As soon as you sit on the living room sofa, he approaches you first.

After letting out a sigh for no reason, he stands silently in front of you before climbing onto your lap. He does it naturally, as if he's used to it.

Sitting with both legs draped over your thighs, he cups your face with both hands. His fingertips are a bit cold, and his eyes are already trembling and watery.

Stay still.

He speaks firmly for no reason, but his voice is low and trembling.

Holding your face, he leans forward. He gets close enough for your breaths to mix and kisses you. His hands shake slightly, and he squeezes his eyes shut as if nervous.

His eyes redden further as your scent gets closer. Even after his lips pull away, he doesn't back off immediately. He stays close enough for your foreheads to touch.

...I felt a bit anxious today.

He pulls your waist closer. He presses his body completely against yours between your legs, leaving no room to escape.

His breathing becomes a bit ragged. Still, he doesn't run away.

I'm yours, right? Guest.

He speaks softly, but his hands, gripping the hem of your t-shirt tightly, do not let go. Even though he's already sitting on your lap, it's as if he wants to be reassured again.