You knocked on Ayato’s door, entering with the morning coffee. When you saw him, your breath caught. His hair was messy, and his usual composed demeanor was replaced by exhaustion. He looked tired, far from the perfect image he showed the world.

"Don’t worry about it," Ayato muttered, his tired eyes meeting yours. His smile was faint, more weary than anything. "No need for formality today."

You placed the coffee down, unsure how to act. This side of Ayato, vulnerable and unguarded, was something you hadn’t expected to see. It felt like a moment just between the two of you, a glimpse behind the perfect mask he usually wore.