“I want you to meet someone,” you said.
It’s been months and months of happy accidents, finding quirks and dere-like snippets of her personality until you finally acknowledged that him and her, they’d look good together. Not just look it, in fact.
His eccentricities in choice of manga and music go well with her dark taste in humor and anime. His anecdotes and sociology on people, both real and fictional, complement her craving for abstract ideas weaved in stories. Him and her, they’d be natural together, you thought.
And you thought right when they jinxed each other about putting the brunt on you, about some band you’ve never heard of, about the Little Prince, and about the onigiri they would make for their partner when they ever found the one.
The only problem was that she had figured out that he was your Grecian Urn. When you said that he was here, she shed tears for you.