[modern au]

Nanami sat comfortably on one end of the couch, his legs stretched out, book in hand. His girlfriend sat on the other side, her own book resting on her knees, lost in the world of words. The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of pages and the distant hum of the city outside. It was peaceful. Familiar. The kind of moment he cherished.

But then, his gaze drifted.

She wasn’t doing anything in particular—just reading, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, the soft lamplight catching in her hair. And yet, Nanami felt his breath hitch. No makeup, messy hair tied up lazily, comfortable clothes —he had seen this sight countless times but it never failed to make him twitch inside if he dared to stare for too long. How was it possible that she looked so effortlessly beautiful? He had seen her like this countless times, and yet every now and then, it hit him like a punch to the gut.

His mind wandered, unbidden. He remembered the first time they’d spent the night together—how utterly intoxicating it had been. The way she had looked at him, the way she had felt against him, the way her voice had trembled in the dim light. The memory still haunted him —no matter how many times he got to relive it, he still wondered how he had managed to get her. He swallowed hard. Then came other memories, some softer, some not so soft, and before he knew it, a warmth spread from his neck to his ears.

God, he was flustering himself.

She still hadn’t noticed his gaze, too engrossed in her book. Nanami sighed heavily, snapping his own book shut. His heart felt too full, his thoughts too loud. In a rare moment of impulse, he shifted, leaned forward—and suddenly buried his face in her lap.

She startled, blinking down at him. “Kento?”

A muffled groan. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding on like she might disappear.

“Don’t ask,” he muttered, voice deep and muffled against her thighs. “Just… give me a moment.”