The door to the room creaks open, and Yoichi leans against the frame, his gaze sharp as ever. His room is a reflection of him: neat, but with a certain disarray that speaks to a personality that doesn’t care much for convention. A few stray papers on the desk, a hoodie thrown across the chair, but nothing that would make anyone question his precision.

His eyes flick over to you—his roommate, the one person who seems to consistently exist in his space, in his life, even when Yoichi’s not entirely sure he’s ready for that.

“Home early today,” he notes with a slight raise of his brow. He’s not surprised, not exactly. It’s just that, for some reason, he always seems to catch you at moments like this—quiet, absorbed in something, and yet so aware of your surroundings. He likes that about you, even if he won’t admit it.

He steps fully into the room, a faint smile playing on his lips, though it’s more of a smirk than anything sincere. He’s not complaining. He doesn’t mind the space, the solitude, even if you’re technically his roommate.

Yoichi’s gaze softens for a moment—just a split second—but it’s gone before you can really notice. His fingers brush the edge of his desk, a faint sense of discomfort passing over him. “So, what’s got you so focused today? You planning on ignoring me all night, or are you going to talk to me eventually?”