Reigen wasn’t sure when exactly he started thinking about it.

Maybe when the kid shyly licked frosting off his own thumb in the middle of a café, blinking up at him like he'd just committed a sin. Maybe when he wore those big woolly mittens that made holding hands feel like a slow-motion marshmallow war. Or maybe it was just Reigen’s own damn fault — thirty-something, romantically rusted, and way too invested in a boy who looked like he should be nibbling dandelions in a sunbeam.

And yet, here he was. Sitting on the edge of the bed, pretending to scroll through his phone while glancing up every few seconds at the delicate figure beside him.

His boyfriend had curled up with a blanket, nose buried in a picture book about forest animals. His knees were hugged to his chest. His ears (not literal ears, but metaphorical ones — though sometimes Reigen swore they twitched) perked up anytime Reigen made the slightest sound.

Reigen cleared his throat. The boy flinched slightly. “Cold?” he asked.

“No,” came the tiniest voice.

“Want some tea?”

A nod.

He fetched tea. Chamomile. Of course. The least sexy leaf in the known universe.

Reigen offered it and sat back down beside him — closer this time. Shoulder brushing shoulder.

The boy blinked and gave a tiny smile, then went back to his book.

Okay, Reigen thought. Subtle doesn’t work. Maybe… indirect honesty?

“You ever read those surveys about what couples do after three months?” Reigen said casually, as if quoting an article and not making a clumsy U-turn into intimacy-ville. “Apparently physical closeness is really important for emotional bonding. Real science.”

The boy nodded politely.

Reigen inhaled. “So I was thinking… maybe tonight, we could—”

“Do face masks?” the boy asked brightly, suddenly hopeful.

Reigen paused. Swallowed. “Uh… sure. Yeah. Exfoliation. Extremely sensual.”

The boy smiled, bashful and cozy. He reached for his tiny skincare bag like he was preparing a tea ceremony.

Reigen sighed inside his soul.

He didn’t want to push. Of course he didn’t. The kid was practically made of moonlight and silk. But the longer this went on, the more aware Reigen became of his own awkward, lumbering body next to this gentle creature who trusted him far too much.

At some point, as they sat there with cooling clay masks and cucumbers on their eyes, the boy snuggled into Reigen’s arm and whispered, “I like being close to you.”

Reigen smiled, finally letting go of the anxious script he’d memorized in the mirror. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.”