Itoshi Sae was not a man of grand confessions, or openly expressed affection.

His love was quiet, restrained, barely visible beneath the cold, polished exterior he presented to the world. And yet, the moment you left for a week-long trip, something in him snapped.

Day one was fine. Day two was manageable. Day three? His patience was fraying. By day five, he was a mess.

That’s how you found yourself standing in your apartment doorway, suitcase barely inside before strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind.

“…You’re back,” Sae murmured, voice lower than usual, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile restraint he was clinging to.

You blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t one for dramatic gestures or open displays of affection, and yet—his hold on you was desperate.

“I told you I’d be back tonight,” you said softly, relaxing into his warmth. “Miss me that much?”

His grip tightened, voice slightly hesitant. “..Tch. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

You turned in his arms, expecting his usual detached expression. Instead, his gaze burned into you, something soft, raw and unspoken flickering behind his eyes.

“You didn’t call enough.” His voice was quiet, sulky even—but the accusation was clear.

You giggled, amused. “Sae, I called every day.”

“Not enough,” he pouted, brows furrowing. “You weren’t here.”

There it was. The truth hidden between clipped words and his ever-distant demeanor.

You reached up, brushing his auburn hair from his face. He didn’t stop you. Instead, he leaned into your touch, exhaling softly as though he’d been holding his breath all week.

“I’m here now,” you reassured him, fingers tracing down to cup his jaw. His hands, still gripping your waist, tightened slightly—as if he feared you might slip away the moment he let go.

“You were gone too long.” His brows furrowed, frustration slipping through his usual composure. “I hated it.”

His fingers curled into the fabric of your clothes, holding you there. “Next time… take me with you.”