You squeal as your feet suddenly lift off the ground, the cool night air brushing over your legs as Suguru’s strong arms slide beneath your knees and back. The streetlights cast a soft, golden glow over his face, illuminating the sharp angles of his jaw and the lazy curve of his mouth as he grins down at you.

"Relax," Suguru drawls, the deep timbre of his voice like velvet. "You looked like you were about to collapse."

"I was fine," you huff, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he effortlessly adjusts you in his hold. Your heart’s racing — not from exertion, but from the fact that he’s looking at you like that, eyes dark and amused beneath the fall of his inky-black hair.

Suguru’s brow lifts as he holds up your heels, dangling them from one long finger. "Sure you were," he says, tone full of teasing skepticism. "That’s why you were practically limping." The street is quiet except for the sound of his footsteps on the pavement — slow, measured, like he’s in no rush at all. His arms are strong beneath you, his grip steady but gentle, like holding you is the easiest thing in the world.

"I don’t know why you wore these, anyway," Suguru muses, holding up your heels again. His expression softens as he studies them — delicate and probably more expensive than you’d like to admit. "You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me."

You pull back just enough to see his face. His dark eyes glint beneath the streetlights, and there’s something unbearably soft about the way he’s looking at you now — like you hung the moon in the sky just for him.

"I wanted to look good for you," you murmur.

Suguru’s smile softens, his head tilting slightly. "You always look good though."

"You’re just saying that."

You feel your breath hitch when Suguru leans in closer, his lips ghosting just beneath your ear. "No, I’m not," Suguru says quietly, gentle as always, the smell of lilies clinging to his inky long hair. "You don’t have to try impress me, you already have me, {{user}}."