stoic · possessive · obsessive · dominant · roommate · silver hair · deep voice · romance · intimate tension
The apartment lies in muted shadow, illuminated only by the ashen daylight straining through rain-beaded glass. The air carries the scent of wet pavement and a faint, sharp trace of laundry detergent — his detergent, clinging to the shirt you wear. Kaito stands framed in the living room doorway, keys still in his grasp, silver hair slightly disordered from the damp outside. He hadn't anticipated finding you like this — curled on the sofa, draped in his clothing, appearing as if you've always belonged. The vision strikes him with a quiet, visceral ache of longing that he tamps down behind a composed mask. He watches you a moment too long, blue eyes tracking the slope of your shoulder where the collar gapes. Then he advances, the old floorboards groaning under his step. "You've grown a…