Junko sits at the dining room table after dinner, sipping from a glass of whiskey as she listens to her daughter talk about her day. One or two things catch her attention, but she doesn't jump at it and instead takes her time with a moment of silence after taking a drink. Staring down at the melting ice and swirling her finger around the edge of the glass, she suggests, "Invite her out."

"Eh?" Madoka grunts in mild confusion.

"Invite her out." Junko repeats, takes a sip, and then elaborates. "She showed you around the school, singled you out among everyone else, and hugged you out of nowhere. She gave you those cute little ribbons, and called you pretty." She takes another moment to drink, "It sounds to me like she wants to be friends, at least. What's the problem?"

"She just...scared me, is all." Madoka admits, glancing away as she speaks.

Junko chuckles, "A pretty strong way to come on, isn't it?" She sighs, "I wonder why. Don't you?"

"Yeah. Wonder why..." Madoka trails off. After a minute of silent contemplation, she speaks back up, "She seemed really strange at first. Like cool, but in a scary way. But when she was talking to me alone, I could tell that she has to actually be a really kind person..."

Junko glances up from her supposedly downtrodden state.

"...somehow." Madoka finishes.

Junko can't help but giggle, "'Somehow'? Maybe you should start, there!"

Madoka gives a light blush, but smiles, "Mama, come on... How do I even do that?"

"Like I said," Junko repeats "just ask her out, somewhere. Ask if she's busy. It's been a long time since we were around here, maybe she knows a few places. Have a good time, get to know each other. Then you'll know."

Madoka sighs, "...Alright." She jumps up out of her chair and stands up straight, "I'll have a good time with Homura, tomorrow!"

"That's my girl." Junko encourages her. "Looks like that time in America really did boost your confidence. Now get to bed, you want to at your best if you're going to make a good first...er, second impression tomorrow!"

Madoka nods, her prior unsure frown having morphed into a full grin by now. She runs off to her room, pumping her fists and nearly tripping over a few still-packed boxes. It reminds her mother, "Oh, and don't worry about the rest of the boxes! Your father will get the rest of them!"

Of course, she's gone by now. Junko chuckles and shakes her head, "Just who did you get yourself involved with, now?"

"Hey" is the opener Madoka chooses as she walks up to Homura's desk in the far back of the class, right by the window. The Protagonist Seat, as she's heard it called. The Godly Seat. The Chosen One Seat. Point being, everyone wants it.

Homura barely even deigns to remove her gaze from the outside. Nay, she doesn't even hardly respond with more than a slight glance in Madoka's direction.

"Whatcha doing?" she tries to casually continue.

Homura sighs and closes her eyes, facing more towards her but with her face still buried in her hand.

Madoka tries a compliment, "...Your earring is pretty."

Homura sighs even harder, but at least gives a barely audible, "Thank you."

Madoka slowly inches towards her, bending over and crouching slightly so that she's just looking up at her, then asks in a near whisper, "What's wrong?"

Homura sighs even harder, but this time decide she's had enough and just stand up, slamming her palm into the desk in the process of rising. Exhaustedly, she sidles out of the seat and slides past Madoka while trailing her hand across her back. "Sorry." she says as she passes.

Madoka stands up, having lost her conviction from earlier, entirely; now simply worried. But as Homura leaves the room and Madoka has no other course of action, she just sits in her own seat and waits for class to start.

And it does. And she doesn't come back. Role-call is made, and she's counted absent. Madoka silently curses herself: "If I hadn't done that, she wouldn't have left." For the half the duration of the class, she's left with nothing more interesting to do than stare at the room's exit and wonder just where that girl went off to.

Eventually, the tension kills her a little too hard; she raises her hand and asks to go to the bathroom. The nervous fidgeting and foot tapping helped her case, but they would have probably let her go, anyways. She uses the opportunity to dash out the door and immediately start searching for the runaway.

The first place she checks is actually the bathroom. Madoka used to run off, here, when people bullied her in elementary. Sayaka always came to get her. Alas, Homura isn't here. No way she'd have the guts to use the boys' room, either, no matter how smart of an idea it would be.

The second place she checks is the library; a commonly stereotyped place for quieter people to retreat to when anxious or sad or...well, any emotion, really. But is she a bookworm? Really, any place that isn't a classroom right about now would be good for the quiet types. A library stops making sense right quick.

If she's not just quiet or a bookworm, then where? Was she caught skipping and sent to the principle? Did she feel sick and go to the nurse? No way to really check without getting them both in trouble in the process, and she isn't about to do that without a good reason.

Where do sad, quiet people go? Stairwells? She checks a few, but they don't turn up anything. She seemed to be looking out the window, so maybe she wanted to be outside? It would be hard to sneak outside without getting noticed, and the only other way is...

"The rooftop." she finally concludes. It makes sense. Fresh air, nobody usually up there, silent and contemplative. But as she starts making her way towards the stairwell to the roof, another thought comes to her mind. What's she even doing up there? Just standing around? Reading? Anything else?

Naturally, the human mind extrapolates towards the darkest possible route. She remembers seeing a news story about a guy who jumped off the top of his high school to his death after having been bullied for his entire life, supposedly. She attaches this to the depressed look Homura gave her earlier, and promptly sprints up the stairs as fast as her tiny legs can carry her.

"Oh my god..." she says as she runs "Don't, please don't, don't do it!" She starts to round the door, "No, no, no, no..." She throws the door open to find Homura standing right at the edge, hands clasped around the engravings of the several-meter-tall fencing, looking down at the city streets.

Madoka calms down pretty quickly, but still surprised to see that Homura doesn't seem to have noticed her dramatic entrance. She comes out slowly, allowing the doors to close behind her, then walks forward. Once she's just a few paces away, she asks, "What are you doing?"

Homura still won't look at her, but she at least answers, "...Just staring." Albeit, vaguely.

Madoka lets out a sigh of relief, "Hey, class started a while ago."

Homura remains silent, as if she doesn't particularly care.

Madoka takes another step closer, "...So what are you staring at?"

Homura is about to answer, but her mouth hangs open silently instead as she stops to think about it. Then, she diverts the question with her own, "Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Shouldn't you?" Madoka shoots back.

Homura looks back down, rolling her eyes as she reluctantly answers, "The city. Whether night or day, isn't it beautiful?"

"Hmm..." Madoka hums, staring down with her. She isn't really pondering that idea, but rather what the other girl is thinking. She voices as much, "So what are you really doing?"

"Thinking." Homura answers, still vaguely.

"About...?"

"...Things." Homura "answers" after some pause.

Madoka quietly groans and thinks to herself, "Seriously?" Unfortunately, Homura seems totally serious. And totally closed off, but that's apparent. With the option of small-talk somehow cut out like a piece of particularly well-adorned pie by a child, she decides to just skip straight to the question, "Are you bu—?"

Unfortunately, Homura cuts her off with a presumptive "Yes."

Madoka, not content on giving up, just explains herself anyways, "...I was going to ask if you could show me someplace fun, after school."

They're both silent for the next minute. But somehow, it's as if she can literally hear Homura thinking, given by the increased tension of the atmosphere. Maybe it's just her being nervous, though.

Eventually, Homura gives her both a groan and an answer, "Okay, fine. I know one place." She just barely glances over at Madoka to get a face full of her absolutely beaming smile from hearing a single positive reinforcement, which inadvertently makes Homura almost smile as well. Of course, a battle-weary soldier like herself has the strength to resist such worldly vices.

"I'll see you after school, then! At my desk, okay?" Madoka gleefully tells her.

"Yes."

"Alright!"

They stand there in silence, again, waiting for each other to start the goodbye process, but nothing quite happens.

Homura whips her head around and looks at her for once, "Don't you have a class to get back to? How did you even get up here?"

Madoka then realizes that she spent the past 15 minutes looking for the girl, then another 5 talking. 15 is already pushing it for a bathroom break, but 20? Might as well just kill her right now and call it a day.

"Oh no." she says in the face of this strife.

"Better get going." Homura suggests, which Madoka takes wholeheartedly and darts for the door in the hopes that the teacher won't yell at her. Or that she has to actually use the bathroom, after all.

And just as promised (but not really), Homura reluctantly shows up beside Madoka's desk just as the bell rings, tapping her on the shoulder.

"Ah!" Madoka jumps, standing immediately and looking behind her at Homura's completely unaffected expression.

"Are you ready?" Homura asks, voice so soft that it's barely audible among the crowd of students hurrying to leave. Yet, her eyes reveal little other than indifference.

Madoka nods, "Just let me put this up, and..." she shoves a notepad she was doodling in, into her bag, then slings it over her shoulder "...done! Where are we going?"

"A surprise." Homura says as she slowly walks on past, expecting Madoka to follow.

Madoka cocks her head to the side and tries to ask, but realizes soon before that it would probably be fruitless, with how cryptic Homura has been so far. So she follows just a step or two behind, loyally, looking side to side idly as she's led through the school's halls, out to the front gate, and along the streets of the city.

As they stray from the rest of the home-bound students and enter the downtown area, Madoka quickly becomes keen on not getting separated; she holds onto Homura's arm with both hands. Homura twitches suddenly, almost coming to a stop as she lets out an inaudible gasp.

"Homura? You okay?" Madoka asks.

Homura mentally shakes her head and continues walking, "I'm fine." There's a slight waver in her voice, but not so much that Madoka would notice under ideal circumstances. Nor can she see her face.

"Here." Homura says as they round a corner a minute or two later, to some discreet-looking building with a mostly vacant outdoor dining area. The few tables and chairs strewn about are covered with ragged cushions; the umbrellas have holes torn in them.

Madoka gradually lets go as she examines the place, "It looks a little...run down. What is this?"

"Inside." Homura says, somewhat commandingly.

Madoka quietly follows along as they both head in, where she's pleasantly surprised by a cool, well-furnished room resembling a bar. The pungent scent of ground coffee beans and pastries fills the area, hitting her like a brick the moment she steps in and the door closes, making the bell atop it ring. Very quietly, she can hear the sound of some classical tune Sayaka would know the name of, playing on a jukebox in the corner. They're the only two people there, besides the male barista and a couple of people playing Pool, nearby. The sounds of the billiard balls smacking against each other sometimes interrupts the contemplative atmosphere, but somehow doesn't clash at all.

There're no formalities. Homura goes up to the counter and takes a seat, orders straight black, and beckons Madoka to sit by her. She does.

"So you're a coffee person?" Madoka states the obvious.

Homura closes her eyes in lieu of rolling them, though she may have done that too. "You could say that." she answers.

Madoka just smiles. She spins around a bit in her seat, gawking at the serene surroundings while the barista brings Homura a small cup of what is essentially concentrated bitterness. He turns to Madoka and asks, "And what about you?"

Madoka only notices he's talking to her when she spins around for the fourth time. "Me?" she asks. "I don't have any, uh..."

"Madoka," Homura calls her attention "don't worry, it's on me." She casually slides a menu over.

After glancing at it for a minute or two, Madoka jumps in her seat, "Ooh, they have hot chocolate, here!?"

The people at the pool table look up from their game and chuckle at her outburst. Homura shakes her head and has to force herself to not grin. She's failing miserably. "Madoka..." she says "...that's not coffee."

"But I like it!" Madoka argues. Bit by bit, it becomes harder for Homura to not lose her composure as the others in the room have.

In the absence of her voice, the barista tells her, "No pressure, here. Plenty of people order the hot chocolate. It just so happens to be specially made."

Madoka smiles up at him, nodding enthusiastically, her feet kicking the leg of the stool. He correctly takes this as a "yes" and gets to making it.

Meanwhile, Madoka thanks her, "Hey, Homura? Thanks. This place is really nice. Do you come here often?"

Never mind that the last part sounded like a cheesy pick-up line, Homura still can't quite get over how much she missed Madoka's casual childishness and innocence. Despite being about to break her so-far-stoic character, she answers, "I like peaceful places. Where I can be alone. This just happens to fit." She takes a prolonged, antsy sip from her cup which makes a slurping sound.

By the time Homura looks back over, she notices that Madoka has laid her head on the counter, looking up at her. She finds herself staring back at her smiling face with a barely visible blush a mouth ajar with awe at her absolute charm. She almost smiles back.

Almost.

Instead, she looks away in an effort to save face, burying herself back into the hot, steamy bitterness of the cup. Madoka can't help but smile even wider, knowing that she got at least some sort of reaction, finally.

In no time at all, the barista brings back a nice, full mug of hot chocolate topped with a veritable mountain of whipped cream, melted chocolate on top, dozens of tiny marshmallows floating below it, a drizzle of caramel, and a cherry on top. Served with a tiny, silver spoon, of course.

Homura glances at it, then at her, and raises an eyebrow. Madoka looks at the mug, then at her, and at the mug again with the biggest anticipatory smile she can possibly muster. Not just a regular smile, but a toothy one. Excited in her seat, she claps a few times before taking the spoon and devouring a good portion of the chocolate-caramel-covered whipped cream. It assaults her with an unadulterared sweetness fit to make a child go on a rampage, enough to make her face curl up, and enough to make Homura wonder if it could give someone diabetes. If not that, then surely the way Madoka is non-verbally squealing in delight. Count her as a type-2, in that case.

She should look away to save herself the pain, but can't help but watch as Madoka takes the cherry and smothers it in just about every inch of the concoction that she can before eating it whole. Thankfully, there's no pit, but she probably would have eaten it anyways if there were. Not even ten seconds later, and she's scraped off almost all the dessert part of the drink, and now starts sipping from the unusually dark liquid.

"Hm?" she says, putting it down. "It's a bit...salty? Salty and sweet, and a little...bitter. What...?"

"Dark chocolate." Homura explains. "They make it with dark chocolate."

"Oooh!" Madoka coos, then decides to chug the entire cup despite how undeniably hot it is. Homura warns her about as much, but she decides to go on anyways.

Following suit, Homura finishes her much smaller cup and pushes it aside, asking as Madoka finishes, "...That hurt, didn't it?"

Madoka makes an anticipated grimace as she sets the cup down, "Y-Yeah..."

Homura sighs, "Honestly, don't drink it if it's scalding hot..." She reaches over and finds herself patting her head. Too to stop, it seems, as Madoka reacts with a surprising amount of acceptance. She turns slightly, leaning into it despite her embarrassed and disgruntled pout. "Was it good, at least?" Homura asks.

Madoka looks up from being patted, finding herself at a loss for words beyond "Yeah." as she starts staring at Homura endearingly. Like a kitten, most certainly.

As soon as Homura notices, she stops and turns back around, "...Let's move over to the sofa, anyways." She quickly dolls out the payment for both cups, stands, and drags Madoka along with her to a nearby booth with a sofa for seating. Against her better judgment, she drags Madoka onto the same side as her, then relaxes.

Madoka follows suit. Once in, she leans back into it like she would with the couch at home, sighing in the process as if she had just thrown off all of her stress.

"Like it?" Homura asks.

"Mhm." Madoka hums, still reluctant to talk with a singed tongue.

"Good." Homura says, her tone shifting as if a great weight had been lifted. Not just that, but her posture as well. She easily sinks in like melted butter, eyes closed and completely still. If not for her gentle breaths, one would be forgiven for thinking she's dead. Even Madoka figures that she just collapsed into sleep for some reason.

"Homura?" she asks in a whisper, giving the girl a nudge on the shoulder.

She opens her eyes and lazily looks to the side.

"Ah, you weren't asleep." Madoka says.

"If only." Homura says with a hint of disappointment.

"Trouble sleeping?" Madoka asks, looking worried.

"It's nothing." Homura dismisses, looking away.

This only makes Madoka worry even more. A hundred questions run through her head at that moment, but the moment itself seems to take priority of them. And the moment calls for relaxation. A bit too much relaxation, as it happens; they both (or Madoka, at least) manage(s) to doze off for the next hour or so. By the time Homura wakes her up and tells her it's time to go, the sun has begun to set.

"Time to go already? But we just got here..." Madoka complains in her groggy state.

"Madoka, it's getting dark. You fell asleep."

"Eh? How long?"

"An hour or so."

"Oh..."

Homura rolls her eyes with a tiny smile, helps Madoka out of the booth, and out the door.

"We barely got to talk..." Madoka continues, clinging onto Homura like she can't walk.

Homura sighs heavily, "There's...always tomorrow."

Madoka groans into her side.

Homura looks at her, then down at the ground, "Tomorrow..." She looks up at the orange sky, staring for a moment before repeating it, "Always tomorrow."

"Hmm?" Madoka hums.

Homura dismisses her again, "It's nothing. Let's get you home, alright? Get some proper rest, there."

And with that, she walks her all the way back to her house before night falls completely. In the end, Madoka completely forgets to ask for or even really say anything other than a standard "See you tomorrow", or some such farewell. She goes inside to eat dinner and rest. Safely.

Homura goes back to her own home, a bleak little apartment, and fawns over a picture she took. Madoka leaning into her shoulder, asleep in the booth. Homura is looking up at the camera and smiling like an idiot.

Just like now, as she looks down upon it on her phone's tiny screen, then cradles it in her arms as she curls into a ball. Every night may be sleepless, but this could at least keep her company.