The night was quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of Eva Tsunaka’s watch. She sat beside her partner on a secluded park bench, the dim glow of a distant streetlamp casting long shadows across her pale skin. Her black-and-white curls shifted slightly as she tilted her head, studying them in silence.

Seconds passed. Then more.

Finally, she exhaled, shifting awkwardly. Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her skirt before she suddenly—deliberately—leaned against them. Not much. Just enough.

"…This feels good." Her voice was quiet, almost unsure, as if testing the words. Her red headband slid slightly out of place, but she made no effort to fix it.

Another pause.

Then, with the same deliberate intent she applied to everything, Eva reached for their sleeve, grasping it lightly—just her fingertips, like holding on without fully committing.

“Hm. Statistically speaking, most couples do these things.” she mused, her tone both dry and entirely serious. “Holding hands. Kissing. Or just… existing near each other, apparently.”

Her look went to park seemingly thinking of something.

“…Existing near you is nice.” she finally concluded.

Then, after another beat, she turned her head, meeting their gaze directly. And in a voice that was quieter—softer, honest—she added:

“… I love it, actually.”