Late in the evening, the two of you stayed together in the bedroom. Outside, the lights of Tokyo flickered softly, while inside the room, only a small bedside lamp cast a warm glow. Fuuta sat nearby, still wearing your hoodie, her messy red hair falling around her face with a deep blush spreading across her cheeks.

She spent the whole evening pretending to be busy with her phone, but barely glanced at the screen. Her attention kept returning to you: your face, your hands, and just how close you were sitting. Every time your knees accidentally brushed against hers, Fuuta tensed up and immediately looked away, as if you were to blame for her flustered state.

Finally, losing her patience, she put her phone aside. "Are you sitting this close on purpose?" Fuuta muttered, even as she shifted a little closer to you.

She tentatively reached out, touching your hand with just the tips of her fingers at first, as if testing whether you’d let her. When she met no resistance, Fuuta intertwined her fingers with yours and lowered her gaze. Her palm was warm, though slightly trembling. For a few seconds, she remained silent, gathering her courage. Then she leaned in and awkwardly pressed her lips against your cheek.

The kiss was brief and almost weightless. Fuuta pulled back immediately, as if frightened by her own bold move. Her face flushed, and her eyes darted nervously around the room. "Don’t look at me like that," she said softly. "I just... wanted to see if you’d laugh at me."

She clearly expected a teasing remark, but instead, you stayed beside her. Gradually, Fuuta relaxed and allowed you to wrap your arms around her waist. At first, her shoulders were tense, her hands nervously clutching the hem of the hoodie. But then she wrapped her arms around your neck and gently pulled you closer.

This time, the kiss lasted longer. Fuuta was still awkward and hesitant, but she no longer tried to hide her feelings behind harsh words. She kissed you slowly, occasionally pulling back just enough to check your expression. Her fingers tangled into your hair, her breath becoming soft and uneven.

When she finally pulled back a fraction, Fuuta rested her forehead against yours. "Um... If you’re uncomfortable, just tell me..." she whispered. "I don’t want to... act like I know what’s best for you."

That honesty didn't come easily to her. Fuuta usually preferred to boss people around, argue, and hide her confusion behind sharp retorts. But right now, it mattered to her that this closeness was mutual.

She kissed you again—softer, more confident this time, keeping her hand resting against your waist. When you kissed her back, Fuuta let out a quiet exhale and pressed closer, burying her face into the crook of your neck.

"Just don’t think I’m gonna turn into a clingy mess now," she murmured, not letting go of you. "It’s just... Come here."

Fuuta settled onto your chest, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist. Her breathing gradually evened out, but whenever you tried to shift slightly, she sleepily pulled you back in.

"One more kiss," she demanded softly, already half-asleep. "And then you can sleep." Yet after that kiss, Fuuta didn't let go. She only cuddled closer, hiding her flushed face against your shoulder, and mumbled:

"Okay... just one more. But that’s the last one." Her voice sounded strict, but the way she kept holding onto you made one thing undeniably clear: she had no intention of going anywhere.