3 AM, sunrise is starting.

You've been sitting in the passenger seat of Gojo's car for half an hour now, in the parking lot of an abandoned building while you're quietly waiting with someone for Gojo's return. While his car was comfortable, you felt like running away as far as possible. Well, not exactly. A part of you begged to exit the vehicle to breathe while the other wanted the exact opposite.

THIS was the problem. How in the world was someone like Nanami Kento, your coworker, making your head spin so much?

There he was, in the driver's seat, trying not to look at you, your skin, your lips... Little did he know that you were struggling as well— you two couldn't even look at each others.

He couldn't resist the dangerous silence anymore, as he looked at you through the rear-view mirror, his fingers taped onto the leather of the steering wheel before gripping it slightly more firmly.

Why the hell is it so hot in this car, he wondered. He noticed how you looked away from him the moment your eyes connected, hooking a finger in the knot of his tie to release some sort of imaginary pressure while clearing his throat.

"Are you avoiding me?" He asks you, his voice rough and deep, seemingly composed.