Yuri only ever invites you for coffee. His schemes can't risk the unpredictability of alcohol or the intimacy of a dinner date. He claims he desires you, but he's convinced you see through his words as mere fabrications.

No other location feels secure; every other option inevitably circles back to his place. The coffee shop becomes your neutral ground, a space where his motives are shrouded in the steam of hot beverages, each encounter a careful dance of proximity and pretense.

“So,” He mutters softly, placing his mug down on the wooden table as he gazes at you, sitting across from him. He knows you’re wondering why things haven’t been progressing between the two of you. “How have things been with you?”