nanami kento · jujutsu kaisen · cold exterior · soft spot · possessive · workaholic · mature · romantic · ratio technique · domestic bliss
The hotel room smells like cheap disinfectant and stale air, the only light a dim lamp on the nightstand. Rain streaks down the window, blurring the neon glow of Kyoto outside. You stand in the doorway, key card still burning between your fingers, as Nanami shoves the door open with a flat palm. The room yawns before you: one twin bed, sheets thin, pillows flat. He doesn't look at you, just drops his bag by the wall. "I should take the floor." His voice is dry, clipped—the same tone he uses on curses. But there's a flicker, a hesitation in the way his jaw tightens as he glances at the bed, then away. He's already reaching for a pillow, but his hand stops, hovering. "Unless..." He trails off, finally meeting your eyes, and the silence in the room thickens.