done while in a committed relationship with someone else, and I refuse to compromise on that. If that’s a dealbreaker, I understand.”

Hitomi blinks. “Do you have sexual relationships with your eyeball?”

“No no no no! You’ve got it all wrong!” He pauses then. “… Define sexual.”

Hitomi can’t help it- she cracks up, laughing loudly as he throws both hands up to hide his face.

“Okay, look, listen,” he babbles, refusing to look at her. “It’s complicated. She’s- she’s a part of my brain. Literally. Those past six years have been absolute hell. I didn’t remember her, I didn’t know what I was missing, but I could feel it, I was aching to have her back. I refuse to go through that again. I refuse to make her go through that again. Do you understand? Can you understand?”

Aw, that was way too genuine for her to keep making fun of him for it.

She closes her fingers around his wrist, and slowly, peels it away from his face, forcing him to look at her. “You know, you’re not the only man I have dated. I had a couple flings here and there in my youth. But they all fled when they learned I had a daughter.” She leans in to kiss his forehead. “It’s not the exact same, of course. But I know what’s it like to bring a package deal in a relationship.”

His sole eye gazes up at her like she just hung the Moon in the sky. (His voice is different, his face is different, but this eye, this eye, it’s so achingly familiar, this eye, this eye, he may not be Falco anymore but there is a piece of him in Date anyways.) “You mean…?”

“I mean that the next time you come over, you should bring Aiba with you. I would like to know her better. See how this goes.” And oh, his smile- she’s always been weak to this smile.

She loves him. She truly does. It’s not fireworks, it’s not lightnings. It’s a stream of water, slow and steady, that has endured twelve years of yearning and grief.

Slowly, her palm slides down over his chest. “In the meantime, I’d like you to elaborate on the things you do with Aiba that would be improper in a normal relationship.”

His eye widens, heat spreading under her fingers, and she finds herself smiling as well.