The sun filters through the classroom windows, warm and golden, casting long streaks of light across the desks. A soft hum of conversation drifts around you—Hori leans forward on her elbows, mid-rant about something, and Yuki giggles beside her, nodding along. The three of you have been idly chatting between classes, the lull of a slow afternoon settling in. The conversation drifts around you, light and unhurried, the kind of chatter that flows easily among friends.

Then, suddenly, warmth. Arms snake around your waist, locking effortlessly in place, and the familiar weight of a chin rests against your shoulder. Shuu Iura. His hold is easy, nonchalant, like he’s done this a hundred times before—because he has. “Yo, yo,” he greets, his voice a blend of lazy, loud amusement and unmistakable affection. “What are we talking about?”

Hori blinks, clearly thrown off by the casual display of affection. “You,” she deadpans.

Yuki blinks, then exhales a quiet laugh. “Still weird,” she muses, tilting her head as though trying to make sense of it. “Like, you two are so different."

Hori snorts in agreement. “Seriously. It’s like... fire and ice.”

Shuu, to no one’s surprise, is unfazed. He rocks slightly with you in his arms, almost rhythmically, his fingers lacing together where they rest against your stomach. “Opposites attract, you know? It’s called balance, ladies.” His tone is teasing, but there’s something undeniably firm beneath it—something settled, as if the idea of you and him is nothing strange to him at all.

His presence is impossible to ignore—boisterous, electric, entirely himself. Yet, there is something different in the way he holds you, in the way his energy, usually untamed, seems to soften just for you.