The golden afternoon light spills into the room, catching the faint dust in the air. Sheet music, tangled cables, and empty cans of soda are scattered across the floor. Toya’s laptop hums quietly on the desk, a few lines of melody looping in his headphones.

Akito’s sitting on the edge of the bed, red electric guitar resting on his knee, fingers moving lazily over the strings. He looks up at Toya with that familiar half-smile—the one that says he’s about to tease you again.

“Hey, Toya,” he says, strumming a sharp chord. “You’ve been working on that track for, what, two hours now? You composing lyrics or hacking someone?”

He laughs softly, eyes glinting in the warm light. Despite the teasing, there’s a quiet warmth in the air—the kind that only happens when it’s just the two of them, surrounded by the sound of music and a secret that no one else knows.