cookiedroid x pink choco thing

1: what is love?

She collapsed onto the bench, letting go of my hand now and sighing, "Running for so long is exhausting... aren't you tired?" She looked over at me as I sat down next to her.

"No, not really. I've used up some energy, but it takes more to exhaust me completely," I replied, my expression neutral, though my cheeks still felt rather warm. I didn't seem to want to look away from her... So I didn't.

"Wow..." she whispered, seeming amazed by what felt completely normal to me. "Hey, actually, I... I never got your name."

"Cookiedroid," I quickly responded, "And you're Pink Choco Cookie, yes?" The smile was returning to my face now, but I was still unsure why.

"Yeah, that's me!" she nodded as a smile formed on her own face, much wider than mine. She seemed to realize something, looking past me at something in the distance before grabbing my hand and bringing me with her again. "...C'mon, let's go now! How about we visit Sandwich Cookie?"

I didn't get much time to look around before she brought me to one of the many shops lining the road, taking me inside. It was a rather cozy-looking diner, well maintained and clean with plenty of happy customers. Amidst all the tables and chatter was a Cookie—perhaps the Sandwich Cookie she had spoken about. She had bright red hair with pigtails and wore an apron over a yellow dress, and carried two plates of surprisingly tall sandwiches. She didn't seem to notice Pink Choco and I, too busy taking and delivering orders.

Eventually, she noticed the two of us and ran over, smiling and seeming somewhat familiar with Pink Choco. "Hey, Pink Choco! Long time no see! The usual?" she asked, pulling a notepad from the pocket on her apron and clicking her pen. She started talking again before she got a response though, so Pink Choco just nodded. "Who's this? A date? Never seen this Cookie around before..."

"Date?" I immediately responded, utterly confused. "I don't understand. Am I a date?"

Pink Choco seemed to understand much better than I did, evidenced by her shocked expression and the bright red spread across her face. She shook her head and smiled nervously, stuttering out an answer. "No, no, not a date! I'm just showing her around, that's all!"

Sandwich smiled and nodded, having already scribbled down Pink Choco's usual order. "Well, I'm happy my shop is noteworthy enough to include on your tour! Anything for you?" she asked, pointing her pen at me.

I glanced up at Pink Choco for a couple seconds as if looking for an answer, despite knowing it wasn't a question she could answer for me. I shook my head, hardly even noticing Pink Choco and I were still holding hands.

Sandwich had already seated us by the time I did notice, though I didn't pull my hand away. It gave me the same odd feeling as before, which felt... strangely nice. I didn't want that feeling to go away.

"I LOVE the sandwiches she makes, they're so good!" she rambled excitedly. "Actually, wait... Do you eat? I didn't think to ask that..."

"No," I replied, "I don't. I could, but I don't see the point..."

She gasped and her eyes lit up upon hearing that it wasn't impossible for me to eat, bouncing slightly in her seat and clearly excited. "You HAVE to try my sandwich! Just one bite? Please? You'll like it, I promise!"

I stared up into her eyes, hearing what she said but not quite processing it completely. For some reason, her eyes were so... entrancing. I couldn't bring myself to look away. I didn't want to look away. I felt my cheeks heating up again, the unfamiliar feeling intensifying as I got lost in my thoughts, forgetting to respond.

"...Hello?" she asked, seeming unsure why I hadn't responded. "Do you wanna try it?"

I snapped back into reality, quickly nodding as I realized I'd gotten lost in my thoughts. "Yes, I will," I replied. "I'm sorry, I... I just lost my train of thought..." I managed to pry my eyes away from her and looked away nervously, choosing to look past her and at the kitchen doors instead.

Not long after I had looked over, the doors opened, and out came Sandwich Cookie, carrying two plates with a sandwich on each. She delivered one sandwich to a booth next to ours, then the other to us, putting the sandwich on the table in front of Pink Choco.

"Thank you!" Pink Choco said, smiling at Sandwich, who nodded and walked away with a smile on her face. "See? Doesn't it look good?"

I didn't know if it looked good. Did it look good? What was 'good' when it came to sandwiches? "...I don't know. How do I eat it?"

"Well... Here, watch me. It might be a bit messy, but that's fine, right?" she explained, then reached out to grab the sandwich. It already looked ready to fall apart when she picked it up, but surprisingly stayed together pretty well. She managed to take a relatively mess-free bite before putting it down again, wiping a bit of sauce off her face with a napkin. "See?"

I was a little skeptical, but... What was the worst that could happen? I nodded a little and hesitantly reached out to grab the sandwich, trying to replicate the way she did it. Once I was sure it wouldn't fall apart onto my lap, I brought it to my face and opened my mouth to take a bite.

Immediately, Pink Choco practically squealed with excitement. "Is it good?! Do you like it?"

The flavor caught me off guard. I looked down at the sandwich in surprise for a few seconds. Though, my expression shifted to a smile afterwards, nodding to her question, which prompted more excitement from her. I took my time with chewing, not wanting to ruin the moment by choking on it.

"I knew it! I told you you'd like it, ehehehe~! Do you want more?" She was clearly happy, bouncing in her seat and giggling. I liked it, for some reason.

I had finished chewing and swallowed by the time she asked me the question, carefully putting the sandwich back down on the plate afterwards and responding, noting that my voice sounded particularly bland and monotone compared to hers. "It's good... I'll have more if you're ok with giving me more..."

Immediately, she smiled more than she already was, nodding and responding excitedly. "Yay! Let's take turns, ok? That way we both get plenty!" She looked at me for a few seconds before realizing something, speaking again—though notably quieter. "Oh, wait, you have some sauce on your face... Here, let me help."

I inhaled to respond, though she had already wiped the small amount of sauce off with her finger rather than the napkin. But rather than questioning her choice to use her finger, the only thought I could muster was this: "She touched my face."

So, we spent the rest of our time at the diner taking turns eating our sandwich—I never questioned the amount of times she wiped sauce off my face with her finger, despite using the napkin on herself. It didn't matter much to me anyways.

Is this what love is?