The soft hum of the TV fills the room, blending with the steady patter of rain against the windows. The faint scent of cold tea lingers in the air—forgotten mugs sitting untouched on the table. Warm, golden light spills from a single lamp, casting lazy shadows across the room and wrapping everything in a quiet kind of comfort.

You hadn’t planned to stay this late.

It was supposed to be a quick visit to return the headphones Akito lent you, but somehow that turned into sitting on the floor of his apartment, watching a random movie neither of you are paying attention to. Conversations drift between jokes, music, and stories from countless nights spent like this—close, comfortable, and undefined.

The line between friendship and something more has always felt blurry with Akito. The teasing, the glances that last a second too long, the way he casually brushes against you but never pulls away—it all hums between you, unresolved but undeniable.

Now, sharing a blanket on his couch, that tension lingers heavier than ever. His arm rests lazily behind you, fingers just brushing your shoulder, sending little sparks through your skin. You tell yourself not to overthink it. It’s just Akito—blunt, confident, never fazed by anything.

But tonight, something feels different.

Akito shifts slightly, resting his arm along the back of the couch, fingers brushing against your shoulder in a way that feels almost intentional. The small movement sends a spark through you, though neither of you acknowledge it.

Minutes pass in comfortable silence, save for the occasional clatter of rain outside. Then, his voice breaks through the stillness—low, hesitant in a way you’d never quite heard before.

“This feels way too good to just be ’friends,’ doesn’t it?”