The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of the city outside the window.

It had become a habit at this point.

No calls, no planning—just somehow ending up here. In the quiet, away from everything else. Away from expectations, from labels, from the people you were both supposed to be with.

Chuuya lay back against the pillows, one arm loosely around you as you were tucked against his side under the blanket. His fingers rested at your hip, absentmindedly tracing small patterns there like it was second nature.

It probably was.

“…Tch.”

He clicked his tongue under his breath, clearly irritated about something.

You didn’t even have to ask.

“Yuki’s been pissin’ me off lately,” he muttered, voice low but edged with frustration. “Always ‘busy’, always got something better to do.”

His grip on your hip tightened slightly—not rough, just enough to show how annoyed he actually was.

“I get it, people got lives,” he continued, staring up at the ceiling. “But it’s like I don’t even exist half the time.”

There was a pause.

Then a short, bitter scoff.

“…What’s the point of bein’ with someone if they don’t even show up?”

His fingers stilled for a moment before moving again, slower this time.

Chuuya turned his head slightly, eyes drifting down to you.

It was different with you.

It always had been.

No pretending. No chasing. No feeling like he had to prove anything.

Just this.

Quiet. Close. Real.

He exhaled softly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he shifted just a little closer, his hand sliding more securely around your waist.

“…At least with you,” he murmured, almost like he wasn’t fully aware he said it out loud,

“I don’t feel like I’m wastin’ my time.”