his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.
For the first time in a long while, Pakura felt something other than loneliness.
The morning after her confession was a strange mix of tension and something else—something Pakura couldn't quite place.
Souta, of course, wasted no time taking full advantage of it.
It started with small things, little nudges and teasing remarks. At first, Pakura thought she could ignore it, that maybe he was just testing the waters. But she quickly realized that Souta was the type to push until he got a reaction.
"Pakura."
She turned, already wary. "What?"
Souta stretched lazily on the couch, giving her an expectant look. "I could use a massage."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"My shoulders are tense," he continued, rolling them for effect. "It's been a long day."
Pakura crossed her arms. "So?"
"So, since you like me so much, shouldn't you be a little more thoughtful?"
Her face flamed. "I never said—!"
Souta grinned. "You did. Quite a confession, too."
Pakura groaned, rubbing her temples. "You...."
She sighed, already knowing she wasn't going to win. Reluctantly, she moved behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders, fingers digging in slightly more than necessary.
Souta exhaled, his head tilting back slightly. "Not bad."
"Good." She pressed harder.
"Okay, okay—don't try to break my bones."
She smirked. "Oops."
He chuckled, letting her continue, and for a moment, it was almost peaceful. But of course, Souta wasn't one to leave things alone.
"You know, Pakura," he mused, tilting his head slightly. "You're getting awfully comfortable touching me."
She froze.
His smirk widened. "Not that I mind."
Pakura yanked her hands away, face burning. "Forget it."
"Aw, don't be shy now." He leaned back, resting an arm over the couch. "Come on, you were just getting good at it."
She shot him a glare, but it only made him laugh.
By dinner, he was still at it. Every time she passed by, he'd make some offhanded comment—about her posture, the way she carried herself, even how she ate.
"Pakura, you eat so neatly. Did someone teach you that, or are you just naturally uptight?"
She nearly choked on her food. "What kind of question is that?!"
"Just curious." He smirked. "I think it's cute."
Later that night, as she was getting ready to sleep, she felt his presence behind her.
"Souta, what now?" she sighed, not turning around.
A pause. Then, his voice, quieter this time. "You don't regret saying it?"
Pakura blinked, caught off guard. She turned, meeting his gaze. There was something unreadable in his expression—still teasing, but softer than before.
She hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I don't."
Souta watched her for a moment longer before nodding. "Good."
Then, just as she thought the conversation was over, he reached out and flicked her forehead, grinning as she yelped. "Now get some sleep. You're going to need your energy—who knows what I'll make you do tomorrow?"
Pakura glared at him, rubbing her forehead. "You're the worst."
He just laughed, walking away.
Pakura sighed, shaking her head.
Maybe… just maybe, this wasn't so bad.
Night had fallen, and the room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains. Souta, ever the opportunist, had claimed her lap as his pillow, his head resting comfortably against her thighs. His breathing was slow and even, the teasing and mischief from earlier giving way to something more vulnerable in sleep.
Pakura sat still, almost afraid to move, lest she wake him. Her fingers hovered uncertainly above his hair before finally giving in. She combed them through the dark strands, slow and deliberate. He looked so different like this—without his usual smirk, without his sharp wit poised to get under her skin.
Her lips tingled at the memory of his kiss that morning. It had been unexpected, fleeting, yet it had left a mark far deeper than she had anticipated. Almost without thinking, she reached up, brushing her fingers against her lips.
"Now... Pakura, you are mine from now on. Don't worry, I will treat you the best way possible."
His voice echoed in her mind, deep and certain. It should have annoyed her, the sheer arrogance of his words, but instead, it made something stir in her chest—something warm and unfamiliar.
She sighed softly, glancing down at him again. Even in sleep, Souta had a way of invading her thoughts, of making her feel things she wasn't sure she wanted to feel. She had spent so much time alone, so much time guarding her heart, yet here he was, slipping past her defenses as if they were never there to begin with.
Her hand rested lightly against his forehead for a moment before she let it fall away.
Maybe she was just tired.
A soft sigh escaped Souta's lips as he shifted slightly, his head pressing further into her lap. Pakura hesitated before letting her fingers trace the curve of his cheek, the warmth of his skin beneath her touch making her heart flutter.
She had never been the type for sentimental moments, but right now, she let herself indulge. Carefully, she leaned down, pressing the lightest of kisses against his forehead.
"Idiot," she murmured under her breath, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Souta stirred slightly, but his eyes remained closed.
He was so insufferable when awake, always pushing her, always teasing. But like this—peaceful, resting, completely vulnerable—he was someone she could admit, if only to herself, that she was starting to care about.