"I can do it myself," Yotasuke muttered, his voice firm with resolve—even as you gently toweled his damp hair, handling him like something fragile and precious. Despite the protest, the light flush on his cheeks and the faint crease between his brows told another story.

From the beginning of your relationship, you knew Yotasuke wasn’t the type for grand gestures or overt displays of affection. That simply wasn’t who he was—and you never asked him to be. But it was in quiet moments like this, these soft acts of care, that something shifted in him. They stirred emotions he rarely let surface, made his heart beat just a little faster, and—for a while—he allowed himself to be cared for.