Aone's Romance || Aone Takanobu x Reader

T W E L V E

Saturday. The day (L/n) had both looked forward to and dreaded. The day that she would meet the dean of Stanford.

This was something she had dreamed of since childhood, to be accepted into a good college, get to continue to play soccer, and even travel a bit. It used to be a dream, but now it was some horrible gut wrenching nightmare. No longer a dream but something much more dreadful.

(L/n) wore a pencil skirt, something she would never wear on her own, but her father insisted. He claimed that it made her look more professional. She wore one of her mother's shirts, something her father had thrown onto her bed while she was sleeping.

The shirt still had her mother's smell somehow, it still smelled like the expensive perfume she used to use. It smelled like the women that (L/n) used to hug at a young age, it smelled like the woman that used to make cookies at three in the morning because she was in the mood, it smelled like the woman that no longer existed.

"(F/n)? Are you ready?" Her father called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, I'm coming!" She answered, stepping into the kitchen with a small nervous smile.

Her father turned to get a look at her, and he smiled brightly when he took in her appearance. "You look just like your mom." He smiled, his shaven face seeming to show a whole other person.

He didn't reek of alcohol today, his shirt didn't have any brown stains, and he had even sprayed on a fresh smelling cologne.

He looked good, he looked healthy.

"You think so?" (L/n) asked quietly, running her fingers over her skirt. "Yeah. You look beautiful." He answered, a proud smile on his face before he left a gentle kiss on her forehead. A kiss that didn't smell like liquor.

"Alright, let's go before we're late, kiddo." He cheered, clapping his hands together.

***

(L/n) tried her hardest to stop her fingers from shaking violently, and to keep the heel of her shoe from clocking aggressively against the marble floor, but it was pointless. She was beyond nervous.

She had been instructed by Mr. Mori that they would meet at a restaurant, a fancy one that (L/n) had never been to.

The restaurant was decorated elegantly, riddled with small figurines of famous sculptures, and old wooden chairs and tables, but she expected nothing less from someone with such a high standing at a prestigious school.

"(L/n) (F/n)?" Her name was called out by a tall man standing in a tux with a menu in his hand. The girl quickly rose to her feet, maybe to quickly because she became a little lightheaded, and nodded her head. "That's me." Her voice came out incredibly shakey.

"Follow me." The waiter spoke, leading her to a small table with three chairs and a man already sitting in one. He too was dressed in a tux, but his looked ten times more expensive, and his hair was slicked back perfectly.

"Mrs. (L/n), please take a seat." The man smiled, his voice was smooth and silky, and she was sure that many of the women in this building probably adored him.

He spoke English, and it suddenly made (L/n) feel extremely anxious. While she did take an English class, and could understand most of it, and even speak a few words, her English was far from perfect.

(L/n) pushed herself sit in one of the chairs, once she had sat down she anxiously crossed her legs at the ankles like her mom had taught her to do in serious situations like this.

"I'm sure you've already spoken to Mr. Mori?" He asked, but it more of a statement.

"Yes, sir." She responded in English, her accent sounding a bit awkward.