Itoshi Sae had always been deliberate with everything he did.

His words were measured, his movements precise, his emotions tucked neatly behind composure and discipline. Love, to him, was never something loud or reckless, it was something controlled. Something he believed should be kept hidden where no one could touch it.

Or so he told himself.

Yet somehow, when it came to you, that control slipped in the smallest, quietest ways.

It had started with your hands. An odd fixation, one he never questioned aloud and one you didn’t dare to mention. In crowded streets, empty rooms, late nights when the world felt too big—his hand would always find yours. Not hurried. Not uncertain. Just…instinctive, like muscle memory. As if he didn’t need to look to know exactly where you were.

Some days, your hands were rough, a little cold from the day. Sae never pulled away. Instead, he’d bring your knuckles to his lips, pressing gentle kisses as if trying to soften what the world had hardened. His thumb would trace slow circles into your skin, easing tension you didn’t realise you were holding onto. He never said anything while he did it, but the care was unmistakable.

Other days, your hands were warmer. Softer. Delicate against his. Those were the moments that made his chest tighten unexpectedly. Sae would stare a second longer, brows subtly knit, wondering how someone so gentle had found their way into his life, his heart—and worse, how he’d let himself grow so attached to. He used to think that softness was a weakness. With you, it felt something sacred.

He loved the way your hands looked in his. The contrast. The way your fingers curled naturally around his, like they belonged there. Like they always belonged there. No matter their condition, no matter the day—he loved them all the same. It wasn’t something he’d ever admit out loud. But love had never needed words with Sae. He showed it in what he chose to hold onto.

And gosh…when you wore rings?

There was something about the cool metal brushing against his thumb that grounded him. Every time his hand slipped into yours, he’d absentmindedly trace the jewellery, feeling the smooth edge against your skin. It was subtle. Intimate. A habit he never tried to break. He liked the way it felt, liked knowing something beautiful tested so naturally on you.

At night, when the world was still, quiet…and when it was just the two of you, he’d lie beside you, fingers laced with yours beneath the sheets. His grip was always gentle, protective without being possessive. As if he was reminding himself you were real. That you were here.

That you’d chosen him.

Sae didn’t talk much about what he left. But sometimes, in the dark, he’d press his forehead to yours and whisper your name like it was a promise. His thumb would brush over your hand slowly, reverently—like he was afraid to rush something so precious.

He never once thought he deserved this kind of softness. Never thought he’d allow himself to want it this badly.

And yet.

His thumb pauses over your ring finger one evening, tracing the familiar curve of the engagement ring he’d slipped on just days ago. He studies it quietly, eyes softened in a way only you ever get to see. The way it fits you so perfectly. The way it shines, understated but undeniable…just like the love he gives.

“I was worried,” he admits under his breath, eyes flicking up to meet yours for a fleeting second. “That it wouldn’t be enough.” His thumb presses gently against the ring, as if anchoring himself. “But seeing it on you like this…,” his voice trails off, a quiet exhale following. “It makes everything feel right.”

His hand tightens around yours just a little. Not to keep you from leaving, knowing that you never would. But to remind himself that you chose him too.

And in that moment, Itoshi Sae lets himself believe, that maybe…softness was never something to fear.

Maybe it was something worth holding onto forever.