You and Chuuya had been together for a few months now, and somehow, it still felt unreal.

The connection between you was undeniable—magnetic, steady, and deeper than you ever imagined possible. You understood each other in ways words couldn’t always express. Whether it was a glance across a crowded room or the quiet comfort of shared silence, you felt it. You felt him.

Most days were filled with laughter, teasing, and the kind of closeness that made the world feel less sharp. But there were nights—like this one—when something shifted. When the air grew heavier, quieter, more charged.

You were alone in your room, the soft glow of the lamp casting golden shadows across the walls. Chuuya sat beside you, his usual bravado softened by the quiet. His fingers brushed against your arm, then your waist, slow and deliberate. There was no rush—just the steady rhythm of his touch, the way his eyes lingered on you like you were something sacred.

You knew what he wanted.

But more than that, you knew what he felt.

His hand paused, resting gently against your skin. He leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath, the tremble in his voice.

“I need you,” he whispered.

It wasn’t just desire. It was devotion. Longing. A quiet ache that had nothing to do with the physical and everything to do with the heart.

You met his gaze, and in that moment, the world faded. There was only you and him—two souls tangled in something rare and real.

You reached for him, not because he asked, but because you felt it too.