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Monday
It was the afternoon when Tanjirou first tried asking Zenitsu to the dance.
He looked at himself in the mirror, breathed in deep and scrunched up his nose as he put on the bravest face he could muster. His sister pat him on the shoulder in solidarity, giving him a smile. The dance was on Friday, so it was a now or never scenario. He checked himself again, giving himself a once over, and then another once over on his index cards just to be sure, before puffing up his chest and walking out the bathroom, and straight into the gym.
Tanjirou pulled all the stops: a dessert pastry from his parent’s bakery that was as decadent as possible–– a small, round piece of chocolate and strawberry cake, garnished with peaches and a dressed with a little chocolate ganache–– that he hid in his bag, a nice coffee to go with it, and a card that said the words “Would you go to the dance with me?”
It was fool proof.
However, there was just one big issue.
He pushed his way into the gym, watching as different students milled around, carrying an array of crepe paper and smelling a distressing mix of cheap, sour poster paint, and the oddly sweet smell of copious amounts of glue stick. There were different streamers, all in different shades of white and blue to go with the winter theme, and a surprising amount of glitter was strewn haphazardly on the floor.
In the middle of this chaos, however, with splashes of blue paint on his yellow sweater, and glitter all over blond hair, was Zenitsu, fluttering about in mild–– well, for him, at least–– distress as he attended to every single mini catastrophe that seem to pop up every time his back was turned.
Tanjirou couldn’t help swallowing down the odd feeling in his throat as he shifted his bag containing everything he was going to need closer to himself. There was a sudden heat crawling up his whole body, but it was just low and simmering enough that he pushed past it, and walked up to his friend. He breathed in deeply, ready to say something, when Zenitsu turned towards him, and with barely a moment to lose, gave a sharp cry of relief.
“Tanjirou! Thank god, you’re here! I’ve been having the worst day, and it’s only going to get worse from here! There’s four days–– four days!–– left until the dance, and I’m already about to lose it!” He cried out as he ran a hand through his hair. He pulled his hand away, gawked in horror at the sheer amount of blue glitter that stuck to his hand. “Look at this! Look at my hand! I swear, Mr. Giyuu better appreciate the work we’re doing considering he’s running us ragged!”
Tanjirou blinked, trying his best to relay the information that was just dropped on him, before he smiled shakily at his friend. “Well, it looks like you’re doing incredible. Look at the gym, it’s––”
“A complete mess!”
“––Getting there. I was going to say getting there!”
Zenitsu huffed, jutting his lip out and blinking rapidly to get the tears out.
“Why are you here anyhow?” he asked, shaking his hand and hair of any of that excess glitter, but it looked to be making the entire thing worse in the process. Tanjirou felt bad, and he brushed a hand through the other’s hair, trying to get it off, feeling Zenitsu stiffen slightly under his careful hand.
He tried not to think too deeply about that. He smiled at his work as most of the glitter left his hair and transferred to the floor.
“There,” he said with a smile, shaking his hand once he was done. He cleared his throat, backtracking to Zenitsu’s previous question before he got ahead of himself. “I was just going to, uh. Here.”
His friend’s eyes widened. “Coffee?”
“Yeah, from that place you like, remember?”
Zenitsu started to sniffle, a smile pulling at his features.
“Oh, and this thing from my parent’s bakery––”
“Tanjirou! This is the best! I’m going to cry. No, too late! I’m already crying––”
“Actually, I was hoping to ask you something,” Tanjirou said, cutting in before his friend burst into tears. He felt for the index card in his bag, but he couldn't seem to find it, and his mind was blanking. He opened his mouth, feeling for the words, trying to get it out of his system. He could vividly remember the words written on that little, well worn index card in his mind’s eye, and the ghost of the supporting pat from his sister still lingered.
“Do you want to go to the dance with me?”
Ten simple words.
He took a breath, and:
“Do you need help preparing for the dance?!”
Zenitsu blinked at him in surprise, and he did the same.
What.
Wednesday
Tanjirou did not succeed in asking his friend out on Monday, so he’s starting to doubt he’ll be able to do it today, either. He spent the entire Monday afternoon with Aoi’s disappointed stare searing into the back of his head as he helped Zenitsu put up banners by holding the ladder steady for him. He didn’t dare try again, but he did tell Nezuko about it the moment he came home.
He had been pastry-less, coffee-less, and date-less. However, the smile on Zenitsu’s face when he gave him those gifts were enough to dissuade much of the shame he felt when he came home. Tanjirou wanted to do that again, so he got his friend another coffee and pastry–– just as decadent as the last one–– and walked up to him during lunch.
He wasn’t there during lunch.
“Inosuke,” he said with a smile, taking a seat next to his friend, and turning his head every which way to see if he could glimpse the familiar head of blond hair in the crowd. There was no one. “Have you seen Zenitsu?”
“Huh?” he replied, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion before shrugging helplessly up at Tanjirou, who felt his heart sink to his stomach. Inosuke reached for the dessert in his hands, and he pushed his hand away, giving him a stern look, making the other huff, shaking his head. “You’re going to ask him out again, aren’t you?”
Tanjirou felt his face flush, but he nodded all the same. “Yeah! Though I can’t seem to find him anywhere...” His friend reached for his lunch instead this time, and he let him, watching as he started to pick up the shrimp his mom packed for him, popping it into his mouth.
Inosuke hummed half heartedly in response. “Student council stuff,” he said through a mouthful of food.
Of course.
He bit the inside of his cheek, but he could already feel the bubbles of disappointment start. “I’ll just wait for him to show up then,” he said, sighing. He shooed his friend from his lunch before picking at the carcass of it–– which was mostly rice, and one shrimp–– and kept a watchful eye for blond hair at the doors.
He didn’t show up, but he left his gifts on his friend’s desk as he left to get to his class.
Friday
Zenitsu gave out a soft puff of air as he looked around, admiring the work he’s done. There were streamers up on the ceiling, all a shade of soft blue and white that complemented the snow that started to fall outside in clumps. There was music, there was dancing, there were lights that made his sleep deprived head hurt, and they were all under the budget. Other than the disaster that was Wednesday and earlier, there was not much that had gone wrong.
In all intents and purposes, it was a success.
He collapsed into the seat behind the registration desk and let out a hysterical laugh. It was finally over. He closed his eyes, feeling the pain of the headache not exactly receding, but he allowed himself time to calm down. He just needed to breathe a bit.
“You look like you got hit by a truck, Prez,” Aoi said, straightening up the registration folders on the table, so that they were a neat pile just off to the side instead of splayed all across it. She looked fine, which was just unfair. Apparently she developed an important skill called time management.
“Planning and executing a dance in one week?” he said as he shook his head, tilting his head backwards so that some of his headache was eased by the cool metal of the chair. “We are never doing that again.”
“Of course not,” she replied, shaking his head at him as she moved to stand. She was wearing a really pretty dress, he noted dully. Zenitsu couldn’t help but feel like he’s forgetting something very important. “There’s only so many of your breakdowns I can handle in a week.”
“I broke down once–– ”
“Thrice in the past hour alone.”
“––which isn’t that bad.”
“You accidentally dropped the marker we were using to write names and then burst into tears!”
“I’m tired, okay?!”
Aoi rolled her eyes, flattening the dress and her hair down with a sigh. She picked up her bag, and turned her gaze to him. She narrowed her eyes at him, assessing him with a careful gaze. “Do you even have a date to this?”
Oh.
“I forgot to get a date!” he screeched, turning a few heads in the process, but he didn’t care. He was too tired to care. He groaned, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until he could see stars. “How could I have forgotten??”
She blinked in surprise. “You mean he didn’t––”
“Who didn’t?”
She sighed, exasperated, before turning around and heading to the dance proper. “That idiot.”
Zenitsu huffed, watching her go. He had no idea what she was going on about, but apparently he was missing something entirely. He stood up, pressing his hands over the rumpled suit that his gramps just had to insist put him in. It was not the best looking thing, but far be it for him to go against Kuwajima. He tucked the chair under the table, and turned to leave.
“Zenitsu.”
He stopped, turning around and seeing Tanjirou standing in front of him, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. He was smiling at him, shy and a little nervous. The words Aoi spoke dawned on him suddenly, and he realized with a groan.
“You’ve been trying to ask me to the dance.”
He bit his lip. “This past week, yes.”
“All those pastries––”
“And the coffee.”
Zenitsu laughed, feeling the idiocy sinking into him. “I didn’t notice.”
“I was going to ask on Monday, but…” Tanjirou looked away, and he could see, even under the dark lights of the dance that his face was burning with shame. He stepped closer, remembering that moment. He was confused, but he just figured it was him being a good friend, as always. Same with the coffee, and the cake. They were both idiots, and he wanted to cry.
“Do you want to go to the dance with me?” Zenitsu blurted out once he was a good three feet away from the other. His friend blinked in surprise before his mouth widened into a smile.
“Of course.”