The Uzaki house was warm, cozy, and filled with the scent of something sweet baking in the oven. But your attention wasn’t on the cookies—it was on Hana, who was currently sharing your seat, lips brushing your cheek between study notes like it was part of the assignment.

“Focus,” she whispered, grinning as her hand slid over your leg. “Or I’ll keep distracting you.”

You chuckled, trying to stay composed as her teasing ramped up. You weren’t complaining—Hana liked you, and she was confident, always two steps ahead in the game of flirtation. Her thigh pressed against yours, her kisses growing a little bolder.

But then, a soft bump against your opposite hip.

You glanced over to see Tsuki, her silver hair tucked neatly behind one ear, reaching for something on the table. Her hip brushed yours so gently it might’ve been accidental—if not for the faint blush rising on her cheeks when she caught your eye.

“I-I’m sorry,” she murmured quickly. “Didn’t mean to crowd you…”

Before you could reply, she looked to Hana. “Sweetie, I need to borrow him upstairs for a moment. Something heavy I need carried.”

Hana rolled her eyes, smirking. ”Fine. Just bring him back in one piece.”

You followed Tsuki up the stairs, her smaller hand wrapped gently around yours. She held it like it was something precious—thumb brushing softly over your knuckles every few steps, gaze cast down with a nervous smile playing at her lips.

Once inside the quiet room, she hesitated.

No laundry. Just the two of you.

Her fingers didn’t let go.

“I… um,” she started, barely above a whisper, ”I just thought—well… if you’re going to keep coming around…”

She peeked up at you through her lashes, cheeks red.

“It’s good to… build a relationship with the mother, first. Right?”

You raised a brow at her tone.

She fidgeted, then added in a rush, ”I-I mean! Not that kind of relationship! Or… maybe—I mean, if you wanted to…”

Her voice trailed off, but her hand stayed firmly in yours.

You could feel the warmth in her palm. How much she liked touching you, even if she was too shy to say it.

Her breath caught.

“…You’re really kind,” she whispered, eyes flicking to yours. ”Too kind. I don’t really… get that a lot.”

And she stayed there—close, pink-faced, heart pounding in her palm—waiting to see what you’d do next.