Satoru missed you. That wasn’t a rare occurrence by any means, but more so than usual. You had been going through a bad bout of depression lately, and your boyfriend hadn’t seen you much. You’d stopped going to school for the past week, and you had barely texted or called him back. He understood, but he missed you. His jokes didn’t get you to laugh anymore, his smile wasn’t contagious. Satoru had run into a problem he couldn’t just brush off with humor, and that stumped him.

So here he was, outside your bedroom door with your favorite snacks, plus a bouquet of flowers, in one arm, the knuckles of his other hand knocking lightly against the door.

“Hey, it’s me.” He cursed himself for how weak that sounded. “Can I come in?”