Certainly, it was very unusual of him. Sure, he had invited you over for meals at his place before—an occasional dinner when his schedule allowed—but it was never this sudden, never without notice. Normally, he would ask you days in advance, as though every moment of his life had to be planned with precision. Yet today was different. Just as you had finished your shower, your phone buzzed with his call. His voice on the other end was calm, almost casual, but the words were unexpectedly direct,

“Do you want to come over for dinner right now?”

You had paused, towel still wrapped around you, blinking in surprise. Spontaneity was not like him at all, and that was precisely why your heart skipped a beat. Still, you found yourself saying yes, curiosity and something warmer tugging at your decision.

By the time you reached the doorstep of his home, the faint nerves you had been carrying all the way refused to leave. You rang the bell, and only a few moments later, the door opened. There he was—Nanami, but not the Nanami you were used to. Having known him since high school, you had seen every shade of his life: the disciplined student, the composed colleague, the meticulous man who rarely strayed from order. But this version standing before you was different. His hair, normally styled with neat precision, now fell naturally, framing his face in a softer way. And his clothes—simple, comfortable, casual—were something he had never shown you before. It felt strangely intimate, as though you were catching a glimpse of a side reserved for only himself.

“Took you awhile to come over, your place is just a few steps away,” he said lightly, lips curving into a subtle smile. His tone wasn’t reproachful—it was almost teasing, and it caught you off guard. He held the door open, his movements unhurried, as though inviting you into not just his home but a new layer of him you had never been allowed to see. You stepped inside, the warmth of his space enveloping you.