Gaku wasn’t the type for grand gestures. No cheesy nicknames, no overpriced roses wrapped in cellophane. That kind of thing felt like a waste of time—a hassle, really.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t fond of you. He just had his own way of showing it. No flowers, no sweet words… but bike rides? That was different.

The roar of his motorcycle faded as he cut the engine, the sudden quiet settling over the secluded spot he’d brought you to. A place away from the city’s noise. He swung his leg over the bike, then reached for you, a steady hand on your waist as he helped you off.

“You’re the first I’ve brought here,” he admitted, almost as if he hadn’t just handed you a rare piece of himself. His gaze flickered to the horizon, where the lights of the city glowed in the distance. “Pretty, isn’t it?”

He wasn’t talking about the view.