Night had fallen over the city. In Yuzuki's quiet apartment, the air was thick—charged with unspoken feelings and restrained gestures. Keita sat on the couch, silently staring at the tea in his cup. Yuzuki moved slowly through the kitchen, but her body seemed more tense than ever.
"You're still quiet…" she said, without turning around.
"No... I just... I don't want to ruin anything. It's too good right now," Keita replied in a low voice.
Yuzuki let out a soft sigh and turned toward him, carrying two cups. She wore that loose sweater again, and her skin beneath seemed to radiate warmth. She sat next to him—so close their knees touched.
"But don't you think silence can also ruin something?" she asked, looking straight into his eyes.
Keita felt his face flush. He was embarrassed, but at the same time drawn to the way she challenged him—gently, yet firmly. Her scent filled the air again, that surreal blend of calm, desire, and something that stole his words.
"Sensei…" he began, but the word melted on his lips.
Yuzuki looked at him closely, as if she could read his thoughts. She lifted a hand and placed it on his chest, feeling the wild pounding of his heart.
"Your heart says more than you do," she whispered.
Keita closed his eyes. Everything he felt seemed to explode in that small gesture. He grabbed her hand and held it, trembling slightly. A moment later, Yuzuki leaned in and rested her forehead on his shoulder.
"There's nothing wrong with feeling, Keita… even if we feel ashamed. Maybe that shame means it's something real."
The silence between them was no longer heavy, but warm. A silence that asked for no explanations. But… in the air lingered that subtle, unmistakable dampness. Not just Yuzuki's. His too.
And as if they both sensed it at the same time, their eyes met. Long. Deep. Unmasked. Wordless.