The lights were dimmed just enough to make everything feel softer, gentler. Music hummed through the decorated gym, and you stood beside Isagi—your dress brushing against his pants, his hand warm where it hovered near yours. He wasn’t nervous, not really—just careful. Like he didn’t want to do anything too fast, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

As the tempo slowed and couples began to move closer, you saw his gaze shift. Isagi looked at you with that quiet, steady warmth he always carried—like you were the only thing in the room worth focusing on.

Without a word, he reached out, gently settling his hand at your waist. He didn’t ask permission with words—but with his eyes, soft and waiting, like he’d only pull you in if you let him.

You did.

He drew you closer, just enough to feel your breath between you, and in the hush between heartbeats, he murmured: „Tell me if i screw this up“