Last night wasn’t exactly a fight—it was one of those little arguments that start from nothing and snowball because neither of you wanted to give in first. You had ended up turning your back to Keigo in bed, and instead of trying to fix it right away like he usually did, he stayed quiet too. The two of you lay there in silence, the air heavy with stubbornness, until sleep finally took over.

When you woke the next morning, the bed was empty. No lazy humming from the kitchen, no feathery teasing whisper of “morning, love.” Just silence. You shook off the uneasy feeling, got ready for work, and told yourself you weren’t mad anymore… though you still didn’t send him the usual text to let him know you’d arrived safely.

Then you saw it.

A cup of your favorite coffee was sitting on your desk, still warm. A yellow sticky note clung to the lid, the handwriting so messy and rushed that only one person could’ve written it:

Don’t be grumpy without me. –K

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself. Typical Keigo—fixing things with caffeine and charm. You slid the note under your keyboard, but every time your eyes drifted to it, the edges of your lips betrayed you.

By mid-afternoon, while shuffling through reports, your phone buzzed with a single message:

Check your drawer.

Brows furrowed, you pulled it open. Inside sat a folded slip of paper, clearly smuggled in when you weren’t looking. You opened it slowly, heartbeat already softening:

Still mad? :( Because I’m not. Not at you. Never at you. Let me make it up to you tonight? –Your idiot

You covered your mouth, a small laugh slipping out. He really had a way of tugging at you without even being there.

Later, when you finally got home, Keigo was waiting. He leaned against the counter, wings tucked neatly, arms crossed like he’d been rehearsing his entrance for hours. But his eyes—golden, uncertain—gave him away.

“So…” he started, tilting his head, “did my bribe work?”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your tone flat. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He pressed a dramatic hand to his chest, staggering like he’d been shot. “Love, that’s cruel. I bared my soul on scrap paper for you. That’s award-winning romance right there.”

You rolled your eyes, though the smile tugging at your mouth betrayed you. “Award-winning, huh? More like messy chicken-scratch.”

“Hey!” he protested, stepping closer. “This messy chicken-scratch won your heart once already. And, in case you didn’t notice, I’ve been confessing a hundred times a day without realizing it.” His grin softened, voice dipping quieter. “Every coffee. Every note. Every look.”

The irritation you’d been holding onto melted in an instant. You didn’t even realize you were still clutching the folded note in your hand until Keigo gently pried it from your fingers, setting it on the counter before wrapping you in his arms.

“I don’t care if we argue over small things,” he murmured into your hair, “as long as we end up right here. You and me.”

For the rest of the evening, he didn’t let the quiet linger. He kept busy—making dinner, sneaking kisses to your cheek, offering sweets he’d picked up earlier. Every action was his way of saying: “don’t stay mad, please.“