Sometimes It's Better To Just Lodge A Noise Complaint

Mountains were clustered against the horizon ahead of us as we, the woman that had dragged me on this winding journey through forests and across fields, and myself, who didn't have the good sense to ask 'where are we going?', 'how far will it be?', etc., began to fidget under the lightly falling rain, aware that we were now on a vague time limit before we were stuck in a torrential downpour.
Around us were huddles of low-built, wood and stone houses with large, sliding glass doors, obscured by low-hanging Cyprus trees and bushes that clung against the crumbling stone footpath, leading up towards the distant, foggy hills.
A lot of the time in movies or manga, you'll see people get dragged along by their emotions, their gut, or some unspoken sense of 'something romantically ideal is going to happen', but rarely are the in-betweens acknowledged. Running around town with a childhood friend seems idyllic, but what about the long roads of nothing that they have to wander across at risk of slipping in the floodwater, or what about the gross feeling of blisters on your heels after walking around town all day, or even the inevitable silences that pervade conversations.
All these little in-betweens are what I'm experiencing right now.
So the question was, do I suck it up and continue on, or try and lighten the air a little.
A key component of this decision is whether the awkwardness is solely in my corner or not.
It's true, this lady is by nature quiet and reserved, or rather, she knows and is comfortable with the fact that not everything needs to be talked about, and not every space needs to be filled with words. But could I be misinterpreting?
It's definitely possible I just haven't noticed that she really does look for conversation in other people, but I've never had the chance to act along the lines of her wishes.
It's definitely possible that the environment we regularly see each other in means there's little room for that kind of conversation.
Furthermore, it could be a case of completely different sentiments when at work and otherwise, kind of like Genmi.
There's a lot to consider in breaking awkward silences.
I didn't even really have a bearing on how far we were from our destination.
Finally, I decided to test the waters, speak up for the sake of slicing the knife into the stick of butter and, simultaneously, trying to figure out just how much was left on the stick.
"It definitely feels like it's going to rain... How close are we anyway?"
For a moment I was worried by her complete lack of notice, still strolling upwards, her hair jumping against her shoulders and sticking to her dark emerald, wool sweater, but she soon gave me an answer between the clack of her metal boots and with only a slight turn of her head, still aimed directly upwards towards that wet and gleaming final step.
"Actually, we're right here."

I think, before I completely lose myself to the rest of this outing, which honestly, I'm quite looking forward to, now that I see exactly where we are and what we're doing here, I think it's important to remember my place in all this.
That is, this feels too much like the set up to a date, and out of an awkward unfamiliarity with this situation, and a need to ground myself in something before I float away into numbness, my mind is clutching at whatever synapse it can scrounge up right now.
To direct my thoughts a little, I need to firmly hold on to a goal here.
No, not a goal, more like, I need to understand my place here.
Genmi has been taking care of me to a significant degree, and despite her sloppiness, she really is a tightly-wound, considerably astute person. It probably doesn't need to be said, but Genmi and are developing a relationship that fits a pairing of our ages. I have a feeling she's not into younger men anyway.
Kaere, despite everything, or rather, because of everything, was difficult to imagine as anything but herself, that is, an individual without any ties to other people, rather, the kinds of ties that weigh down on her sense of self. She doesn't seem to be a person that cares much for romantic relationships, and most of that emotion is directed towards the world and her friends.
I see now.
Like a man who's inspected the walls enclosing him in, only to find them an illusion of the paint and a whole world sprawling ahead of him, it seems like there's nothing here to hinder me.
That is, if I ignore a lot of the problems buzzing around my head like fruit flies, refused entry into my prefrontal cortex.
Very soon I would be starting preparations and, soon after that, although not in the same hellish fashion as back home, studying would become an important crux of my life again. Was I ready to make a commitment outside of those?
There's also the issue of club membership, which is something to completely disassemble and study another time, and for now we'll settle on a good chunk of time being swallowed by extracurriculars - in some way, the driving force behind my coming here. I haven't acknowledged it much, mostly out of concern for stressing myself out needlessly but, also, in the strange way we humans have of almost wholly forgetting the things most dire to our situations as long as smaller stimuli keep cropping up.
But everything else aside, it's starting to strike me that, as the emotions are beginning to wear off, slip from my skin like a cicada's shell, I may have gotten off on the wrong footing here. Certainly, going out with a member of the opposite sex doesn't necessitate something romantic.
That's right.
Possibly, I might have become worn down by the walk here, and lost myself in trains of thought that aren't even scheduled to leave from this station.
I turned towards the lady who had pulled me along this trip, the large blue traffic light bursting with extra flare against the darkening sky, illuminating the strands of her hair poking out against the grey horizon.
She looked at me with a smile, probably wondering what was up, and just as I was expecting something along the lines of 'aren't you excited for this date?', or 'I can't wait to show you to my cannibal friends', something endearingly normal, plain, and comforting drifted between us instead.
"Let's go buy some books".