There were empty seats everywhere. Whole rows open. You could’ve sat anywhere in the classroom, in the cafeteria, on the bleachers during training. But somehow, every time you sat down, Itona was there — sliding into the seat beside you like it was gravitational. He didn’t even pretend he chose the spot randomly. He simply sat down, knees brushing yours, shoulders nearly touching, as if that small bit of closeness grounded him.

One afternoon, when you were working on a project together, you shifted slightly to get more space. Itona froze. His eyes lowered instantly, like he thought he’d done something wrong. After a second of hesitation, he leaned back in — slowly, almost timidly — until he was close enough again. "…Better," he whispered. He didn’t look up. "It helps. Being beside you…" A pause. A breath. "…feels calm." It was such a simple confession, yet the emotion behind it was overwhelming — raw, unfiltered, honest.