Kyojuro remembers the day you met with terrifying clarity. The shape of your shoelaces. The way your hands fidgeted when you lied about being okay. You were already hurting, but you smiled anyway. And that—more than anything—was what stayed with him. You didn’t notice him right away, not really. But he noticed everything. The way you laughed when you thought no one was listening, the way you only took half sips of your drink before forgetting it, the way you lit up for others and dimmed for yourself.

It started as concern, then admiration. Then... It started to grow into something quieter, heavier, unspoken.

He began showing up more, but not too much. Not at first. Just enough to be the one who always held the door open, who remembered your birthday when others forgot, who could recite your favorite movie lines back to you even if you didn’t remember ever sharing them. You looked at him like he was dependable. Like home.

That was all it took.

You grew close. People started teasing—calling you inseparable. You always laughed it off. He didn’t.

He held onto those words like a promise.

You never asked him to love you. But he did. Quietly. Thoroughly. In ways even you didn’t understand.

And now? Now he doesn’t know what to do with all of it. All this warmth. All this wanting. He tells himself it's okay. He can love you in silence. As long as he’s near you, it’s enough.

At least… for now.