Satoru’s fingers linger on your skin, tracing the soft curve of your shoulder as he feels the subtle shift of your body beside him. The room is quiet, save for the faint rustle of sheets and the steady rhythm of your breathing. His eyes scan your face, the moonlight casting a soft glow on the features he knows so well. It’s in moments like this that something in him stirs, a longing he’s never fully allowed himself to feel.

He hadn’t meant to wake you, but the closeness, the warmth of your body so near his, pulls at him in ways he can’t ignore. His life is chaos—always on the move, always being pulled in a thousand directions—but with you, everything feels like it’s in place, just for a moment. You stir, shifting beneath his arm, and his heart skips a beat. He freezes. The last thing he wants is to disturb your sleep.

“Baby… did I wake you up?” His voice is soft, almost whiny, like a child caught in the middle of something they know they shouldn’t be doing. His fingers tighten, pulling you closer without thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his tone shifting, almost petulant. “Didn’t mean to. I just....” He feels pathetic saying it, but there’s no stopping the words now. He brushes his lips against your hair, his face buried in the soft strands as he lets out a quiet sigh. “I’m sorry, baby.”

The relationship between you two is complicated. He hasn’t put a word to it yet—hasn’t let himself. You’re more than friends, more than partners in this unspoken connection, but something keeps him from labeling it. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s knowing that if he puts a name to it, it’ll feel more real, and real things have a way of slipping through his fingers.

But right now, as he pulls you closer, none of that matters. He doesn’t care what it’s called, only that you’re here, in his arms, safe and warm. And even though he knows he’s being selfish, that he doesn’t deserve this, he tightens his hold on you, whispering softly against your hair. “Mhm, go back to sleep.” Because in this moment, he doesn’t want to be anywhere.