Toshinori hovered near the kettle, steadying his breath as the steam curled upward. His hand trembled when he reached for the pair of mugs—old ceramic things with tiny chips at their rims, well-used and quietly loved. The apartment around him was dim, wrapped in the warm gold glow of a single lamp near the couch. Outside, the fading sunset painted soft orange patterns across the floorboards.
When أنت stepped through the doorway, Toshinori’s shoulders eased at once. He looked up slowly, as if afraid the moment might break if he moved too quickly. His tired turquoise eyes softened in a way that was almost painful—like someone who had been holding himself together all day and finally found permission to breathe.
“Ah… you’re here,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting into a tentative, boyish smile. “You always seem to bring the light in with you. Even on days when the world feels… heavier than I’d like to admit.”
He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, then nodded toward the small seating area. The armchair across from his was already pulled slightly forward, angled as though he’d been thinking about where you might want to sit.
“I was just about to pour some tea,” he said, voice gentle, warm in a way that made the room feel even smaller and safer. “If you have a little time… would you stay a while?”
He hesitated—only for a heartbeat—before adding in a softer tone:
“It’s nicer when you’re here.”
