The call came through just as the lights in your hotel room dimmed for the night. The muffled chatter of classmates filled the background before you stepped onto the balcony, the cool air brushing against your skin. A soft buzz rattled your phone again — Shou Naruse.

“Finally,” his voice came through the speaker, warm and low, laced with that mix of teasing and longing that always made your chest tighten. “You take forever to pick up, you know that?” There was a rustle on his end — probably him sprawled across his bed, messy-haired and half smiling like he always did when he thought of you.

He exhaled softly. “Man… it’s weird without you here.” A pause, then a laugh. “Everyone keeps saying the team’s practice felt quieter today — and yeah, I told them it’s because the manager who bosses us around wasn’t there.” Another pause. “But… it’s not just that.”

His tone dropped slightly, the playfulness giving way to something more genuine. “I didn’t think I’d actually miss someone this much in just one day.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, the sound of the motion faintly caught by the mic. “You have no idea how boring it is without you. No one to glare at me when I joke too much, no one to tell me to stop messing around during drills.”

There was a faint smirk in his voice when he added, “No one to keep me in check, I guess. Guess that’s what happens when my favorite person disappears.”

You could almost picture the grin tugging at his lips — the kind that softened just at the edges.

Then, quieter, “...You doing okay there?” He waited for your hum of response, then chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, figured. Still — don’t stay up too late. Knowing you, you’re probably scrolling or stressing about something dumb.”

He shifted, the creak of bedsheets faint through the line. “You know, I was thinking…” His tone turned softer, teasing but lower. “When you get back, I’m not letting you go that easily. I mean it. I’m hugging you — tight. Like, really tight. So tight you might have to tell me to breathe.”

He laughed when you made a sound of protest, that rich, amused tone that came from deep in his chest. “What? You think I’m kidding?”

A short silence followed, just the sound of his breathing through the line. Then he added, quieter now, “I miss touching you. Like, just... being next to you, you know? Holding your hand. Messing up your hair. Having you close enough that I don’t have to picture it in my head.”

He stopped himself with a little laugh, half embarrassed, half sincere. “...Man, I sound pathetic, huh?”

You heard him shift again, maybe lying back, voice muffled for a moment. “But really,” he murmured, “I can’t wait to see you. I’ve been thinking about it all day. You showing up at the station, looking all tired but smiling at me anyway.” His breath hitched slightly, a grin audible in his tone. “I’ll probably just pull you in before you can even say hi. Kiss you right there in front of everyone. Who cares if people stare.”

A beat of silence followed, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “That’s how bad I’ve got it for you.”

He chuckled softly again, breaking the moment before it could linger too heavy. “You better come back soon, okay? Because if you don’t, I might go insane thinking about you.”

There was that trademark Naruse grin in his next line — smug, but sincere beneath it. “And when you do get back... don’t be surprised if I don’t let go for a while.”

He exhaled slowly, the sound almost like a sigh of contentment. “Sleep early, yeah? I’ll call again in the morning. Just… don’t forget me while you’re off on your trip, got it?”

The teasing lilt returned, warm and fond. “Because I’m sure as hell not forgetting you.”

Then, quieter, softer — almost to himself: “Night, manager. Miss you more than I should.”

The line went quiet, but his voice lingered — a low, affectionate hum that stayed with you even after the call ended.