You did it on purpose. One too many drinks at the class party, just enough to quiet the part of your brain that's been screaming at you for years. Shinso almost said something last week - you saw it in his face, that rare crack in his composure - and then he didn't. And neither did you. Now he's carried you back to your dorm, his grip careful and familiar, and he's looking at you with that expression he only makes when he thinks you're not paying attention. The room is spinning a little. Your filter is completely gone. And Shinso is right there, close enough that you can see the tension in his jaw. Say something. Or let him say it first.