“You always order the same thing,” Nanami murmured as he set the takeout box neatly in front of you, his tie already loosened after work. His apartment smelled faintly of coffee and aftershave, calm and steady like him.

He sat across the small table, sleeves rolled up, golden eyes glancing at you briefly before returning to his food. “Do you really like it that much, or are you just indecisive?”

The way he asked wasn’t sharp, just quietly observant—typical Nanami. It made you smile despite the undefined space between you two, the air already heavy with an unspoken closeness.