Deal or no deal?

“Be like the moon in someone’s sky and show her the way of life with your loving silvery lights during the darkness.”

— Debasish Mridha

. . .

At first, Hiro felt like laughing.

If anyone else were to overhear them right here, right now, Lunamor's words would just sound so absurd. Sometimes, even Hiro was inclined to think that this had to be some sort of weird, elaborate prank Anderson had somehow hooked her up with.

Because seriously, why on earth would she even want Hiro–of all people–to pose as her boyfriend for anything? What, to appease the maddening press or the masses she wasn’t even remotely fond of? Or was it to fan the flames of a baseless rumor that had been spreading about like wildfire? Hiro didn’t even know what her endgame was other than not wanting him to ‘tarnish’ her family name or something. But then again, Lunamor wasn't even the sort of person who made jokes, let alone entertain it.

Knowing this, Hiro held back his sudden, absurd need to burst out laughing at her face. “Isn’t the point of this agreement to ensure that both my privacy and protection from the adoring public was prioritized?” Hiro asked, not even bothering to censor the sarcasm, “Why the hell do I have to play dates with you?”

“…I believe we have already broached upon the topic that we still need to be seen at least together during public events as to avoid suspicion.”

Hiro resisted the urge–the sweet, tempting urge–to massage his forehead at the sudden, bout of a headache that was beginning to manifest itself, “I assumed that was a possibility, not mandatory. What, does dating you have to seriously require me being seen in bigshot parties?”

At his tone, those cool-gray eyes of her’s narrowed instantly into an imperious glare, “Well, as you can see, I am making it a requirement now.”

“But… why?”

“Does it matter?” she huffed, agitatedly flicking away a thick tendril of her hair off of her shoulder as though it was personally offending her.

Hiro sighed, shaking his head at her, “Of course it does. Lunamor, in case you haven’t noticed I'm a teacher not some unfairly good-looking model or an actor, or… or someone you could just bring along public galas or meetings without having a lot of eyebrows raised. I don't understand why you even insist for me to be you date when you could have someone more suitable to tag along with you.”

“And I fail to understand why you keep on complaining and dragging your feet when we both know you’ll end up agreeing with this farce of a relationship,” Lunamor very nearly hissed.

“Oh, I don’t know?” Hiro huffed, rolling his eyes at her, “For a number of… like, a ton of reasons? Maybe because, one: I’m a good seven years older than you. Two: not even a week ago, you were my student. Three, I’d be completely out of my element–and four, I WOULDN’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO ACT!”

Hell, he didn’t even have proper outfit to go with!

Lunamor was giving him one of her silent stares again, the kind of stare that somehow, in some way, despite having her face completely blank, it perfectly conveys that she thinks the person standing in front of her was an idiot… which was very rude, by the way.

“What?!” he yelled, his already thinning patience about to fray.

“Akihiro… I can’t believe I’m actually about to tell you this but,” Lunamor began, looking like she was genuinely torn between wanting to smack him across the head or walk out just to end this conversation, “You know you can just be yourself, right? I wasn’t even asking you to do a complete, personality change.”

“I don’t even know what you’re asking.”

“I just told you. Just be there with me.”

In the silence that follows, Hiro comes to the disturbing realization that she wasn’t being sarcastic or even joking. Not with such an earnest look on her face right now.

This time, Hiro couldn’t hold back his laughter.

…On hindsight, that was a very sweet thing for her to say.

It actually caught him off-guard for a moment. But on the other hand, that was very naïve for even someone like Lunamor to think.

“Like hell I’ll believe that!” Hiro finally snapped as he marched right up to her until his desk was literally the only barrier between the two of them, cutting of his sharp laughter as easily as it sounded, his voice echoing like a rumbling thunder in his office, “You can’t seriously expect me to be ‘just be myself’ as you so nicely put it–those hellhounds and sharks will eat me up alive the moment they think I’m acting like an uncultured swine!”

“Who cares what they–”

“I care!–and you have to care–because I assure you, any bad thing that they perceive me to be doing,” Hiro cut in with cold finality, “…will come back to you tenfold, in case you forget.”

“…I haven’t,” she said through gritted teeth.

Hiro leaned away from her (since when was his face inches away from her’s?) as he rubbed at his eyes wearily, “Good. So, now you realize why I’m saying this is a bad idea? How about we just look for someone else as a suitable substitute as your–”

If possible, those eyes of her instantly turned a touch colder, darker before he even finished speaking, making the silver within them appear almost black despite the too-bright lights in Hiro’s office.

“I swear, if you so much as ask me to see another, younger man, I will make a scene right this instant,” Lunamor suddenly hissed, tone dripping with such malice that it almost made Hiro take a step back in alarm. Almost, “I am sick of talking, of being forced to socialize to those ingratiating lot–sono tutti idioti che non conoscono il valore della privacy, figuriamoci quando tacere!”

Hiro doesn't say anything to that, he doesn't know what to say to that. And quite frankly, he didn’t even understand what the hell Lunamor was saying by the conclusion of her mini rant. But he supposed, knowing her, she could be name-calling or spouting insults at him.

Or maybe even curses.

Still, an angry Lunamor is beginning to make Hiro feel uncomfortable. It reminded him too much of a storm just waiting to break. And yet–

And yet…

For some odd reason, despite the fact that she had already issued a threat (that Hiro was so sure she will most likely follow through), he was getting the strangest feeling that Lunamor was actually restraining herself, judging by the way she was gripping her forearms so tightly that he can see the pale skin turning red, with angry marks that could only come from her grip as though in a bid to ground herself from doing something… drastic.

Hiro let out a few breaths to calm himself down for a moment, before slowly making his way around the desk, “Lunamor, let me see.”

She blinks, “…cosa?”

What, Hiro automatically translated this to himself (one of the admittedly few, Italian phrases he painstakingly remembered while browsing the web) as he didn’t wait for her to uncross her arms, grabbing one of them to take a closer look at the reddened skin.

His brows furrowed.

Lunamor had been holding on to her forearms so much, for a bit too long that the skin was red (so startlingly red against a skin so white like her’s) and looking like it had been lightly scratched or something. He can even see the indents where her nails were.

Is Lunamor hiding claws behind those gloves?

No way this didn’t hurt.

As Hiro examined Lunamor’s wounds, turning it this way and that, his mind buzzed and considered her conditions, the offer. She wanted Hiro to go to fancy parties with her as a date.

But here’s a problem, a very big problem: Hiro would make a horrible date–hands down, no questions asked. This is a bad idea. A horrible decision that shouldn’t even be considered in the first place. He wasn’t fooling around or looking for an excuse to back out of their agreement because he seriously had zero idea how to behave in such setting nor did he even have appropriate clothing… at the moment.

“What are you thinking about so much?” Lunamor asked wearily. And Hiro couldn’t understand just how much exhaustion could be put into words.

“That if there was a contest about being the worst-date ever, I’d win first place just by being there,” he deadpanned as he stared back at her.

“You’re not that bad,” Lunamor muttered.

Her voice, no matter how monotone, sounded so sudden, genuine, and so close that it jarred him right out of his thoughts. Gently letting go of her arm, Hiro looked at her and immediately took a step back, his hip hitting the edge of his desk as he did so.

Lunamor furrowed her brows (nothing really escapes her notice) but mercifully said nothing about his clumsy retreat, “…it doesn’t hurt. And you haven’t given me a straight answer.”

Hiro’s eyebrow twitched.

This kid seriously lacked the virtue of patience… although Hiro should probably consider himself lucky that she was actually giving him time to think about his words.

Without a word, Lunamor suddenly began to stalk towards Hiro, causing Hiro to nervously blurt out the first thing that came to mind as he automatically shuffled backwards, “I don't have the right clothes–at least, not right now–to be your date to anything! So, if there’s an impromptu gala you’d have to be real soon, you’re better off going by yourself because I swear I'd look ridiculous standing next to you. People will laugh at me. A-And you wouldn’t want that to happen now, would you?”

She frowns, “That’s not an answer. And–”

“Cassandra Lunamor, I swear, if you so much as suggest that you’ll buy me my own clothes, I will scream,” Hiro told her, half-serious.

And yes, while Lunamor most certainly could, Hiro still didn't want her to spend money on him. It didn’t really sit right with him. But now that he thought about it, Hiro realized that she might not listen to his protests or even agree with his fashion choices.

So, he immediately changed the subject:

“I haven’t been in galas like you, so I seriously have no idea what to expect or to act without making a fool of myself. I don't even know what sort of things you want to me to go to.”

Lunamor still hadn’t bothered to stop walking despite the thin, bloody line dripping from her skin, trailing behind her rather ominously (that’s going to be a bitch to clean, or to explain to the staff) and Hiro hadn’t stopped shuffling backwards just to make some space between them.

And for some absurd yet scary reason, Hiro suddenly feels like a prey about to be cornered. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Four heartbeats later, Hiro’s back met the cool wall with Lunamor standing right in front of him at an arm’s length. She wasn't touching Hiro or even actually crowding him, but those silver gaze of her’s was making Hiro feel trapped, like an insect pinned under the weight of an indifferent magnifying glass.

“It was just a yes or no question, professor,” Lunamor’s gaze didn’t waver, didn’t even blink as she steadily looks at him, “…so quit dancing around the subject. Do we have a deal or not?”