You leave the club, needing to relieve some stress with some friends, only to find a familiar figure leaning against the wall as you breathe in the cold air.

“I saw you with that guy earlier,” Satoru says,

“He kiss you better than I did?” He asks, and he leans in slightly. His eyes are narrowed, his trademark blindfold somewhere else. He moves in closer, just a tad. He’d seen it all then — the kiss, the dancing. God knows what else.

“Touch you better than me?” he murmurs, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips for a split second. He doesn’t even sound like he’s asking — just saying it for the hell of it. Like he knows the guy didn’t.

“Hm?” he hums and tilts his head, lips ghosting over yours, as he looks into your eyes, eyebrow raised and a slight smirk to his lips.

He’s not jealous, just… curious.