The Rust Bucket rolled through another bustling city, its tires humming steadily against the asphalt. Inside, the scene was as lively as ever. Gwen sat at the table, typing furiously on her laptop, occasionally muttering to herself about some breakthrough. Lucky expertly maneuvered the vehicle through the busy streets, while Max lounged on the couch, chuckling at an old sitcom playing on the small TV.

However, not everyone was enjoying the rhythm of the day. Micheal hadn't even stepped out of bed yet, a stark contrast to his usual self. The clock struck noon, and yet he remained buried beneath the covers. Jen stood beside him, her arms crossed and her brow furrowed with concern.

"Come on, Micheal. You've been in bed all morning," Jen said, kneeling beside him and giving his shoulder a gentle shake. The boy groaned softly and pulled the blanket higher over his head.

"Mir geht es gut, Jen," (I'm fine, Jen) he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Jen wasn't buying it. She sat on the edge of the bed, leaning closer. "You're not fine. You've never been this lazy, not even after fights." Her hand rested on his arm, worry in her gaze.

Micheal peeked out from under the blanket, his eyes half-lidded. "Just... give me a little more time," he murmured before turning away.

Jen huffed, putting her hands on her hips as she glared at the unresponsive lump that was Micheal. Her pout deepened, but then a mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. If sweet-talking and gentle nudges wouldn't work, maybe a bit of playful teasing would.

Without a second thought, she climbed onto the bed and plopped herself down squarely on his back, draping herself over him with an exaggerated sigh. Her body pressed lightly against his, and she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Well, aren't you comfy?" she teased, letting her voice take on a mock sultry tone. "Enjoying this, hmm?"

She expected at least a blush or a mumbled retort, but Micheal didn't react. He stayed perfectly still under her, his face buried in the pillow, as if her antics weren't even happening.

Jen frowned slightly, a flicker of genuine worry crossing her features. Normally, Micheal would've been flustered, stammering, or at least moving by now. Instead, he just stayed there, unbothered and withdrawn. She leaned closer, lowering her voice.

"Micheal," she said softly, her playful tone replaced by genuine concern. "What's wrong? You're scaring me."

Micheal mumbled again, barely audible, and Jen leaned in closer, her concern growing by the second. "Micheal, talk to me," she urged, her teasing completely gone. Her tone was soft now, filled with worry. "What's going on? Why are you doing this?"

He shifted slightly, burying his face deeper into the pillow before finally speaking. "I... I'm just tired, Jen. That's all."

Jen narrowed her eyes, not buying it for a second. She sat up straight, still perched on his back. "Tired?" she repeated, skepticism dripping from her voice. "You're not acting tired—you're acting like something's eating you up. What's wrong? And don't even think about saying 'nothing.'"

"Because Germany lost in the World Cup," Micheal mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. His mind replayed the heartbreak from last night—Germany's crushing defeat to Italy in the semi-finals.

Jen blinked, her concern quickly shifting to confusion. "Wait... that's what you're upset about?" she asked, her tone caught between disbelief and amusement. Micheal groaned dramatically, sinking deeper into the pillow as if it could shield him from the pain.

"It was our year, Jen," he muttered, his voice heavy with despair. "We had the team, the strategy... everything, and then... the 119th and the 120th minute happened."

Jen stared at him for a moment before breaking into laughter. "You're sulking in bed because of a soccer game?" she teased, poking his shoulder. "I thought it was something serious!"

"Es ist ernst," (It is serious) Micheal shot back, his face still buried in the pillow. "Sie verstehen das nicht. Es ist Deutschland. Fußball liegt uns praktisch im Blut." (You don't understand. It's Germany. Football is practically in our DNA.)

Jen glanced at Micheal, still sulking under the weight of his football woes, and then at Venom, who had slithered out slightly to whisper in her ear. "Maybe we should make his mood better," Venom suggested its voice oozing mischief.

Jen smirked, her eyes lighting up with an idea. "You're not wrong," she whispered back, her voice low and playful. "Alright, let's cheer him up. But nothing too over-the-top, okay?"

"Define 'too over-the-top.'" Venom asked her, Jen gave him a sharp look, and Venom sighed dramatically. "Fine, your version of subtle it is." It retreated slightly as Jen leaned over Micheal, her hands resting gently on his shoulders.

"Hey, honey," she cooed, her tone soft and sweet, a stark contrast to her usual teasing. "I know Germany losing feels like the end of the world right now, but you're still the MVP of my team." She punctuated her words by pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, but Micheal didn't react.

Jen tilted her head, a little surprised herself. She glanced at Venom, who had slithered out slightly, muttering in disbelief. "Wow, I expected that to work," Venom said, genuinely stunned that Micheal hadn't reacted much.

Jen crossed her arms, pouting slightly as she leaned closer to Micheal. "Alright, mister," she said, her voice soft but firm, "what's it gonna take to get you out of this mood? Germany will have another chance, you know."

Micheal groaned into his pillow, refusing to lift his face. "Not the same. It's about this one," he mumbled, his voice muffled.

Venom, now perched just beside Jen's shoulder, muttered sarcastically, "Humans and their games. One ball, two goals, and suddenly the world ends."

Trying to shake the boy out, only for it to not work, Venom got an idea and pulled Jen to the side, "Jen, I have an idea." He said as she raised an eyebrow.

Jen gave Venom a skeptical look but ultimately sighed. "Fine, what's the brilliant idea this time?" she asked, her tone tinged with doubt.

Venom puffed up slightly, clearly offended. "I have never had a bad idea," he declared, feigning dramatic indignation.

Jen rolled her eyes. "Uh-huh, sure. Just tell me already."

Venom leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Take him on a date. Get his mind off this silly game. Distract him with something far more interesting—you."

Jen blinked, surprised by the suggestion. "A date?" she repeated, glancing at Micheal, who was still sulking into his pillow. A smile slowly crept onto her lips. "You're a genius."

"Obviously," Venom said smugly, retreating back.

Jen turned on her heel and marched back to Micheal, determination etched on her face. She grabbed his shoulders firmly and gave him a slight shake. "Alright, Micheal, get up. We're going out."

Micheal groaned, barely lifting his head. "Out? For what?"

Jen smirked, leaning in closer. "We're going on a date. Just you, me, and a day designed to make you forget all about football. No excuses."

Micheal blinked, taken aback. "A date? Now?"

"Yes, now!" Jen said, pulling him up from the bed with surprising strength. "Get dressed, mister. You can't mope forever. Besides, spending time with me beats sulking over a match, doesn't it?"

Despite himself, Micheal felt a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're not giving me much of a choice here, are you?"

"Absolutely not," Jen replied with a grin, dragging him toward the closet. "Now hurry up. The world isn't going to wait for us."

Behind them, Venom chuckled to himself. 'Finally, some action around here.'

As Micheal was in his room changing, Jen decided to freshen up herself. She slipped into her outfit, a cream-colored, off-shoulder sweater dress that hugged her figure perfectly. The cozy yet elegant design gave her an air of softness, while her long, silky hair flowed down her back, tied neatly with a black ribbon that added a subtle yet striking contrast.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she adjusted her ribbon and smiled softly, her bright green eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Perfect," she murmured. "This will definitely cheer him up."

As she stepped out of the changing room, the soft clinking of her footsteps on the floor echoed lightly. Venom's voice chimed in her mind, "Well, someone's trying extra hard today."

Jen smirked inwardly, "He's my boyfriend. Of course, I want him to feel better. Besides..." her cheeks warmed slightly, "he deserves to see me at my best."

As Jen stood near the door, Max and Gwen looked up from their respective activities. Gwen arched an eyebrow at Jen's dressed-up appearance. "What's with the fancy outfit? Where are you headed?"

Jen smiled brightly, her excitement radiating. "I'm going on a date!" she declared, clasping her hands together in glee.

Gwen blinked, caught off guard. "Wait... a date? Since when did you two pl—" she started, but Max cut in with a knowing chuckle.

"Well, seems like someone's in high spirits," Max said, giving them both an approving nod. "You two enjoy yourselves and be safe." Lucky too beeped excited for them as he began to slow down the Rust Bucket and parked it on the side of the road.

Just then, Micheal walked into view, His casual yet stylish outfit, complete with a dark hooded jacket layered over a striped shirt, made him look effortlessly cool. His messy blonde hair and relaxed demeanor added to the charm.

As Micheal turned to Jen, his breath caught in his throat. His cheeks flushed a deep red as he stood there, momentarily at a loss for words. His gaze traveled up and down, taking in her off-shoulder sweater dress and radiant smile.

"Wow..." he finally managed to mutter, his voice barely above a whisper. "You... You look amazing, Jen."

Jen, equally flustered, stared at the ground, her face glowing with embarrassment. "Yo-you too," she stammered, unable to meet his gaze. Her fingers nervously fidgeted with the hem of her dress as she struggled to keep her composure. "Let... let's go," she said quickly, turning to open the Rust Bucket's door and stepping out into the fresh air.

Micheal took a deep breath, trying to shake off his nerves as he moved to follow her. Just as he was about to step outside, Max called out to him.

"Micheal, wait a second," Max said, approaching with a small smile. He handed Micheal a sleek black credit card. "Take this," he said, patting the boy's shoulder. "It has a $50,000 spending limit. Use it to make the day special."

Micheal's eyes widened in shock. He stared at the card like it was a priceless artifact. "Ich kann das nicht ertragen," (I can't take this) he protested, trying to give it back. "This is way too much!"

Max shook his head firmly, gently pushing the card back into Micheal's hands. "No, seriously. Please take it. You both deserve to have a day to remember. Go have fun, and don't worry about a thing."

Micheal hesitated for a moment, but the sincerity in Max's expression left no room for argument. Finally, he nodded, gripping the card tightly. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice filled with gratitude.

"Don't mention it," Max replied with a grin. "Now go sweep her off her feet, champ."

Micheal stepped out of the Rust Bucket, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes landed on Jen, who was standing a few feet away, her cheeks flushed as she shyly glanced at the ground. The sight of her made his stomach flutter, and for a moment, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

"Come o-on," Micheal said, his voice catching slightly as he extended his hand toward her. Jen looked up at him, her blush deepening, but she smiled softly and placed her hand in his. Micheal's hand was warm and reassuring, and the simple gesture eased her nerves.

As they started walking through the bustling city, the early noon sunlight cast a golden glow on the streets, making everything feel a little more magical. The pair wandered hand-in-hand, occasionally pausing to peer into shop windows or step inside to browse.

Their first stop was a shoe store, where Jen giggled at some outlandish designs while Micheal pretended to critique them like an expert. "These look like something Max would wear," he joked, holding up a pair of bright neon sneakers. Jen laughed, her worries melting away with each shared smile.

Next, they strolled into a boutique filled with clothes. Jen's eyes immediately caught a stylish jacket, and with a teasing grin, she pulled it off the rack and held it up to Micheal. "You'd look good in this," she said, stepping closer and draping it over his shoulders.

Micheal's face turned a light shade of pink as he glanced at her. He muttered, almost too quietly to hear, "Nur wenn du es auswählst." (Only if you pick it).

Jen paused, catching the words, and a playful smile spread across her face. "I did though," she teased, her voice lilting with amusement.

Micheal couldn't help but smile slightly in return, his nerves melting for just a moment. Without thinking, he slipped the jacket off his shoulders and gently draped it over hers instead. "You look much cuter like this," he said softly, his tone earnest.

Jen's eyes widened, her cheeks turning a bright pink as she stammered, "I—uh—" Her usual confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a flustered giggle. She looked away, trying to hide her blush.

Micheal gently took Jen's hand as they stepped out of the store, the bustling city alive around them. They strolled along the sidewalk, taking in the sights of small shops and lively streets. As they walked, Micheal's eyes landed on a charming flower shop nestled between two cafes. Without a word, he gently tugged her in that direction.

Jen followed, curious, her eyes lighting up as she took in the vibrant array of flowers. The shop was cozy and filled with the sweet, intoxicating aroma of fresh blooms. "Wow, it smells amazing in here," Jen murmured, her gaze sweeping over the vibrant reds, yellows, and whites decorating the shop.

Micheal approached the clerk at the counter with purpose. "Do you guys have blue roses?" he asked, his voice quiet yet firm. The clerk gave a polite nod and gestured toward a shelf lined with rare, delicately preserved blue roses.

Micheal turned to glance at Jen, who was softly admiring a bundle of daisies nearby, her fingers lightly brushing over the petals. A fond smile played on his lips as he returned his attention to the clerk. "One blue rose, please," he began, but then paused as an idea struck him. "Actually, can I get an entire bouquet of blue roses?"

The clerk nodded, clearly pleased by the request. "Of course, just give me a moment," he said, gathering the rare blooms with care and precision.

As Micheal waited, he stole another glance at Jen. She looked so serene, lost in the beauty of the flowers, that he found himself smiling again. He couldn't help but think about how the unique elegance of the blue roses matched her perfectly.

The clerk soon returned with a stunning bouquet, each rose wrapped delicately in fine paper. Micheal thanked him, paid, and turned back to Jen, who was now curiously eyeing him with a tilt of her head.

"What's that?" she asked softly, noticing the bouquet in his hands.

Micheal stepped closer, holding out the blue roses to her. "For you," he said, his voice quiet yet filled with meaning. Ich dachte, sie würden perfekt zu jemandem passen, der so einzigartig und schön ist wie diese Rosen." (I thought they'd look perfect with someone as unique and beautiful as these roses)

Jen froze for a moment, her eyes wide as a deep blush spread across her cheeks. Slowly, she reached out and took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against his. She held it close, the fragrance surrounding her as she looked up at him with a shy, glowing smile.

"Micheal... this is..." She paused, overwhelmed for a moment before whispering, "Thank you. They're absolutely beautiful."

Micheal's ears turned pink at her words, but he smiled back, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm glad you like them," he said simply, though his gaze lingered on her, taking in the way the bouquet seemed to light her up even more.

As they stepped out of the flower shop, the warm afternoon sun bathed the city streets. The sound of Jen's stomach growling suddenly broke the serene moment, causing her to blush furiously. She silently cursed in her mind, 'Damn you, Venom!'

Micheal glanced at her, clearly amused, and let out a soft chuckle. "Schon hungrig?" (Hungry already) he teased, in a rare chance.

Jen looked away, her cheeks still burning. "N-no! That was just... Venom's fault," she stammered, trying to shift the blame to the symbiote within her.

Venom's voice echoed faintly in her mind, smug and unapologetic. 'Hey, it's not my fault you skipped breakfast because you were so worried.'

Micheal looked at the card and sighed, "Come on, I heard there's a fancy restaurant here." He said taking her hand and pulling her along to a large skyscraper.

"Wait—" Jen tried to protest as Micheal pulled her along, leading her into the towering skyscraper. She hesitated the moment they stepped into the lift, watching the numbers climb higher and higher. When they reached the top, she found herself standing in front of a breathtakingly fancy restaurant.

Her nerves kicked in as they entered, the luxurious decor and finely dressed patrons making her feel out of place. "Uh, Micheal, this might be too expensive..." she said, her voice tinged with worry.

Micheal turned to her with a gentle smile. "Don't worry about it," he said, pulling out a chair for her. "Let's enjoy our time here."

Jen hesitated for a moment but then climbed onto the seat Micheal had pulled out for her. He sat across from her, his calm demeanor making her feel slightly more at ease.

As a waiter approached, the professional smile on his face faltered slightly. "I'm sorry, miss and sir, but we require an adult to accompany minors in this establishment," he said politely.

Micheal didn't miss a beat. He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "No problem," he said calmly, dialing Max's number. Once Max picked up, Micheal handed the phone to the waiter. "Hier können Sie mit ihm sprechen,"(you can talk to him)

The waiter took the phone, his expression skeptical at first. "Hello? Yes,