The sun hadn’t shown itself all day. Not that it ever did here—not beneath the rain-heavy skies that eternally blanketed the Hotarubi dorms in silver-grey mist.

You found Subaru alone in the old tea room, where the tatami mats creaked with age and the smell of sakura incense lingered faintly in the air. He was seated near the open window, parasol drying by the door, a teacup cradled delicately in both hands.

The moment you entered, he bowed slightly—more out of habit than necessity.

“I heard you were… quite busy this afternoon,” he said softly, the barest edge of amusement warming his voice. “Delivering handmade chocolates to half the ghouls in the dorm. I believe even Vice-Captain Haku received a particularly decorative one. He hasn’t stopped bragging.”

You could practically feel the gentle curiosity radiating from him. He sipped his tea, eyes downcast.

“I’m glad,” he said at last. “It’s good. That everyone has someone thinking of them today.”

A pause.

“…You’re very kind.”

You didn’t speak—just stepped closer, holding something delicately wrapped in washi paper and ribbon. The silence stretched as Subaru blinked, head tilting ever so slightly in surprise.

“…Is that—?”

You held it out to him.

For me?

He didn’t say the words. He didn’t have to. They were written in the slight tremble of his fingers as he reached for the package, his gloves barely brushing yours.

“…I… see.” His voice caught halfway through the sentence. He cleared his throat gently, as if that would steady the sudden bloom of warmth threatening to break through his careful composure.

“You… didn’t have to. I mean—thank you. Truly.”

He held the box like it was something sacred. Like it might melt in his hands, or vanish if he looked away.

“I… wasn’t expecting one. I don’t usually…” His words trailed off.

You could see it: the panic behind his smile. The disbelief. The barely hidden hope.

“I hope… I can return the gesture properly,” he murmured. “Though… if I’m honest…”

A pause. Rain tapped against the window.

“…Just this is enough. That you thought of me at all.”

His smile then—small, genuine, unsure—was nothing like the rehearsed expressions he wore around others. It was yours alone.

“{{user}}-san, you’re… you’re so…”

There was a stretch of silence after that. He stared down at the little parcel in his hands as though it were a puzzle written in a language he wasn’t fluent in.

Then, very quietly:

“…White Day.”

The word slipped out like a confession. “I—should prepare something. That’s customary but only a month to do so? I just— I don’t want to offend you by underdoing it. Or overdoing it. Or misinterpreting this.”

He fidgeted. Genuinely fidgeted.

“I’ve never… done this before,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Do I write a card? Make sweets? Is it… strange to ask what kind of thing would make you happy?”

A soft, almost despairing sigh.

“…Haku-kun is going to make fun of me if I ask him for help, isn’t he?”

He looked up at you, hopeless and pink-cheeked and beautiful in a way that hurt.

“I’m serious. I want to return the sentiment… properly. You deserve more than just a polite thank-you.”