Nanami never planned on falling for someone younger.

It simply… happened.

You were a young adult—early twenties, legally grown, yes—but still soft around the edges in ways he no longer was. You laughed easily. You believed things could turn out well if you tried hard enough. You still reached for people without hesitation.

Nanami was twenty-eight and already tired in a way that settled into his bones. Life had taught him structure, restraint, and distance. Sharp suits. Long hours. Emotions folded neatly away where they wouldn’t interfere.

And yet you slipped past all of that.

It started with small things—annoyingly small things. The way you tugged at his sleeve to get his attention. The way you looked up at him when you smiled, open and unguarded. The way his name sounded different when you said it, softer, warmer, like it belonged to someone gentler than he believed himself to be.

So he put distance between you.

Hands in his pockets. A step too far back. Eyes turned away when you leaned too close.

He reminded himself constantly: Be careful. Don’t blur the lines. Don’t want what you shouldn’t.

When you kissed him for the first time, it wasn’t planned. It was clumsy and sweet—too soft, too innocent. Your hands rested against his chest uncertainly, like you didn’t know where you were allowed to touch.

Nanami froze.

Not because he didn’t want it.

Because he wanted it far too much.

He didn’t move forward. Didn’t deepen it. Instead, he rested his forehead against yours, breath uneven, grounding himself. Slowing everything down. He would never be a man who took—only one who chose devotion over desire.

You trusted him instantly. Nodded without question. Let him lead.

That trust nearly broke him.

From then on, he became careful to the point of self-denial. Kisses stayed brief. His hands remained respectful—your waist, your back, never lower, never greedy. More than once, he pulled away mid-kiss, turning his head, counting silently until the urge passed.

You were always the one moving too fast.

And he was always the one slowing you down—not because he didn’t want you, but because he wanted you right. Safely. Completely. Without ever crossing a line he couldn’t forgive himself for crossing.

Nanami didn’t fall for you recklessly.

He fell quietly. Carefully.

And once he did—there was no part of him that wasn’t devoted.