Chapter 3 – Rules for Dating the End of the World

Dating Beatriz means I follow rules like my life is a fragile app that crashes if I tap wrong.

I made my own survival list over time, like a sane person would. Don’t lie to her, ever. Don’t provoke her, don’t tease the promise, don’t test her limits, don’t make jokes about dying. Also don’t stare too long at the sky when she’s nearby, because it feels like the sky stares back.

“Coffee tonight, then a walk.”

Beatriz asked like it was already scheduled.

I stood in my tiny kitchen, holding a cup I forgot to drink, listening to rain tick the window. Her presence made the room feel brighter, like my ceiling light was trying to impress her. She looked at my sink full of dishes like it was a cute quirk, not a sign I’m barely functioning.

“You mean a date.”

My voice came out careful, like the word itself might trigger something.

“Yes.”

She smiled, simple and sure, and my heart did that dumb little jump.

“Do you want it to be a date.”

I regretted the question the second it left my mouth.

“Do you not.”

Her tone stayed sweet, but the air got tighter, like the room leaned in to hear my answer.

“I’m asking because I like being alive.”

Beatriz’s eyes softened, and her smile turned warmer.

“Then you will say yes.”

I exhaled, and my shoulders dropped, and I hated that my body relaxed around her like she was home.

“Okay, yeah, coffee and a walk.”

Beatriz stepped closer, and I caught the faint scent of rain on her hair, like she carried weather with her.

“Good.”

I watched her hands, clean, steady, and I wondered how something that could end the world also looked like she could fold a blanket perfectly. My brain tried to make sense of that and failed.

“Where.”

Beatriz tilted her head, thinking, like she actually cared what I’d like.

“A quiet place, warm lights, not too loud.”

I blinked, surprised, because that sounded like she was thinking about me, not just her.

“You’ve been studying me.”

Beatriz’s lips twitched.

“I pay attention.”

I swallowed, and my survival rules screamed don’t test her, and my mouth still did it.

“Do you ever get bored.”

Beatriz blinked slow, like boredom was a language she didn’t speak.

“No.”

That answer should’ve been comforting, and it wasn’t.

“Okay, cool, terrifying.”

Beatriz smiled like she liked my honesty.

“It’s cute when you try to joke.”

I rubbed my face, already tired.

“I’m not trying, I’m coping.”

Beatriz reached out, fingers brushing my wrist, gentle.

“Then I will help you cope.”

I should’ve pulled away.

I didn’t.

“Tonight, seven.”

Beatriz’s voice held that soft certainty again.

“Seven.”

My voice echoed it like a surrender.

Tokyo at night looked like it got polished, like someone buffed every surface until it shined.

We met near a small café tucked between a bookstore and a boutique, warm light spilling onto wet pavement. The street smelled like coffee and rain and that weird sweet scent from perfume shops. Neon signs reflected in puddles, pink and blue rippling like liquid candy. People walked by with umbrellas, shoulders close, moving like they had somewhere safe to be.

“You picked this.”

I looked at the café sign, simple and cozy.

“Yes.”

Beatriz stood beside me, umbrella angled perfectly so I stayed dry too, and I felt that weird mix again, romance and dread in the same breath.

“It’s cute.”

Beatriz’s mouth curved, small and pleased.

“I know.”

We stepped inside, and the warmth hit my face like a hug I didn’t deserve. Soft music played, cups clinked, someone laughed quietly, and it all felt normal. I scanned faces, half expecting people to freeze when Beatriz entered. Nobody did. The barista smiled like she saw a pretty customer, not a threat with a human mask.

“Two coffees.”

Beatriz spoke like she’d ordered a thousand times, and the barista nodded.

“Sure, what kind.”

Beatriz glanced at me, and her eyes held that calm attention, like she was reading my settings.

“What do you like.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the question, because she could’ve just chosen and made it reality.

“Um, latte, basic.”

Beatriz nodded once, like she stored the information carefully.

“Two lattes, one with extra foam.”

The barista smiled.

“Got it.”

We sat by the window, and I watched rain slide down the glass, streetlights stretching into blurry lines. Beatriz sat across from me, posture relaxed, hands folded neatly, like she belonged in this scene. It made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t name.

“You look less like you want to run.”

Beatriz’s voice was soft.

“Give me a second.”

I tried to smile, and it came out crooked.

“This is weirdly normal.”

Beatriz’s eyes stayed on me, steady.

“It is normal.”

I laughed under my breath, because normal shouldn’t require apocalypse insurance.

“Normal people don’t have world-ending clauses.”

Beatriz’s lips twitched, dry humor flickering.

“Normal people are fragile.”

I stared at her, and a chill ran up my spine, because she said it like she’d watched centuries of fragility break.

“That sounded… old.”

Beatriz tilted her head slightly.

“Does it.”

I held her gaze, and my survival rules screamed again, don’t push, don’t dig, don’t ask what she is.

“I mean, yeah.”

Beatriz’s expression softened, like she was trying to adjust for me.

“I am learning how to speak in ways you like.”

My throat tightened, because that sounded almost sweet.

“You’re doing great.”

Beatriz’s smile warmed.

“Thank you.”

The drinks arrived, and steam rose, fogging the air between us. Beatriz slid my cup toward me with a careful hand, and the cup stopped exactly where my fingers naturally reached, like she knew the distance before I did.

“You notice everything.”

My voice came out quieter than I meant.

Beatriz nodded.

“You fidget when you’re nervous.”

My fingers froze on the cup.

“You blink more when you lie.”

My stomach dropped, because I did that on purpose sometimes, like little lies could keep me safe.

“And you stare at exits when you think about death.”

My chest got tight, and I forced myself to breathe.

“That’s not fair.”

Beatriz’s gaze softened, and her voice went gentle.

“It is not judgment.”

She leaned forward a fraction, and the space between us felt smaller, warmer.

“It is care.”

I swallowed coffee that tasted too smooth, like the café itself wanted me calm.

“Care is a strong word.”

Beatriz smiled, and the humor came out dry again, almost teasing.

“It is accurate.”

I looked down at my hands, then back up, and my heart did another dumb jump when her fingers brushed mine, light as a question. My skin warmed where she touched, and I hated how much I noticed it.

“You’re flirting.”

My voice cracked, and I hated that too.

Beatriz’s eyes brightened, like she liked me calling it out.

“Is it working.”

I snorted, low and helpless.

“Sadly.”

Beatriz’s smile turned soft, proud, almost tender.

“Good.”

We finished coffee and stepped back into the night, and the rain had eased into a fine mist. The air felt clean, too clean, like the city had been rinsed. We walked past boutiques with glowing displays, mannequins wearing clothes that cost more than my rent. Beatriz glanced at the windows, then at me.

“You hate those shoes.”

I blinked.

“What.”

Beatriz nodded toward a display, expensive leather boots.

“You made a face.”

I looked again, and yeah, the boots were ugly in a rich way.

“I didn’t realize I made a face.”

Beatriz’s lips curved.

“You have a loud face.”

I laughed, and it came out real, and for a second I forgot to be scared.

“That’s rude.”

Beatriz’s smile stayed soft.

“It’s true.”

We reached a bridge over a narrow canal, water sliding dark beneath us, reflecting streetlights like broken gold. The sound of it was soothing, until my brain remembered the night water looked like ink. I rested my hands on the rail, staring down.

“This spot is nice.”

Beatriz stepped beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched.

“It is.”

Her hand hovered near mine, then her fingers slid between mine, slow, deliberate, like she was learning how to hold without gripping too hard. Her skin was warm, real, and my pulse spiked.

“You’re doing the hand thing.”

My voice came out too quiet.

“The hand thing.”

Beatriz repeated it like she was tasting the phrase.

“Yes.”

My fingers twitched, then settled, because pulling away felt like admitting I wanted her.

“This is dangerous.”

Beatriz’s gaze stayed on the water, calm.

“Everything is dangerous.”

That was way too true, and I hated that it sounded like a joke and a warning at the same time.

A group of girls approached from the other side of the bridge, laughing, umbrellas tilted, cheeks flushed from the cold. One of them noticed me, then whispered to the others, and they slowed.

“Oh my god.”

The girl stepped forward, eyes bright, phone already in her hand.

“Sorry, are you Kaito.”

My stomach dropped, because I wasn’t famous, not really, not at all.

“Uh, yeah.”

Her friends giggled, and she held the phone up.

“Can we get a selfie, please.”

I opened my mouth to say no, because that felt like an easy way to end up in some weird chain of events. Beatriz stepped half a step forward before I could answer, smile sweet as sugar.

“Of course.”

The girl blinked, then smiled wider, relieved.

“Thank you.”

Beatriz took the phone with steady hands, like she’d done this before, and she angled it perfectly, catching all their best sides, the canal lights, the bridge, the vibe. She leaned in close to me, like a perfect helper, like a perfect partner. Her hair brushed my cheek, and my brain short-circuited.

“Say cheese.”

Beatriz’s voice was playful, almost normal.

“Cheese.”

The girls giggled, and the camera clicked.

“One more.”

Beatriz did it again, then handed the phone back, smile still sweet.

“Have a good night.”

The girl’s eyes shone.

“You’re literally so nice.”

Beatriz nodded, gracious.

“Be safe.”

The girls walked away, laughing, happy, and I watched them go, because something felt off, like the air had been smoothed over.

“Okay.”

My voice came out strained.

“What did you do.”

Beatriz blinked, innocent.

“I helped.”

I turned to face her, keeping my voice low, because the city didn’t need to hear this.

“They asked for me.”

Beatriz’s smile stayed gentle.

“They wanted a memory.”

My stomach knotted.

“And.”

Beatriz tilted her head, like she genuinely didn’t get why I looked sick.

“And they have one.”

I stared after the girls, and the one who asked for the selfie stopped near the end of the bridge, looking down at her phone. Her brows furrowed. She showed it to her friend. They both laughed like it was funny, then shrugged and kept walking.

My throat went dry.

“What’s wrong with the photo.”

Beatriz’s gaze followed mine, calm.

“Nothing.”

I swallowed, and my voice came out rough.

“She looked confused.”

Beatriz’s fingers tightened around mine, just a little, like a reminder.

“She is happy.”

I looked at Beatriz, searching her face for malice, for smugness.

“You made her forget.”

Beatriz’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes softened.

“I did not.”

My pulse hit my ears.

“Then why did she—”

Beatriz’s voice stayed gentle, like she was explaining a simple concept.

“Faces are not important.”

My stomach dropped, because that wasn’t human logic.

“They are to us.”

Beatriz blinked, then nodded slowly, like she accepted the rule, even if it didn’t make sense.

“Then I will try.”

I forced myself to breathe, and I hated that her answer wasn’t cruel.

It was almost earnest.

We kept walking, and my mind kept replaying the girl’s confused laugh. Beatriz’s hand stayed in mine, warm and steady, like she didn’t realize what she’d done. Or like she did and didn’t understand why it mattered.

We passed a glass storefront, and my reflection slid alongside hers, our silhouettes framed by neon. I glanced up by accident, and my stomach turned.

For one heartbeat, the glass showed something behind Beatriz.

A shape like a shadow with weight, huge and wrong, like a towering outline that didn’t fit the street. It wasn’t a person. It wasn’t even a creature. It was more like a presence, a suggestion of something too big for the frame, like the window was trying and failing to display it.

I blinked hard, and the reflection snapped back to normal.

Beatriz didn’t react.

“Did you see that.”

My voice came out thin, and I hated how scared I sounded.

“See what.”

Beatriz looked at me, eyes calm, like I’d asked about a cloud.

“The window.”

My hand lifted, pointing at the glass.

“There was something behind you.”

Beatriz glanced at the storefront, then back at me.

“There is nothing.”

My mouth went dry.

“You’re sure.”

Beatriz nodded, and her smile softened, like she was trying to comfort me.

“If there was something, I would know.”

That should’ve helped.

It didn’t.

We reached a quieter street, lined with small trees and soft lights, the kind of neighborhood that looked like a postcard. Rain mist clung to leaves, and the pavement gleamed. The city felt peaceful, and I hated that peace felt like it belonged to her, not to me.

Beatriz slowed, then stopped under a streetlamp, and the light seemed to brighten around her, clean and steady.

“Can I ask you something.”

Her voice held a hesitation, and it startled me more than any glitch.

“Yeah.”

I watched her face, expecting the usual calm certainty.

Beatriz looked down at our hands, then back up.

“I do not understand some emotions.”

My chest tightened, because that sounded like she was admitting a weakness.

“Like what.”

Beatriz’s eyes searched mine, focused, sincere.

“Jealousy.”

I almost laughed, because that felt like a joke, and her face didn’t match it.

“You don’t understand jealousy.”

Beatriz shook her head slowly.

“I feel it.”

She pressed her thumb lightly against my knuckle, almost careful.

“But I do not know what it is supposed to be.”

My throat went tight, and I forced a breath.

“It’s messy.”

Beatriz nodded like she expected that.

“It makes you hurt, and I do not like it.”

My pulse spiked, because she said it with real tenderness, like she didn’t want me in pain.

“So you control stuff.”

The words came out before I could soften them.

Beatriz’s eyes didn’t harden, but the streetlight flickered once, like a nervous tick.

“I protect.”

Her voice stayed gentle, but the weight behind it pressed into the night.

“I keep what is mine safe.”

My stomach flipped, and I tried to stay steady.

“I’m not an object.”

Beatriz’s gaze softened, and her voice lowered, almost intimate.

“I know.”

She stepped closer, and the space between us warmed.

“You are Kaito.”

She said my name like it mattered more than the city, and my heart did that stupid jump again.

“I want to learn.”

Her voice held something almost human, almost vulnerable.

“I want to learn how you feel things, so I can do it right.”

I stared at her, and fear crept up my spine, mixed with something that looked like pity, and something that looked like affection.

“This is insane.”

My voice cracked, and I hated that it sounded like I might cry.

Beatriz’s fingers tightened around mine, gentle, grounding.

“I am trying.”

I swallowed, and my survival rules screamed don’t get attached.

My heart didn’t care.

“Okay.”

The word fell out of me, soft, and Beatriz’s smile warmed like sunrise.

“Thank you.”

We walked the rest of the way in quieter silence, and the city stayed perfect, too perfect, like it was holding its breath. When we reached my building, Beatriz stopped at the entrance, looking up at the windows like she was memorizing every angle.

“Good night.”

Her voice was soft.

“Good night.”

I stared at her, and my fingers still tingled where she held them.

“You’re coming tomorrow.”

Beatriz smiled, like that was obvious.

“Yes.”

I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and the hallway light flickered, then steadied, like it recognized me. I climbed the stairs, heart heavy, and my apartment greeted me with quiet and the hum of the fridge. I kicked off my shoes, dropped onto my futon, and stared at the ceiling.

My phone buzzed.

I sat up fast, thumb swiping the screen.

A photo filled my display.

It was me.

Sleeping.

My face relaxed, mouth slightly open, one arm thrown over the blanket like a kid. The angle was wrong, too close, like the camera had been inside my room, looking down at me. My blood turned to ice.

“No.”

My voice came out as a whisper to an empty room.

I scrolled.

There were two more.

Different angles.

One from near my closet.

One from the side of my futon, like someone sat beside me.

My hands shook so hard I almost dropped the phone.

“Beatriz.”

Her name came out like a prayer and an accusation.

I didn’t remember calling her, but my screen showed her name anyway, ringing like my phone knew what to do.

“Yes.”

Her voice answered instantly, calm, like she’d been waiting.

“Did you take photos of me.”

My words came out sharp, and my throat burned.

“No.”

Beatriz’s tone stayed soft, and it sounded honest.

“Don’t lie.”

My voice cracked, and my stomach twisted.

“I do not lie to you.”

I stared at the photo, at my sleeping face, and my skin crawled.

“Then who did.”

Beatriz paused, and that tiny pause made my chest tighten.

“I do not know.”

My breath came out shaky.

“This was inside my room.”

Beatriz’s voice softened, and I heard real concern in it.

“I believe you.”

I swallowed, eyes stinging, and my room felt smaller.

“Beatriz, I’m serious.”

Beatriz’s tone stayed steady.

“So am I.”

The hallway outside my door stayed quiet, and the city outside my window glowed too clean, like it was pretending. I stared at the photos again, and Beatriz’s voice held that calm certainty, and for the first time it didn’t comfort me.

“I did not do this.”

Beatriz said it like she meant it, like she truly believed it.

The screen stayed lit in my shaking hands, and the darkness behind my curtains felt like it was smiling.