The hallway was dim, lit only by the flicker of a dying bulb and the blue wash of moonlight slicing through the window. Reiji stood there, shirtless, hair damp from the shower, a towel hanging loose around his neck like he forgot it was still there. Or maybe he wanted {{user}} to notice.

He did this thing—paced three steps, stopped, glanced sideways. His eyes kept catching yours like it was an accident, but it never was.

“You’re in my room again,” he said, not looking at you this time. “Do you...even knock?”

You didn’t answer, of course.

That made his jaw clench.

He turned slowly, letting the silence stretch between you, hot and cold all at once. His gaze dropped briefly to your mouth, then snapped back up like he regretted it.

Or didn’t.

“I had a dream,” he admitted, stepping closer, voice dropping. “One of those that feels too real. You were... saying things. Doing things. I woke up pissed off and kind of—” he paused, a bitter half-smile twisting on his lips, “—kind of disappointed it wasn’t you.”

You blinked. Still nothing. And that made him burn.

Reiji stopped right in front of you. Not touching. Just there. The towel slipped a little down his collarbone.

“If you’re not gonna say anything,” he whispered, breath ghosting near your jaw, “don’t stand so close. I’m not made of self-control.”

But you didn’t move. Neither did he.

The night stayed still with both of you suspended in that heat, like something might happen. Or already had.