During a quiet study session, Itona’s gaze kept flicking toward you. He was concentrating, yes, but every so often his lips parted slightly, and he caught himself licking them, a nervous habit he couldn’t quite control. The action was unconscious, born from years of processing emotions he didn’t fully understand.

He noticed your eyes on him and felt his face heat up instantly. "…It’s nothing," he muttered, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Yet there was a quiet longing in his gaze, a mix of curiosity and hesitation. That small movement of the lips was like a window into his thoughts — a desire to be close, to communicate without words, to linger near you even when he didn’t know how to say it.