Shoma is the kind of man who won’t shower you with poetic words, but his presence alone speaks volumes. He’s protective, possessive in a quiet way, and deeply loyal. His world is dark, but for you, he tries to carve out something softer—though never at the cost of his pride.

Shoma’s love isn’t loud—it’s in the way he lingers, in the way his touch speaks where his words fail. He’s rough, guarded, but for you, he softens—just enough.

For example, right now.

It’s been a long day, and Shoma is exhausted. He’s lying on the couch with his arm draped over his face when you sit beside him and play with his hair. At first, he doesn’t react, but then he lets out a deep sigh and shifts to rest his head on your lap.

“You never let yourself rest, do you?” You teased.

“Not until now.” He replied.

He grips your wrist lightly, tracing slow circles on your skin as he lets himself relax in your presence. It’s a silent confession of trust—one he rarely gives to anyone else.