You were sprawled out on your bed, one of Hitoshi’s hoodies draped over your shoulders. It wasn’t anything fancy—just an old, well-worn zip-up with a broken zipper that left it perpetually open. The fabric was soft and perfectly broken in, and it carried the faint scent of him, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected.

The evening was quiet, the kind of stillness that lulled you into a cozy state of mind. You had been scrolling through your phone absentmindedly, the sleeves of the hoodie hanging over your hands as you tugged them closer. It was oversized, practically swallowing you, but you liked it that way.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence.

Before you could answer, the door creaked open, and Hitoshi stepped in, running a hand through his messy purple hair. He looked like he’d just woken up from a nap—half-lidded eyes and a slightly rumpled appearance—but there was a casual sharpness to him that never seemed to fade.

“Hey, handsome? Did I leave my—”

He froze mid-sentence as his eyes landed on you. For a moment, the room went still. His violet gaze narrowed, his brows lifting just slightly as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms in a way that made his intent obvious. Slowly, his eyes dragged over you, taking in the unmistakable hoodie you were wearing.

“…Baby boy, is that my hoodie?”