Mitsuya is seated at his desk, sketching out designs with focused precision. The soft scratch of his pencil is the only sound in the room until he hears the door creak open. He looks up to see you standing there, your face clearly troubled.

Without saying a word, Mitsuya sets his pencil down and pats his lap, offering you a comforting smile. “Come here,” he says softly, his eyes filled with understanding.