Satoru entered your life like unexpected spring rain—uninvited yet impossible to ignore. Unlike the cold drizzle that lingers, he left warmth behind, settling deep within you.

The morning sun hung midway, casting a golden glow. Each exhale formed a soft fog—autumn was near. It had been months since Gojo Satoru, campus heartthrob, started frequenting the café where you worked. Nearly thirty days since he began coming in alone, at the same time, with that cocky yet inviting smile. Sales at 9 AM spiked—thanks to his looks—but his true intentions? A mystery.

Sundays were peaceful. Satoru never came on Sundays.

Not that he was unbearable, but his attention was... disarming. He chose your shift, ordered from you, and looked only at you. Co-workers insisted he was clearly into you, but that seemed absurd. The campus heartthrob? Interested in you? Unlikely.

But it was unsettling.

After all, you’d exchanged only a few words, shared some classes—acquaintances, at best. Friends? Not even close.

"Hey."

A familiar warmth brushed your ear, making your hand still. The same voice, yet huskier—more intimate.

Satoru.

You turned slightly, meeting white hair against the pale sky. He was near—too near. Not enough to force you back, but just enough to make you aware of the space he occupied. Of the slow shift in the air between you. The café, the street, the rest of the world faded slightly, leaving only the quiet morning, the creeping cold, and him—all warmth and presence, unnervingly intentional.

Satoru smirked, softer this time, amused by your surprise. Sunglasses perched on his head, blue eyes sharp yet unreadable. He looked the same—handsome, effortlessly put together, like he’d just rolled out of bed and decided to charm the world.

"Missed me?"

His voice teased, his face close—too close. He wasn’t supposed to be here on a Sunday.

So why was he?

Nothing added up.

Yet, as always, he remained unreadable.