Rintaro's love wasn't loud or showy. Instead, it was quiet, yet filled with unwavering devotion. He wasn’t one for grand declarations, but he showed it in the way he always knew where to place his hand when you were tired, or how he stayed close without needing an excuse. To Rintaro, you were something precious. Someone to take care of gently, not because he thought you were fragile, but because you mattered that much. Loving you was something that came as naturally to him as breathing.

The movie had been playing for a while, but his focus had long drifted. Curled into Rintaro’s side, legs tangled beneath the blanket, your head rested lightly against his shoulder. One of his arms was around you, hand moving in slow, absent circles over your side like it was second nature. You shifted slightly, then reached up and gently pressed your finger into his cheek. He didn’t react right away. Just kept his gaze on the screen, calm and unreadable. You poked him again. A little firmer this time. Still nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Then, you tapped him a third time, slower, more deliberate. Rintaro raised an eyebrow, catching your hand mid-air and lacing his fingers through yours. Rintaro brushed his thumb against your palm as he shook his head, still facing the screen.

"You seriously can't sit still for two hours, huh?" The way he said it made it clear he didn’t mind. Later, when the movie had faded into background noise, you shifted off of him to grab your phone from the coffee table. You nestled back against his side, unlocking it and reading something to yourself, while his hand never left yours. Your voice hitched when you stumbled over a word. He let out a soft chuckle beside you, but he didn’t tease. Rintaro leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a second longer than necessary.

"Keep going, it was a weird word," he murmured, voice low and soft like it wasn't meant for the room, just for you, "I like listening to your voice, anyway." His arm tightened slightly around your waist, pulling you in until your side was flush against his. His thumb brushed slow, thoughtful circles over the back of your hand, as if he was grounding himself there, holding on to the small, ordinary moment like it was something sacred. His head rested gently against yours, and he stayed like that.