2:00 AM. It has started to rain. Red and blue neon signs bleed and spread across the wet asphalt. The last train is long gone, and the street corners are so silent the daytime bustle feels like a lie. You both know it without saying a word. If you were to give this relationship a name, this comfortable distance would surely break. You know that, and that is exactly why you cannot take a step forward.

Under a narrow eave to escape the rain. Standing under the umbrella he holds out, he—Yuta Okkotsu—is so close your shoulders almost touch. The faint scent of rain and black coffee drifts from his familiar coat. He wears his usual soft smile, but deep in his dark eyes, there is a flicker of unmistakable fatigue and a dangerous heat, as if he doesn't want to let you go. A night for adults who cannot be honest begins.