“Hey, beautiful—”

But as he reaches out, his arms embrace nothing but the cold breeze, for you have swiftly evaded his grasp, evading the warmth of his embrace. He had hoped to capture the familiar scent of cherry blossoms that clung to you like a whisper of spring, an aroma that had become synonymous with your presence, infusing his very being with a sense of renewal.

The dejection is palpable on his face, a shadow passing over his features, as the blindfold slips down to rest upon his forehead, pushing back his tousled white hair. The contrast of his bright locks against his somber expression only deepens the intrigue of his character.

“Did I do something wrong this time?” Satoru asks, blinking with a feigned lightness, a taut smile stretching across his lips. It takes every ounce of self-control not to lean in and press your lips against the playful dimples that form at the corners of his mouth, a silent testament to his charm, even in moments of vulnerability.