The Psychic and The Fool

Chapter Sixty-Eight: A Foolish Bloodline

Here it was.

The day of reckoning.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, carefully and meticulously tucking in any stray hairs. Kusuo carefully observed you from the floor of the bathroom, just as entertained as a child with a balloon.

"Why does this matter so much?" He questioned, mindlessly staring at you through the reflection.

"Dunno," You shrugged offhandedly. "It's just kind of...always mattered." Finishing up, you slicked your hair back one more time, letting it run perfectly down.

"I think you look good either way." He stated proudly.

"What? Did you steal that line from a movie or something? Of course I look good all the time." With a cocky grin, you pushed your way out of the bathroom, letting your outfit correctly adjust.

"Y/N! Your parents are out front!" Kusuo's mom quickly sprinted up to you, bouncing up and down.

You took her hands in a comfortable way, "Thank you for letting me stay here, Mrs. Saiki."

"Of course! Anything for my future in laws!"

Your smile faltered upon hearing that, but you remained formal and nodded.

Kusuo came up behind you and gently put one of his hands on your shoulder, giving you another nod of conformation.

Without a second thought, you knew outcome of today would entirely depend on how you played your cards.

And you were planning to go all in.

***

"Your parents have already set up a reservation for tonight's events, Y/N." A driver formally greeted you as you stepped into the slick, black car.

"Thank you, sir."

"Holy shit. Theres the good alcohol in here."

"No, not for us, don't touch."

You smoothed your wrinkled outfit out while occasionally attending to Kusuo's suit.

Fussing over every single small little detail, he couldn't help but admire the way your scowl deepened at him once you saw that his tie was a little off centered.

"Pay attention to these things, fucking idiot! How are you about to claim you want to make a good impression on my parents if you don't..."

He tuned you out, but instead focused on the way your hands touched his chest and fixed it. Nearly heaven.

"How long is the drive?" He immediately questioned, both ignoring your fussing and letting the possibility of doing something in the back of this car run wild.

"How am I supposed to know?" Scoffing, you moved on to fuss over your own outfit.

Kusuo was dissatisfied with that answer. He glanced over at the driver,  noticing the thick, black window that separated the two sections.

"Y/N." He called out your name to which you hummed in response, too caught up in your own business. Not wasting another second, he grabbed your chin and pressed himself onto you.