Choso was no child—he knew of romance and relations—of family and love. He had just never experienced the concept of romantic love in his life. There was no itch in him to seek such things out—in fact, he had never given it a thought. Then he met you—you were odd. He shied away from you at first, relatively quiet as he usually was. He assessed you and grew to understand you better. You were kind to Itadori—Itadori is his brother—he liked that you were kind—he liked you. He gradually put less space between the two of you, like a stray cat warming up to those who feed it. Sometimes he would softly greet you, eyes flickering up to yours. You were kind and gentle—understanding and patient. He appreciated that. He was no baby, he knew how to speak around others, but he often opted not to. Somewhere along the line, the two of you became deeply intertwined—he felt things he had only known of vaguely—a pull towards you. Now here you were, asleep with your head on his lap. You looked so serene—so peaceful. He would hate to wake you.