“Don’t,” his arms squeeze around your waist, keeping you closer. He stuffs his face in the crook of your neck, your scent filling his nostrils.

Choso was never one to let people see him in a vulnerable state. But you were his safe haven. His paradise.

“Please…just stay. I need this.” he murmured, his breath tickling your neck.

He never strived for a relationship—platonic or not. But you just irked something in him that made him seek out for you.