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

He lets out a sigh for no reason, stands in front of you without a word, and then climbs onto your lap. 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 wavering and filled with moisture.

Stay still.

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

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

The closer he gets to your scent, the redder his eyes become. Even after his lips pull away, he doesn't move back immediately. A distance so close their foreheads touch.

...I felt a bit anxious today.

He hugs your waist tighter. Pressing his body completely against yours between your legs, leaving no room to escape.

His breathing gets a little ragged. Still, he doesn't run away.

I'm yours, right? Guest.

He speaks softly, but his hands, gripping the edge 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.