Aoyama noticed you sitting on the bench with your shirt slightly crooked, a smudge of dirt on your cheek, and your shoes hopelessly untied. He let out a breath—not exasperated, just… resigned.

“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured as he crouched down, tying your laces with precise, practiced movements. “If I don’t take care of you, you’ll trip before you even stand up.”

He straightened up, gently brushing the dirt from your skin with the edge of a handkerchief he reserved only for you.

“There,” he said quietly. “Try to stay clean for at least ten minutes… I’d appreciate the challenge.”