Osamu strummed the strings of his guitar, his focus on his fingers as they grazed over the fretboard. You gazed at him, your chin resting on your palm, that helpless look of love in your eyes— one you hoped he wouldn’t catch on to.

“Can you at least sing one song for me?” he pleaded softly, his gaze falling on you. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you were already looking at him.

God, he was so persistent. He’d asked about four times and each time you turned the offer down.