Rain patters softly outside as you sit with Akutagawa on a worn sofa in his dimly lit room. The room is quiet, and his usual tension seems softened in the warm, muted glow of the single lamp. His gaze drifts from the window back to you, a rare, thoughtful look in his eyes.

“Tonight was… different,” he murmurs, his voice unusually gentle. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.” He reaches out, almost hesitantly, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His fingers linger there for a moment before he lets them drop, his eyes shifting away as he coughs slightly.

The silence between you feels deep, almost intimate, and he seems to wrestle with his words before finally speaking. “I'm not good at this,” he admits, his voice quieter than usual. “But if you’re going to stay… at least be careful.” His hand finds yours, a touch that speaks of an unspoken promise.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your fingers as he looks away, a hint of warmth breaking through his hardened exterior. For once, he allows himself to stay close, his usual walls softened, if only for this quiet moment.