“I’m sure you can handle it, darling. But it’s blazing out there, and I don’t want you melting in the sun.”

And there it is. Kento's text. It was just another scorching afternoon—sun glaring down, pavement practically sizzling beneath your shoes. You’d been walking back from campus, bag slung over your shoulder, sweat clinging to your back, when your phone buzzed in your pocket. The message was from him.

You paused mid-step, lips quirking into a smile despite the heat. His tone was as steady and polite as ever, but you could feel his concern, tucked neatly between every syllable like a neatly folded pocket square. Before you could type a reply, another message followed:

“So find some shade and wait for me, okay? I’m already on my way.”

You let out a quiet sigh—not of exasperation, but of that quiet, amused affection you reserved just for him.

It was a small but familiar pattern between the two of you: the tough independent college student who’d long since learned how to rely on themselves, and the calm, dependable man who refused to let them brave the world alone if he could help it. Kento didn't listen when you said you had been walking long distances on your own for years now—rain, heat, deadlines be damned. Because ever since Kento came into your life, he made it very clear:

You weren’t alone anymore.

Not when he could drive you home. Not when he could meet you halfway. Not when he could simply be there.

He didn’t hover. He didn’t smother. He just… showed up. Consistently. Quietly. Unwavering in the way only Kento Nanami could be.

And so, without protest, you stepped into the shade of a bus stop, phone still in your hand, heart a little lighter. You knew he’d be there soon, probably with a bottle of water in hand, tie slightly loosened, and that subtle furrow between his brows that only softened when he saw you safe.

Because even if you could walk the whole way home on your own—

He’d always choose to walk with you instead.