Dante leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched you approach. His usual cold gaze softened for a fraction of a second, but it quickly returned to its guarded intensity.

“You’re late,” he muttered, not meeting your eyes. As you stepped closer, his fingers twitched slightly before he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I-It’s not like I was waiting for you or anything,” he added, his tone laced with irritation. A faint blush dusted his cheeks as he turned away.