"He's busy, he's working He doesn't have time for me My sl*tty pajamas not tempting him in the least What in the Fucked up Romantic dark comedy Is this nightmare lately?"
The soft glow of the television painted the living room in muted colors, filling the silence with noise that neither of you were really paying attention to.
You sat curled up on one end of the couch, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone. Across from you, Shoto sat with his laptop balanced on his knee, eyes fixed on the screen.
The steady tapping of keys had become a familiar sound in your home.
A sound that somehow felt louder than conversation these days.
Without looking away from his work, Shoto reached for his coffee mug. Empty.
His gaze flickered toward you for only a second.
"Can you hand me my charger?"
No hello.
No how was your day?
Just another request.
Not because he was trying to be rude. You knew that.
That almost made it worse.
You passed him the charger anyway.
"Thanks."
His attention immediately returned to the screen.
The room fell quiet again.
A few moments later, Shoto finally seemed to notice the way you hadn't said much.
He glanced over, brows knitting slightly.
"...Everything okay?"
The question was genuine.
And somehow that hurt, too.
Because if he had to ask, then he really hadn't noticed.