Andrew had been in many strange places, but he had never, not once, sat in a private cinema that looked like something out of a futuristic mansion magazine. The plush recliners were arranged in two tiers, the walls curved like a wave with sound panels hidden behind sleek designs, and the screen? Well, it wasn't really a screen at all—it was the entire wall, alive with the flicker of a film Andrew hadn't even picked.
"Come on, sit next to me."
Tina chirped, already curled into her chair with a massive blanket that looked far too soft and expensive to exist in the normal human world. Neko Neko had claimed his own miniature beanbag near her feet, paws kneading into the fabric like he was testing ownership. Andrew sighed, dragging his feet as if sitting down was a huge burden, though the seat practically swallowed him in comfort.
"You know, most people just… stream movies on a laptop. Or a TV. You don't need an entire theater for it."
Tina's lips twitched.
"Why settle for less when you can have more?"
She tucked herself deeper into the blanket, eyes sparkling in the dim glow of the opening credits. Andrew rolled his eyes but said nothing. The truth was, everything about this girl screamed excess. The way the surround sound shifted like an invisible hand moving across the room, the little tray of snacks at each chair—popcorn in gold-rimmed bowls, sodas that weren't from any brand Andrew had ever seen, and—good grief—tiny frosted cupcakes with cartoon koalas drawn on top. And her phone. She hadn't put it down once, that ridiculous, impossibly sleek rectangle with folding glass that curved into shapes Andrew didn't even think physics allowed. Every so often, she tapped at it quickly, the screen glowing like some kind of crystal panel.
"What is that thing?"
Andrew muttered finally, nodding toward her hands.
"Oh."
Tina said innocently, as if she hadn't been sneaking peeks at him all along.
"just a phone."
"That is not a phone. That's… that's a spaceship. That's a weapon. That's a—"
He paused, squinting as the phone expanded into a small tablet with a flick.
"—That's witchcraft, Tina."
Tina pressed her lips together, fighting a grin.
"You're so dramatic and it's not even morning."
She tilted her head, long hair brushing her shoulders as her eyes flicked toward him, quick, almost secret. He wasn't looking though—too busy inspecting the ridiculous candy assortment like he might uncover a bomb under the marshmallows. Inside, Tina's heart thumped. She wanted to watch the movie, she really did, but the whole room blurred every time Andrew shifted, every time he ran a hand through his hair or muttered at the screen. She'd already decided—her mission was to make Andrew fall for her. But now, in this dark little cocoon with the world drowned out by rain pattering outside and a giant movie screen casting soft light on his profile, she realized something dangerous. She'd already fallen further.
"Stop staring."
Andrew said suddenly, without looking at her. Tina flinched, heat rushing to her cheeks.
"I-I wasn't staring."
"You were. I could feel it."
His voice was sharp, but not cruel—more like he was afraid to turn his head and confirm it. Tina shoved popcorn into her mouth, cheeks puffing like a squirrel.
"I was just… checking if you were enjoying yourself."
"I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm not."
"You didn't even complain about the chair once, so yes you are."
Andrew groaned, dragging his hand down his face.
"You are so—"
He cut himself off, slouching further, and reached for the popcorn anyway. Tina smirked, victorious, as the screen flickered brighter. She leaned back, blanket pulled up to her chin, pretending to watch. But her eyes wandered again. Just a glance. Just a little peek. And every time she thought she'd been subtle, Andrew shifted—never calling her out this time, but she swore she could see the faintest curve of a smile tugging at his lips in the glow of the movie. Neko Neko, from his beanbag, blinked his wide eyes between them. To him, the movie didn't matter. The snacks didn't matter. All that mattered was the quiet dance happening in the silence—Tina sneaking glances, Andrew pretending not to notice, and both of them inching closer without realizing it. The movie played on. The storm outside whispered against the windows. And inside, Tina dared to hope her plan was working—one glance, one smirk, one tiny moment at a time. Half an hour into the movie, Andrew was still grumbling. It wasn't loud, not the kind of dramatic fuss he usually made behind the bar, but little mutters under his breath every time the plot twisted into something absurd.
"Why would anyone open a cursed box twice? Once wasn't enough?"
"That guy's haircut should be illegal."
"Great, another slow-motion scene—because the first four weren't painful enough."
Tina, wrapped like a cocoon in her oversized blanket, pressed her lips together to keep from giggling out loud. Every complaint, every sarcastic aside—it wasn't ruining the movie. It was making it better. Andrew's voice filled the empty space between thunder outside and the low hum of surround sound. And maybe, Tina thought, her cinema had never felt this alive.
"You're enjoying this."
She whispered finally.
Andrew shot her a look.
"I am obviously not."
"You are."
"Am not."
"You ate three cupcakes."
"…They were small."
Tina grinned, but her gaze slipped sideways again—back to him, the curve of his jaw in the flickering light, the way his lashes caught shadows. Her heart thumped so loud she thought it might drown out the dialogue on screen. And then—like fate, like the universe had pressed a fast-forward button—thunder boomed so violently that the lights trembled overhead. Neko Neko jolted, fluffing up like a fuzzy storm cloud. He darted across the room and buried himself between Tina's blanket and her legs, letting out an offended squeak. Tina jumped too, blanket sliding off her shoulders.
"Wah—!"
Andrew startled, half-rising from his recliner.
"Relax, it's fine—"
Another boom. The windows rattled. Without thinking, Tina reached out. Her blanket fell to the floor, but her fingers curled tight around Andrew's sleeve, knuckles whitening as she clung. For a second, silence. Only the rain hammering the world outside. Then Andrew looked down at her hand gripping him. Looked at her wide eyes, her lip caught between her teeth, her shoulders tense like she was bracing for the ceiling to cave in.
"…Tina."
His voice softened, losing the sharp edge he usually wore.
"It's literally just a storm."
"I really hate storms."
She whispered, barely audible. And before Andrew could retreat, before his instincts screamed at him to put space between them, Tina scooted closer. Her knees brushed his, her hand didn't just hold his sleeve—it slid down, tangled in his fingers. The contact was small. Innocent, almost. But Andrew's chest tightened like someone had locked a chain around it. His omega instincts tugged, tugged hard, whispering of comfort, of warmth, of keeping her safe. His brain, however, screamed the opposite. Don't get attached. Don't fall for her. Don't-Another boom. Tina's head dropped onto his shoulder. Andrew froze.
~Oh my god...this is the perfect scenario in those movies, the storm the movie...No! I've gotta get away.~
Her hair smelled faintly of vanilla and something fresh, like cold air after rain. Her body was warm where it pressed against his side, a soft weight that melted tension he hadn't realized he was holding.
"…You're heavy."
He muttered weakly, trying to cling to the last shard of sass in him.
"You're mean."
She whispered back, voice muffled into his shirt. But she didn't move. And, slowly, carefully, Andrew didn't either. The movie flickered on, forgotten. Neko Neko peeked out from the folds of blanket at their legs, tilting his fuzzy head in confusion before curling up again, apparently satisfied with his upgraded heater arrangement. Minutes passed like that. Tina clinging. Andrew stiff at first, then gradually—against every instinct screaming in his head—letting himself relax. Letting his shoulder lean into hers. Letting his hand, still trapped in hers, squeeze just once. And Tina, eyes fluttering shut, thought hazily.
~He didn't pull away.~
For her, that tiny detail was bigger than the storm outside. For Andrew, it was dangerous. Because in the warmth of that silence, with her heartbeat faint against his arm and the storm reduced to background noise, he realized maybe—just maybe—this engagement wasn't going to be the disaster he swore it would be. But just Maybe. The movie reached its halfway point, but Tina had stopped paying attention completely. She shifted again in her seat, the blanket slipping as she leaned sideways. Andrew had already scolded her once for 'hogging the fabric like a greedy penguin', but now she used it as her excuse. She tugged the blanket gently, making it fall over his lap.
"There."
She whispered.
"Now you won't complain about being cold."
"I wasn't cold."
Andrew grumbled, trying to push it back.
"Yes, you were. Your arms get goosebumps easily. I noticed."
That shut him up. He clenched his jaw, staring hard at the screen, as if focusing on the bad CGI monster could erase the fact that she noticed that much. Tina smiled to herself, shifting closer under the shared cover. Their shoulders brushed now, a little bump every time either of them moved.
"Why are you looking at me?"
Andrew asked suddenly, not turning his head.
"Because you're prettier than the movie."
Tina said without hesitation. Andrew choked on his soda.
"Wh—Tina!"
"What?"
She tilted her head, innocent as a child, though her grin gave her away.
"That's not—You can't just—"
He gestured wildly, words failing him for once.
"I can. And I did."
She reached for the popcorn, deliberately brushing her fingers against his. He pulled back too late, cheeks burning.
"This is harassment."
Hve muttered, sinking lower in his recliner.
"This is affection."
She corrected, leaning closer. Andrew groaned, covering his face with one hand.
"You're unbelievable."
"Not impossible?"
Tina beamed, resting her chin on his shoulder as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"But you always say I'm impossible though?"
Andrew ignored her.
The slight scent of her pheromones—sweet, light, oddly comforting—filled his senses. Andrew's omega instincts hummed beneath his skin, demanding he let her stay there, demanding he soften. And he almost did. Almost.
"You're going to give people the wrong idea."
He said quietly, though his voice lacked bite.
"There's no one here but you and me."
Her words lingered in the space between them. The massive cinema suddenly felt too small, the world outside too far away. Just them, the flickering glow, and the soft rhythm of her leaning against him as if she belonged there. Andrew swallowed hard, staring at the screen but not seeing it.
"Don't get used to this."
He said finally.
"I'm not going to fall for you, Tina."
Her breath caught. She lifted her head, searching his face. Andrew kept his eyes forward, mask back in place, as if the words weren't burning him from the inside out.
"…We'll see."
Tina whispered, a mischievous spark in her eyes even as her chest tightened. Because she wasn't giving up. Not when she'd already decided back then that he was hers to win. She leaned back against him, lighter this time, not forcing but simply existing in the space between. And though Andrew told himself he wouldn't move, wouldn't respond—his hand, hidden under the blanket, curled ever so slightly toward hers. It wasn't enough for Tina. But it was something. And something was more than nothing. The movie rolled on, long forgotten, while their silent war continued—her persistence against his walls, her warmth against his stubborn distance. And beneath it all, the tiniest thread of connection pulled tighter, tying them closer no matter how much Andrew swore it wasn't happening.
Neko Neko's mini theater🐨🐨
I glare at the glowing box. The screen. That glowing rectangle that somehow has captured Tina and Andrew's attention more than me. Me! The fluffiest, most dramatic creature in this entire mansion. How dare they ignore me?
Tina is sitting there, eyes glued, fingers tapping on the remote, lips moving like she's singing along or—ugh!—laughing at something Andrew did. Andrew, the sassy omega with his ridiculous smirk, leaning just slightly too close, whispering something into Tina's ear… while I'm left on the floor.
I flop dramatically onto my side, tail flicking like a metronome of betrayal. Do they not see me? I emit the faintest growl of indignation—soft, subtle, very 'I'm not happy' growl—but apparently, it's completely ignored.
I nudge a nearby pillow with my paw. Nothing. No acknowledgment. I huff and flick a paw at the floor, making a small crash. Tina glances down for half a second, mutters "Neko Neko…" and then goes right back to the screen. THE SCREEN.
I curl my little koala body into a ball, ears twitching furiously. This is injustice. I consider my options:
Option one: climb onto Tina's lap and make her feel my fluffy wrath. Risky, but effective.
Option two: leap onto Andrew's lap, claw gently (just a tiny reminder of my presence).
Option three: perform the dramatic sulk roll across the rug, tail high, eyes narrowed.
I choose option three. Dramatic. Perfectly executed. Tail flick, ears flat, flop. Still ignored.
I huff again, louder this time. Maybe if I stomp my tiny koala feet—like a mini thunderstorm—they'll finally notice.
Finally, I decide to take action. Slowly, I creep toward the glowing rectangle, my paws barely making a sound… until I poke it with one claw. Tina gasps, Andrew jumps, and I grin (if koalas could grin). Victory? No. They both stare at the screen, then at me, then back at the screen. Ugh. Infuriating.
I flop back onto the rug, paws over my face, tail flicking furiously. I may be small, but my dramatic flair is unmatched. I will survive this… somehow. But mark my words: next time they dare watch 'the glowing box' instead of cuddling me, chaos will ensue. Tiny paw chaos. Dramatic sulk chaos. Maybe even a snack-theft chaos.
For now, I stay sprawled, sulking, plotting, watching their faces light up with whatever silly thing is happening on the screen. And secretly… just a little… I kind of like seeing them smile.
But don't tell anyone. That's strictly top-secret fluffy feelings.
Curtain closes. Neko Neko remains sprawled on the rug, sulky, dramatic, and entirely unimpressed with the glowing rectangle.