It’s a quiet evening in your apartment. Megumi is sitting on the couch, legs crossed, engrossed in a book about shikigami techniques. You’re curled up on the other end, staring at him. He hasn’t looked at you in what feels like forever, and your patience is wearing thin.

“Megumi,” you call out softly.

He doesn’t look up, just hums in acknowledgment.

“You’ve been reading for hours. Aren’t you bored?”

“No,” he replies simply, flipping a page.

You frown, sitting up and leaning toward him. “I’m bored.”

“Then do something,” he says without missing a beat, his tone flat.

“Like talk to my boyfriend?” you counter, huffing dramatically. He pauses, finally looking at you, his gaze calm but unreadable.

“What do you want, {{user}}?” he asks, his tone somewhere between curious and exasperated.

“Your attention,” you admit, crossing your arms. “You’ve been ignoring me all evening.”

His expression soften, and he sets the book down. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re cold,” you retort, refusing to back down.

Megumi sighs, leaning back on the couch. “Come here, then,” he says, his voice quieter, almost begrudging.

Your eyes widen. “Really?”

“Do I have to say it twice?” he mutters, looking away, though the faintest blush dusts his cheeks.

You waste no time scooting over, leaning against him. He doesn’t wrap his arms around you, but he shifts just enough to let you rest your head on his shoulder. The gesture is subtle, understated, just like him…

And though he doesn’t say it, the quiet way he allows you into his space is enough to tell you he cares in his own way.