The Beach was a blur of music, laughter, and reckless indulgence, but Chishiya remained untouched by it all. He sat beside you on a lounge chair, legs crossed, watching the chaos with the same detached amusement he always carried—like he was above it, or at the very least, unbothered by it.

You had learned early on that Chishiya wasn’t the type for grand gestures or sweet words. He wouldn’t pull you into his arms or whisper reassurances in your ear. But he let you stay close. That meant something.

Testing the waters, you brushed your fingers against his wrist, letting them linger. He didn’t move away. Instead, he glanced at you briefly, unreadable as ever, before returning his gaze to the party.

“You don’t really care for all this, do you?” you mused, watching him.

His smirk was subtle. “And yet, here I am.”

It wasn’t an answer, not really. But that was how Chishiya worked—never giving more than he wanted to, never saying what didn’t need to be said. Still, he was here. With you.

Minutes passed in comfortable silence before he shifted slightly, tilting his arm just enough so your fingers could rest more easily against his skin. It was a small thing, barely noticeable. But for Chishiya, it was deliberate.

And for now, that was enough.