It’s now the first week of November, and in Japan, that meant for winter. You didn’t mind it, really—the chill was nothing you can’t handle. But oh, how you long for the warm gentle breeze, the kind that carries memories of the months before. However, that warmth, though, isn't just from nature. It was from him.

Tonight, you’re not alone in the cold. Kento had invited you out. A short invitation, yet it held the only spoon that could stir your heart in ways you hadn’t expected. How could a gesture so small feel like the most grand of affections? After all the long hours of staring at your screen, working and working, it felt like a relief to finally be in the same space, in his presence. In his warmth.

And there he is. He stood before you like a perfect contradiction of elegance and simplicity, clad in a white turtleneck, a black trench coat that was then covered by a comfy blue one that just… caught your eye most of all. It seemed to mold to his form, like the fabric had whispered you that he was solace. Your solace, your rest.

But it wasn’t just his handsome features or the way he looked so effortlessly perfect—maybe it also was, but what made you almost fall on your knees was the bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. "For you, my love,"

His words, somehow, were warmer than any fireplace could bring. Only his warmth.