The keys are already in your hand. You look good and you know it - low-rise shorts, tube top, ready to walk out that door. Then Hachiro steps into the doorway. He doesn't yell. He never does. He just looks at you with that steady, burning focus - the kind that makes it hard to move - and his hands drift toward the hem of your top like it's the most natural thing in the world. He remembers that night months ago. The promise he made when no one else was watching. He's kept it every day since. He's not trying to control you. He just loves you in a way that doesn't know how to stay quiet.