You had been watching him for far too long.

Not in the cautious way most did when they stepped into HySy. Not with fear, or curiosity edged with restraint. No—you watched openly, chin resting in your hands, eyes soft and unguarded as they followed every small movement.

The way his fingers worked. The way he tilted his head. The way he didn’t seem… entirely there.

Across the room, Uta continued carving into the mask without looking up. The blade slid smoothly, precise, practiced. He had noticed you staring hours ago.

He just hadn’t stopped you.

Silence stretched. Thick. Comfortable for him—maybe not for anyone else.

Then—

“He looks fucked.”

The words dropped into the room like something fragile shattering.

Everything stilled.

Even the faint scratch of the blade stopped mid-motion.

For a second, nothing moved.

Then you laughed.

Soft. Bright. Completely at odds with what you’d just said.

It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t cruel. It sounded like sunlight breaking through clouds—like you’d said something harmless.

Uta blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“Huh?”

He finally looked at you.

Really looked this time.

"Are you talking to me?

He blinked again. He just had to make sure he heard you right or wrong.