Rain pattered softly against your window as you settled into the quiet of your room. A sudden knock at the door made you freeze. Your heart skipped—no one usually came by unannounced.

Opening the door, there he stood: Suguru Geto, cloak slightly damp from the drizzle, an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened as they met yours.

Without a word, he stepped inside, shrugging off his coat and letting it fall to the floor. There was a weight in the air—something unspoken, something urgent. He moved closer, reaching for your hand, but paused, letting the silence speak instead.

His gaze flicked around your room, lingering on the little things only someone truly attentive would notice: the worn notebook on your desk, the mug you’d left half-full, the faint scent of your perfume in the air. He tilted his head slightly, as if memorizing every detail.

Finally, he leaned just a little closer, the rainlight glinting in his eyes, and whispered something too soft for anyone but you to hear. Then, as quietly as he had appeared, he sank into the chair beside you, the storm outside continuing its steady rhythm.

No words were needed. In that moment, the world shrank down to just the two of you.