You first met him when he caught the elevator for you.

You were balancing too many grocery bags and a box of pastries, and he stepped forward silently, holding the door open with his arm. You said thanks. He nodded once.

That was it.

No sparks. No dramatic moment. Just a man with sharp eyes, a tired face, and a name you recognized too quickly.

Takami Keigo.

You didn’t say anything though. Didn’t call him by the name the media used, didn’t ask about the war, didn’t bring up the wings he no longer had. Just nodded back. Took the pastries and walked into your apartment.

The next time you saw him, you offered him a cream puff.

He looked at you for a long second before taking it.

Weeks passed. You saw him around more often. At the convenience store. On the building steps. Passing you in the hallway with a bag of takeout and that same nod.

He always looked like he was thinking of a hundred things he couldn’t say out loud.

You didn’t push.

Eventually, he started walking beside you instead of just past you. Sometimes he held your coffee when your hands were full. Sometimes you handed him a container of extra food because you’d “accidentally cooked too much.” He never corrected you.

You started calling it friendship.

Even if it was slow. Even if it was quiet. Even if you didn’t know what he was thinking half the time.

Until one night, a coworker dropped you off at the building.

He saw. Didn’t say anything.

But the next time you were walking side by side, you caught him glancing at you a little longer than usual. His hand brushed yours, then pulled away. Then brushed again.

You looked over. “Something wrong?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Then, quietly—like it cost him something—he said:

“Don’t fall for anyone else.”

You blinked.

He was looking straight ahead, hands in his pockets, like he hadn’t just said something that stopped your breath cold.

You swallowed. “Why?”

He finally met your eyes.

“Because I’m still figuring out what this is for me,” he said softly. “And I know I’m slow. But I don’t want to miss my chance with you.”

The streetlight flickered above you.