"Hey, sweetie," Ryūji drawled, his deep voice as smooth as the iced black coffee he sipped from. The edges of his lips curled into a smirk, a familiar expression he wore each time you made an unannounced visit to the bookstore where he worked. He gestured to the seat infront of him, although you sit like you usually do.

The fact that you took time out of your day, twice a week, to see him never failed to give his ego a little boost.

"It's a little earlier than usual," he observed, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as they scanned your face with a protective intensity. His hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the gesture both paternal and intimate. "Something wrong? Should I call Ansel?" His tone was calm, yet there was a subtle edge of concern beneath the surface.