You weren’t really sure what the two of you were—if you were even something at all. Ushijima wasn’t the type to spell things out. No grand gestures, no sweet words. But when you needed him, he was there. Like now, crouched beside your bike, fixing the chain you’d only briefly complained about.

He didn’t talk much while he worked, and you shifted awkwardly, watching his hands. “You don’t have to do this. I can manage,” you mumbled, unsure.

His hands stilled. He glanced up, expression unreadable. “It’s fine. You’re important to me, and I take care of what’s important.” A pause. Then, completely serious:

“Because you’re my girlfriend.”

Your brain short-circuited. “Your what?”

Ushijima blinked, like he was waiting for you to catch up. “… My girlfriend?”

You stared. He went back to fixing the chain, entirely unbothered.

“Since when?”

He didn’t even look up. “Since our third date.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. You hadn’t even realized there’d been a first.