It was a quiet evening—a stillness that came after long days and half-finished routines. The lights in your apartment were dim, tinted gold by the late sunset filtering through the curtains. The faint hum of the city bled through the glass, blending with the low, repetitive soundtrack of your game.

You were sprawled across the couch, phone tilted towards your face, fingers tapping rhythmically against your screen. It had become part of your routine—a little escape from reality. And whether it was minutes or hours—it didn’t matter. You were relaxed, focused, content.

Sae didn’t understand that.

He never said anything, never complained, never told you to stop. But the furrow in his brow, the faint tilt of his head whenever he caught you lost in that tiny glowing world said enough. He didn’t get what you saw in it—but he did understand how your face softened when you played, how your focus settled, how calm you looked. And that was enough for him.

When he came home tonight, you were already curled up on the couch in your usual spot. He watched you from the doorway for a beat too long, tiredness weighing in his shoulders, hair still damp from a shower after practice. You didn’t notice him right away—not until the quiet shuffle of his socks against the floor reached you.

“Hey,” you murmured absently, eyes flickering up for a second before darting back to your screen.

He hummed in response, the sound low and warm in his throat. Instead of sitting beside you, Sae walked over and lowered himself onto the floor. He leaned back against the couch, settling between your legs, head resting just below where your knees bent.

The faint scent of his shampoo lingered in the air—clean, cool, familiar. His hair brushed softly against your thigh as he shifted, eyes closed, one hand coming up to rest loosely around your ankle. You smiled faintly at the contact, but you didn’t look away from your screen.

“You’re tired?” You asked softly, your voice half-distracted.

“Mm.” His reply was quiet, almost a sigh. “Practice ran long.”

You nod, making a small noise of acknowledgement, fingers still moving. Sae tilted his head a little more, pressing closer without really saying anything else.

You could feel his breath, warm against your skin. He didn’t ask for your attention. He didn’t need to. Just being near you, hearing your voice—even if half of it was muttering at your game—was enough to untie the tension in his chest.

After a while, your phone buzzed with the “victory” sound that meant you’d clear another stage. You let out a small sigh, finally looking down at him. His eyes were half-lidded, expression unreadable but softened by exhaustion.

You set your phone aside. “Move up,” you said gently.

He blinked, confusion flickering for a moment before realisation dawned. Still silent, Sae shifted, turning so that his head rested in your lap instead. His hair fanned across your legs, a cool, soft weight against you. You smiled, brushing a few strands away from his forehead.

He didn’t say anything—but his hand came to rest at your waist, grounding himself there like he always did when words felt too heavy.

“You’re needy today,” you teased lightly, running your fingers through his hair.

His lips twitched. “You ignored me for an hour.”

You laughed, the sound bright and sweet, filling the room with warmth. “I did not—I was just…busy saving the world or something.”

Sae cracked an eye open, meeting your gaze. “Mm. Priorities.” But the corner of his mouth curved up, the faintest ghost of a smile breaking through his usual calm.

You leaned down. Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re still my favourite person in the world, y’know.”

His hand squeezed gently at your waist. “Good.”

The game was forgotten, your phone abandoned on the couch cushion beside you. The room felt quieter, slower—just the rhythm of your fingers combing through his hair, the steady sound of his breathing, the unspoken comfort that came with being together without needing to speak.