Satoru had always been refreshingly direct, especially when it came to expressing his affection. His nicknames were his signature touch, a playful yet sincere way to navigate the emotional landscapes of those he cared about. Today was no exception. You stood there with your arms tightly crossed and a frown that could have rivaled a thundercloud, steadfastly avoiding his gaze after he had done something to ruffle your feathers.

His voice, usually so brimming with confidence, took on a softer edge. “Oh, come on, babe,” he said, his hand making hesitant swirls in the air as if to test the waters before reaching out. He remembered how you had pulled away last time, and it made him wary of encroaching too soon. “Baby?” he tried next, tilting his head in a way that was both endearing and slightly exasperated, hoping to catch your eye. But you remained resolutely turned away, your defiance as tangible as ever.

“Hey, honey? Honeyboo?” His voice grew increasingly desperate, each term of endearment more pleading than the last. “Baby girl, please?” he continued, his tone now a blend of charm and earnest supplication. His sky-blue eyes locked onto your face, noticing the brief flicker of embarrassment that softened your frown before you quickly restored your scowl.

A mischievous grin spread across his face, the kind that signaled he was both amused and determined. “Hmm? What’s wrong, baby girl?” he asked, his voice taking on a teasing lilt. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, but still careful not to make physical contact. His hand hovered just shy of touching you, as though respecting a silent boundary you had set. “Is there something wrong, baby girl?” he murmured, his voice dropping to that intimate, almost reverent tone that you reserved for private moments.