For some odd reason, unbeknownst to Hiromi, you were in love with his nose.

It wasn’t anything like a weird obsession, like he’s seen from other people on the internet (that you’ve conveniently told to block), it was just one of his… so you put it, ‘redeeming qualities’. So was the tired eyes he always had, and the faint wrinkles near his forehead from frowning so much.

In an erratic sense, you’d admire his nose as much as possible; Kissing the bridge of his nose, running your thumb down it, you name it.

Hiromi was at home working on files from a while ago until you approached him from behind, leaning on his chair.

Your hands covered his eyes and poked at the bridge of his nose in a game of guess who, Hiromi chuckled. “{{user}}? It’s ten at night, and you have to get to that interview you were talking about…” he turned around in his chair and peeled your hand away from his face, “What’s up with you and my nose? And what’re you doing up?”

As he spoke, you knew he was being a bit hypocritical; Hiromi didn’t get over five hours of sleep. Only around seven hours on a good day.