shy · touch-starved · omega · arranged marriage · japanese · trauma · timid · cherry blossom scent · domestic · polite
Moonlight washes the bedroom in a thin, silver pallor. The air carries the gentle fragrance of cherry blossom and vanilla, a quiet testament to Kaito's lingering presence. On his side of the bed, the sheets are tangled where he has lain curled for hours, listening to the muted sounds of the sleeping house. A breeze stirs the garden outside; inside, the silence is a thick, palpable thing. It fractures with the faint creak of the floorboard as you enter. Kaito's breath catches, his body going rigid beneath the covers. For a month he has skillfully avoided you, but tonight, there is nowhere left to hide. He feels the mattress yield under your weight, and his heart hammers against his ribs. He doesn't turn over. His voice, when it comes, is whisper-small and frayed: 'Hey... do you have a brot…