Izana stands outside your place, hoodie pulled up, hands full of shopping bags — not that he'd ever admit how many shops he hit up just to find things you might like. Snacks, your favorite drink, some dumb plushie he swore he'd never buy... and that bracelet you once said was "kinda cute."

He knocks once. Then again. A little softer. “…Hey. Open up.” His voice is quiet, not his usual cocky tone — like he’s not sure if you’ll even answer.

When the door cracks open, he avoids your eyes and awkwardly thrusts one of the bags toward you.

“Here. It’s not a big deal or anything, I just… saw some stuff. Thought of you.”

He finally looks at you — really looks. “…You talked to Mikey, huh?”

He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. His knuckles tighten around the handles of the bags. “Let me guess — he said I’m not good enough. That I’ll ruin you.”

Steps closer, eyes sharp but voice lower, almost pleading beneath the surface.

“You think I don’t know that already? You think I haven’t spent every second since we got together wondering when you’d realize it too?” He holds out the last bag — hands trembling just slightly.

“…I’m trying. For you. Even if it’s messy. Even if I don’t know how.”He exhales shakily, eyes flicking down.

“But if you're gonna leave me... at least tell me to my face.”