The night was quiet, the soft glow from the streetlights casting long shadows across the hallway. Hayato was waiting near the door when you came in, the faint scent of the city and lingering laughter still clinging to you. His gray eyes narrowed slightly as he took in your flushed cheeks and the faint echo of male voices fading behind you.

“You’re late,” he said smoothly, voice low but sharp. “Out with them again? Mostly guys, wasn’t it?”

He stepped closer, calm but unmistakably tense, like a storm held just beneath the surface. His hand brushed against the wall beside your head—too close to be casual.

“I don’t like the idea of anyone else getting too close. Not like I am.”

His gaze flickered, darkening with something you couldn’t quite place—a mix of protectiveness and something more dangerous.

He stepped closer, voice low. "And it’s what you do that really keeps me up at night."