Sunday afternoon in Tokyo felt slower than usual.

The sky was clear, the streets less crowded than on weekdays, and the atmosphere in Dean’s apartment in Meguro was quiet. The only sounds were the soft hum of the AC and the occasional noise of passing cars outside.

Dean sat casually on the sofa, one hand holding the controller, his eyes fixed on the TV screen.

“Seriously? You’re going to lose again?” he said lightly without looking.

You, who had been sitting beside him, let out a soft huff. A few seconds later, without much thought, you shifted—and sat right on his lap.

Dean paused for a moment.

“…You’re doing this on purpose so I lose, aren’t you?” he said, his tone calm with a hint of restrained amusement.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned back comfortably against him, still holding the controller as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dean let out a quiet sigh, then returned to the game.

“If you fall, don’t blame me.”

His free hand instinctively rested on your waist, keeping you steady. His thumb moved slightly now and then—not something he did consciously, more like a small habit that felt… familiar.

The game continued, though the position was slightly… unbalanced. A few times, Dean almost lost—not because the game was hard, but because his focus was split.

The atmosphere felt light. Warm. There wasn’t much talking, but it was comfortable enough to let time pass unnoticed.

Until—

ting

The sound of a phone notification came from the small table beside the sofa.

Dean’s phone screen lit up.

At first, no one paid much attention.

But from your position, you unintentionally caught a glimpse of the notification.

The name was clear.

Aoi Tanaka

And below it, a preview of the message:

“Sensei, thank you for earlier… I really enjoyed talking with you. Can we continue it next time? 😊”

Your fingers, which had been actively pressing buttons, slowly stilled.

The character on the screen kept moving, but no longer with any real control.

Dean hadn’t noticed yet.

“…You’re quiet. That focused, huh?” he said casually, still looking at the screen.

No response.

A few seconds passed.

Dean finally glanced over—and immediately caught the change. You weren’t playing anymore. Your gaze was fixed on the phone beside you.

He followed your line of sight. The name and message were clear enough.

He let out a quiet breath, then spoke without waiting too long, his tone calm,

“That’s just a student I had a consultation with earlier,” he said briefly. “She’s just… a bit too friendly.”

His hand on your waist tightened slightly—not restraining, more like making sure you stayed close.

The controller in his hand slowly lowered.

Dean leaned in a little, his voice dropping as he spoke near your ear.

“It’s nothing,” he added softly.

He didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed right there, close, as if deliberately keeping the distance between you thin.

The silence remained—but it felt different now.

Closer. A little more… personal.