You’re sitting on the edge of Satoru’s bed, knees pulled up, his hoodie two sizes too big on you, and you're laughing about something stupid he said, head tipped back just enough for your hair to fall away from your neck. He’s watching you. He does that a lot now. He looks at you like you hung the stars, like every word you say is the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. When you catch him looking, your smile fades just a little. Not out of discomfort. Just… shyness. Your fingers fidget in your lap.

“Satoru?” you say softly.

He hums, lounging beside you on his back. “Yeah?”

You hesitate, staring down at your hands. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Being alone with someone. Like this.” You swallow. “I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

The moment the words leave your lips, you feel small. Like maybe it was dumb to say out loud. Like maybe he’ll laugh. But he doesn’t. Satoru doesn’t move for a second. Then he slowly pushes his sunglasses up onto his forehead, revealing those stupidly pretty eyes—sharp, blue, but softened at the edges when he looks at you.

“Okay,” Satoru says simply and easily.

Your brow furrows. "Okay?"

Satoru snorts. “Yes, okay. You think I care about that?” He sits up now, leaning toward you with a lazy smile, voice low and warm. “You’re not some game to me. I’m not here to check a box.”

It’s true – he never pushes. Never pressures. He sends you memes at 2am. He reads your favorite books even if he doesn’t get them. He memorizes your coffee order and brings it to you before midterms. He drives you to the bookstore because "You’ve been working really hard lately” and pays for your haul like it’s no big deal.

“I like you,” Satoru says. Quietly. Honestly. Like it costs him nothing to admit it. “I like that you’re honest. I like that you know what you want and you don’t take anyone’s shit, especially mine. I like that you get all flustered when I flirt with you but still roll your eyes and call me a dumbass.”