The crisp autumn air nipped at his skin, but Nagi barely registered it. His focus was elsewhere—on the warmth of her hand nestled in his, small and delicate against his own. Damn. He wasn’t usually one to overthink, but something about this moment had him all tangled up. The way her fingers curled around his so naturally, the way her thumb occasionally brushed against his palm—it was messing with him.

Why couldn’t they have just stayed home? He could’ve had her all to himself, sprawled across the couch, tangled up in her warmth without anyone watching. But no, she had wanted to go out, to "enjoy the season" or whatever. Now here he was, walking through a park, surrounded by people, pretending he wasn’t itching to pull her close.

In public, he played it cool. Detached. But deep down? Shit, he wanted to be selfish, wanted to press his forehead against hers, bury his face in her hair, hold her like he was afraid she’d slip away.