Now he was no longer preoccupied as much with Tristan, Hibiki had the chance to check out the set dinner table. The wine red tablecloth, combined with the low light of the candles made everything feel warm and inviting. A small bouquet of red wildflowers amongst evergreen leaves stood in the centre, beside a bottle of chilled water. The strangest thing was that the plates hadn't been set opposite one another: one was set at the head of the table and the other right beside it. He threw an inquiring glance between the plateware and Tristan.

"It's so you don't have to hand your phone across the table when we talk." Tristan said, his smile wavering somewhat, and he appeared uncertain as if breaking a rule. Yet he grinned in response, putting a hand over his own heart and patting it slowly to say he was moved – and that put Tristan at ease enough for him to get enthusiastic about his ideas.

"I thought it would be really nice to talk over dinner. We have all evening, and I asked if they could have less courses so we had more time in between. I know you don't like those overly fancy things anyway." While speaking, Tristan let go of his hand to pull back the chair at the head of the table so he could sit down. Although a part of him wanted to do the same thing for him, he decided not to go against Tristan's plan. Rather he happily flopped down into the chair and nodded.

Somehow he found himself blushing, judging by the heat in his cheeks, as it was clear that Tristan had put in a lot of thought. It felt nice to have someone take everything he wanted into account, rather than to have to go with what others wanted him to do. He wasn't sure if even his parents could be as mindful: as much as they cared, he'd always been dragged along for their dinners and activities.

He never really considered that he enjoyed being taken care of, as he had always done his own thing. In some ways he was still worried about his freedom, but he trusted that Tristan wouldn't impede him, but rather support him.

"I asked for privacy too, so there is just a waiter that will get us what we like. We won't be watched." Tristan smiled at him, and he nodded back happily that he liked that. The heat on his cheeks spread through his entire body, in a way that reminded him a little of being tipsy.

He looked up at Tristan, and for a moment let his eyes linger on his. His smile turned into a deep, relaxed sigh, and he took his hand before making a slight bow to say he was grateful. It wasn't often that he fell back onto Japanese customs, but he wanted the gesture to appear sincere.

"It's nothing after everything you've done for me." Tristan responded with a smile, as his hand moved up and brushed a lock of his hair behind his ear. The gentle touch made him blush even deeper, and he smiled uncharacteristically dumb. It didn't escape him that Tristan seemed to simply know what he meant, and although it was not quite sign language he was glad that he could read him so well. With a fleeting glance up and a shake of his head he tried to say that it was no issue.

"It still matters a lot to me." Tristan answered with a smile, and since he wasn't sure how to respond to that in a way that wasn't dismissive, he relinquished with a nod. He felt Tristan's hand move to his cheek, prompting him to look up.

"You're being unusually cute." Immediately he puffed up his cheeks in defense, but Tristan didn't seem very threatened by it. Rather his hand drifted down so he could gently run his thumb along his chin, all the while endeared by his protest. "You know you're really cute, right?"

The way he said it made it seem so sincere, that even when he disliked being called cute, he felt his heart jump out of sheer joy that Tristan adored him. And then Tristan's lips pressed against his, gently opening and closing and all he could do was follow along. Every thought in his head fled upwards whilst his body fell in love. A soft, high-pitched whine escaped him, and he could only pretend that it was the surprise and a lack of air.

When did you become this fucking hot? He didn't like any of it, as the sudden switch of roles confused him. There was something inside of him that loved Tristan being confident, but it didn't feel comfortable to be in this position. And yet he still kissed him, not wanting to extinguish that rare spark of assertiveness. Not when he had spent a lot of effort to get him to this point.

It was only when Tristan pulled away that he reasserted the right order of things. Placing a hand on the back of his head, he pulled him in and planted a firm kiss on his forehead as if to say he was proud of him. A bashful smile told him that they were back to their ordinary state. I like you better when you're cute.

He grinned, and sat back up, picking up his fork and holding it upright to demand their dinner. Tristan smiled at him and picked up a small silver bell, the very same they used to request items at breakfast. Enthusiastically he rang it, summoning the waiter.

Although he was very aware that his parents would disapprove, he pointed at a glass of red wine on the menu. If there was ever a time to try it, then surely this was it, as there would be no negative consequences other than perhaps disliking it.

"So how was your day with your father?" Tristan asked, pouring out a glass of water for both of them. He shrugged to say it was alright. For a little while he wrote back an answer, comfortable doing it at his own pace rather than hurry along.

'It was okay. Dad and I like very different things, but he tries his best. Talking about my hobbies makes him nervous, although I remember when we were young he drove us around in his Ferrari.'

He vividly remembered it being a red Ferrari, and a warm summer day. The roof had been open and he and Hayate were strapped in the backseat, enjoying the wind and the sight of the coast.

"Your dad did?" Tristan asked incredulously, and he couldn't fault him for not believing that. He smiled and nodded, but then let out a soft sigh as the memory was sweet but the knowledge that it would never happen again had seeped in.

'Dad used to be cool, a little bit like I am now. But after everything he became very scared of loss. Mom did too for a while, but dad definitely changed the most. He cares for me a lot, it's just that I don't think he sees me as an adult either. And I suspect he feels responsible for what happened, so he tries to be responsible now, when I'd rather have a little bit more of who he was'

While Tristan read the message, he silently bit down on his lip thinking about what he had just written down. He'd never really considered his father as more than an antagonist, one with good intentions and who loved him dearly, but oppressive regardless – now he wrote it out it seemed obvious why. Perhaps because of the distance between them he never really looked further than this mystic force that sometimes scolded or grounded him over video chat. Tristan's hand on his startled him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry," the latter mumbled sheepishly, but he shook his head and gave him a soft squeeze. "I do think your parents love you a lot. When we set all this up they were very helpful and they'd do anything to make you happy. Maybe they need a bit more time to recover from what happened too?"

Hibiki chuckled, somewhat amused by the idea that he was more sane than his parents. But that did make a lot of sense, as he was the one that got all the resources to improve. Whilst he had never seen his parents ask for help, other than perhaps with each other or vicariously through his appointments. A smile spread on his face as a wild idea popped up in his head.

'I should give my parents therapy sessions'

Tristan chuckled, but their conversation was interrupted by the ding of the elevator announcing their first course.