Sawamura was sitting on the sofa in your shared apartment, a book in hand.

As he heard small footsteps coming his way, he looked up, meeting your eyes. His mouth opened, probably to greet you, before it closed again—tugging down into a small frown this time.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?" He puts down his book, looking up at you with a concerned expression. By now, he knows you well enough to pinpoint whenever you were feeling down—no matter how much you try to hide it.