each day that passed made him feel farther and farther away from her and he fucking hated that. there were so many things he wanted to tell her but couldn’t. so many little things reminded him of her, but maybe they only reminded him of her because he’d look for her in everything. who knows?

the days melt into weeks, months, years. he’d keep himself busy in any way he could to stop any and all negative thoughts to occur, thoughts that made him wish it had himself and not her and thoughts that make him want to do nothing more than join her on the other side. no, stop it. just gotta finish up this one thing and i can have another smoke break.

it wasn’t until his 20s that he decided he’d try dating again. takashi helped him set up a dating app profile and even helped him talk to some of the girls. each date would end up the same, though- he’d end up mentioning emma, the rest of the night would be silent, and afterward he’d receive messages along the lines of, “you’re a really sweet guy, but i’m not sure you’re ready to move on just yet and that’s okay.”

maybe it was fate. he despised that word after what had happened, but maybe it was. your car was pulled over on the side of the road, your hazards blinking as smoke comes out of the hood. being a mechanic, leaving a lady stranded on the side of the road in a car that looks like it’s about to explode the last thing ken would ever do. he got out his car and popped the hood open, waving the smoke out of his face. “looks like an overheated engine. i can fix her up for you,” he tells you.

“thank you so much,” you let out a sigh of relief. what ken didn’t know was that for the past couple days, minor inconveniences had been quickly piling up and ruining your mood and this stupid fucking car was the cherry on top. you were seconds away from a mental breakdown when you heard him tap on your window, fighting back tears as he gestured for you to roll your window down.

he had been running behind schedule that morning and was late for work, yet he still waited with you for roadside assistance to show up and bring your car to his shop. when they arrive, you were given the option to either ride in the three seated tow truck or with ken in his pickup truck. naturally, you’d rather not ride in a tow truck squished between two strange men, so you opted to ride with the samaritan who had pulled over to help you. ken leads the way to the shop, the tow truck close behind him.

after fixing your engine and giving you a discount on it, he had given you a business card for the shop before sending you on your way. he wrote his personal phone number down on the back- just in case you didn’t like talking on the phone, of course. his handwriting was shit, but he made sure the numbers were legible ans had even waited a bit for the pen ink to dry so you wouldn’t end up accidentally texting a wrong number.

as fate would have it, the two of you began to run into each other after that. at the grocery store, restaurants, gas stations, you name it. each time he’d ask you if your car was still running okay and he’d remind you that you have his phone number in case you need anything at all. after each run in with you, he’d head back to his messy apartment and check his phone just to see if you had texted. he wasn’t exactly sure why he was waiting for a message from you as he knew full well that if you did text him, it would be about your car troubles.

the first time you finally texted him, you needed your oil changed and he was happy to do it for you the following morning, once again giving you a discount. the next time, you had been pulled over for a broken tail light and let off on a warning. that same night, he had arrived to your place at nearly midnight with a new bulb for your tail light, fixing it free of charge.

the third time, though, you were feeling a bit bold and asked him if he had any plans for the upcoming weekend. his eyes widened as he read the message, his heart racing. after about 20 ish minutes staring at his phone, he had finally replied to say he did not in fact have anything planned. you wanted to treat him to dinner for his kindness. after a bit of back and forth bickering about who was going to pay, he finally gives in and replies to you:

that’ll be the first and last time i let a lady pay for me.

no hesitation, no worries, not even a hint of regret about the implication that there would be a next time. just playful banter. of course, as each day leading up to saturday passed, the anxiety and guilt crept up again. as saturday evening approached, he showered and put on his nicest button up t-shirt as well as one of his few pairs of jeans that weren’t stained with motor oil, not wanted to be overdressed or underdressed depending on where the hell you were taking him.

the night started off as expected- the two of you sat down at your table, one of you talked while the other listened. you told each other about what you do for work and in your free time. then, the conversation would shift to your dating lives. inevitably, he would mention his late girlfriend to you, opening up about how he hadn’t really been with anyone serious since her. it’s not like they were broken up, so he feels like he’s cheating on her any time he tries, so he had sort of given up. even so, there was that nagging voice in the back of his head that would tell him that there’s no point in trying again because there’s a chance it’ll just happen all over again.

“i’m so sorry,” you tell him, a sentence he’s heard one too many times before. only, it was different coming from you, no uncomfortable squirming, no breaking eye contact, no awkward silence for the rest of dinner.

“what was she like?”

he was taken aback by the question a bit. none of his past dates had ever asked him about her. he told you all about how they had met, how she used to be so shy around him up until she had confessed her feelings for him. he’ll save the depressing details for another day, but the two of you continued to hit it off.

“at least let me get the tip, y/n,” he had told you with a playful pout on his lips, “i feel bad makin’ you pay.”

“you’re not making me do anything. i volunteered to- hey!”

he placed a $10 bill on the table. “i’m tipping.”

“well, i already wrote it down on the ticket,” you showed him the bill that you had already signed, complete with an additional $10 tip.

“guess the waiter’s gettin’ a good tip tonight then,” he teased with a smirk.

the days melted into weeks, months. you two continued you see each other outside of his place of work. you were more than happy to take it slow, go at his pace as he navigated his feelings. as he began to open up to you, he grew even more comfortable with you. he’d begin mindlessly wrap an arm around you while the two of you would watch movies together, letting you sleep on his shoulder and then carrying you to bed, and capturing your lips into a tender kiss the following morning because you just look so beautiful even if you did sleep in the clothes you wore yesterday and your hair is a mess. he started to realize he wasn’t working himself too hard anymore and hadn’t even felt the urge to pick up a cigarette in ages.

when it came to dating, his buddies would tell him for the longest time that emma would just want him to be happy, whether he found that happiness on his own or with a new partner. he could never grasp that concept until now. emma was gone and couldn’t come back, and looking for her in everyone he met only made him feel worse when he stopped to think about it. once he was able to break that habit and started looking for other things that could make him happy, you came along.