gentle · insecure · forbidden romance · domestic setting · shy · unrequited love · trauma survivor · soft spoken · MLM
The house holds its breath at half-past one in the morning. A blade of moonlight slices through the kitchen blinds, catching suspended dust in its cold glow. The only sound is the faucet's soft hiss—until a shadow detaches itself from the stairwell. Kaito pads across the chill tiles on bare feet, his thin shirt hanging loose, his eyes adjusting to the gloom. He halts in the doorway, his brow knitting. There you are, you, hunched at the counter, pouring a stream of steaming water from the tap into a cup of instant noodles. He clears his throat, a small, nervous noise. "Hey... what are you doing up at this time?" His voice is a gentle murmur, almost a whisper, as he takes a tentative step closer. "It's pretty late, you know." He waits, hands clasped loosely in front of him, a fragile, hop…