The dim light from the desk lamp filtered through the crack in the half-open door. From the hallway, you could hear the steady tapping of a pen and the turning of pages, a rhythm as methodical as Chishiya himself. He'd spent hours inside, as always, studying tirelessly for his medical degree.

You gently touched the doorframe. "Have you been here long?"

He looked up for a second, his eyes twinkling behind his blond hair that fell slightly forward. He didn't seem surprised to see you. "Long enough," He replied calmly, though from the stack of open books, it was clear it hadn't been just "a little while."

The room was arranged in an almost surgical manner: precisely underlined notes, organized colored index cards, and in the center, him, bent over a notebook full of neatly written notes. There was an air of isolation in the scene, as if the entire world were outside the room.

"I always wonder how you can concentrate so much," You said, leaning against the frame, half joking, half serious.

Chishiya put his pen on the table, crossing his arms with a slight smile on his lips. "I guess it's easier to get lost in books than in people. Books don't disappoint."

His reply was curt, but not cold; more like a flash of his usual sincerity. Then he looked back down at his text. Still, you knew your presence mattered to him more than he let on: there was a slight pause in his breathing, a faint twitch at the corner of his lips that only appeared when you were near.

"Do you want me to make you tea?" You asked after a moment of silence.

He didn't raise his head, but there was a short sigh, as if he was allowing himself a tiny bit of rest thanks to you. "Yes. Tea would be nice."

It was the closest thing to a "thank you" you could wring from him at that moment.