Do You Perhaps Need a Real Estate Agent? No, Thanks

Hortensja was waiting in front of the hotel on the weekend when they had arranged to view Hikaru's apartment. The girl was impatient, still not believing that the question that had come out so randomly had led her to this moment. She wasn't afraid of living with a man; she had more than enough experience of that, and yet she felt excited, as if she were moving out of the family nest for the first time. She rocked nervously on her heels, wondering if she hadn't overdone it with getting too ready for this meeting. The Pole was glad that they could finally meet on the weekend and spend a little more time together; she appreciated those moments, but she was secretly counting on this one as well.

The Japanese waved at her as soon as he noticed her and quickened his pace, and she also started walking in his direction. They stopped in front of each other, unsure of what they should do and how much they could afford. Was a hug an appropriate form of greeting, or maybe it could have been a kiss, or was it best to leave it without any specific action? Hortensja got a little carried away and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek and then looked at him closely. After all, she had the chance to do so in the daylight. Hikaru was looking around at the same time to make sure no one had seen them, which was impossible in the middle of the sidewalk, which was used by quite a few people in both directions 24/7.

“Horteni, you can't do things like that,” he announced, surprised, but seemingly in a reprimanding tone, although deep down he was jumping for joy and didn't even care how visible it was on his cheeks.

The girl didn't look offended, but she kept some distance. She didn't expect that the gesture that seemed natural to her, after all, was how she greeted even her extended family, was not so welcomed. However, she decided not to let it show on her face, but to remember it and keep it in mind in the future.

“I understand,” she replied shortly, and asked in which direction they had to go.

Hikaru pointed, and they set off at a walking pace towards the train. Hortensja tried to guess how tall he was, because he wasn't much taller than her, and she had to admit that he looked completely different than in a suit. And she probably preferred him more in this casual version, although the looser clothes hid his slim figure more. She smiled every time he looked at her. Glad that she had more seconds to admire his dark, almost black irises. She noticed that he had also styled his hair differently; now she could see in the sun that it was a very dark shade of brown. She also noticed a small mole on the right side and tried her best to look at it even more closely, since it had been hidden behind the fringe so far.

However, the man wanted to smooth things over and tore her from her thoughts about himself.

“I'm not saying you can't do it at all, just not in public,” he continued to explain, but he didn't admit that he was afraid it would discourage her from kissing him at all.

“I got carried away,” the girl laughed. “But what could I do since I'm dating such a handsome guy?”

“I'm not.” Hikaru's cheeks returned to normal only for a moment. They burned bright red again.

“I decide who is in my,” she emphasized this word. “Opinion handsome and who is not.”

“But admit that I'm not your type.”

“Partially. You don't have light eyes, and the rest is quite right.” Hortensja smiled and decided to ask how it looked from a man's perspective. “Do you like girls with foreign beauty?”

“I wouldn't say so, but you are an exception.”

He watched her reactions carefully and was relieved that he hadn't offended her. Of course, love is blind, so for now he looked at her and the world through rose-tinted glasses, but sometimes common sense advised him to look at his chosen one more critically. She seemed sincere to him then and clearly didn't need a perfect love story, the assumptions of which he might not live up to.

They reached his apartment shortly afterward. Hortensja carefully looked around the area but refrained from commenting. She was afraid that if she emphasized how much she liked it, Hikaru might feel pressured, and she'd rather avoid it. Although he agreed that they should move in together, it didn't mean for her that it had to happen right away. Still, she felt it would be nice to leave the hotel, because she would never feel at home there, even if she made friends with the staff, especially the older security guard.

When they entered, Hortensja guessed that they had to take off their shoes, which for her was a certainty after entering the house. The Japanese looked at her in surprise but laughed and offered slippers for the guests.

“I thought I would have to ask you to do that.”

“No, we do that too. We just didn't come up with such a brilliant invention as this small space here.” She pointed to a part of the corridor by the door, which was lower than the rest of the apartment. “It reminds me of home.”

She went further and couldn't believe how it was possible to function properly in a tiny kitchen, or rather something that resembled a kitchenette, which was part of a small living room. What really caught her eye was that the apartment was sparkling clean. Hikaru wasn't a pedant, but he had put a lot of effort into cleaning before her visit. If she had to describe what she saw for now, she would use words like minimalist and maybe not, just sterile, but also not very cozy. She didn't like the accumulation of knick-knacks, but a few sensibly chosen ones always made the room look nicer.

Additionally, there was a bedroom with a bed and a huge wardrobe, and a separate toilet and bathroom, which confused Hortensja the most. She didn't have one in the hotel, but she noticed that the guests there were mainly foreigners, so she assumed that for this reason they used a more Western style. She looked around for some photos; she noticed one on a low bookshelf. The Pole looked at the two adults, between whom stood a young boy, and recognized him as Hikaru. She smiled and also looked at the titles, which meant nothing to her. She sat down on the couch, and a moment later there was tea on the table.

“And how do you like it?” asked the young man, taking the seat next to her. “Haven't you changed your mind yet?”

“No, it's great, but it's clear that you don't have the opportunity to spend too much time here," she summed up briefly and took a sip of tea.

“So do you want to move in to liven up this place a bit?” he joked.

“If you don't withdraw your consent yet, I'd be happy to. Can I buy a few things? I don't want to be bossy. At least not at first,” she added warningly.

“You won't be worse than my superior at work. Do you want to go shopping today?”