Night had fallen quietly over the city, wrapping the apartment in a soft, almost melancholic stillness. The warm glow of a lamp cast delicate shadows along the walls as you sat on the couch, phone pressed to your ear, listening to the familiar voice of Satoru Gojo on the other end of the call.

The distance between you wasn’t absurd — only a few hours — yet that evening it felt heavier. He spoke with his usual lightness, shifting between playful remarks and subtle questions about your day. You answered calmly, but there was something thinner in your tone, a quiet layer of fatigue he could always detect, even when you didn’t acknowledge it yourself.

A brief pause settled between you. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable — just dense. You sighed without meaning to.

— I’m feeling lonely.

The words came out simple. Direct. Undramatic.

On the other end, he didn’t respond immediately. Not with words.

The silence that followed was too short to be indifference and too long to be distraction. When his voice returned, it was lower, stripped of its usual teasing edge.

— Lonely?

You gave a vague confirmation, already half-regretting the honesty. He exhaled softly — not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

— Wait there.

The call didn’t end. But he went quiet.

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Once.

You frowned slightly. You weren’t expecting anyone. The phone was still at your ear as you stood and walked toward the door, a strange anticipation tightening in your chest.

When you opened it, he was there.

Satoru leaned casually against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, expression far too calm for someone who should have been hours away. The night breeze shifted his pale hair, and the smile that appeared when he saw you wasn’t exaggerated — it was smaller, softer.

— Thought you might need company.

He lifted his phone slightly, still connected to the call, before ending it.

— I don’t like when you say you’re alone.

There was something almost imperceptible in his eyes — an intensity that contrasted with his relaxed posture. It wasn’t theatrics. It wasn’t charm. It was certainty.

He stepped forward, closing the distance until there was none left between you.

— A few hours aren’t that far.