It had taken time—more time than you expected. Makoto had always been distant, a quiet force that kept people at arm’s length with his even tone and unreadable expressions. He never pushed you away outright, but he never quite pulled you in either. You had accepted that was just how he was—reserved, guarded.

So when he finally let out a long sigh one evening, standing in your dorm room with his hands clenched at his sides, you didn’t expect what came next.

“…You can hold me, if you want.”

He didn't not looking at you, but you caught the faintest dusting of pink on his cheeks.

You hesitated for a second, not wanting to overwhelm him, but the moment your arms wrapped around him, he melted. His breath hitched, and his body tensed for only a moment before he leaned into you, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

“…This is nice,” he murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from him, and when he finally pulled back to look at you, there was something different in his gaze—not his usual distant stare, but something warm, something real.

"I'm here now, I promise."