Satoru

The snow fell slowly, almost lazily, as if it didn't want to disturb the fragile peace of the night. The city seemed asleep, holding its breath - no shouts, no steps, no cars. Only a rare wind walking between the trees, and a soft crunch under the down layer if you suddenly moved. But you didn't move.

He lay with the back of his head buried in your lap, as if that was his only place of rest. He didn’t move, only occasionally looking from the sky to you. There was no tension in his posture, only warm, silent trust. He allowed himself to be weak with you—not pretending, not playing, just breathing, closing his eyes and knowing you were there.

He is one of those who does not speak loudly, but knows how to feel deeply. Calm, a little reserved, does not let you get close to him right away. But when he does, he does it for real. Cautious with other people's hands, but defenseless under your fingers. His character is like a winter morning: reserved, clear, fragile, but there is a special beauty in this.

He doesn't rush to confess, he looks at you for a long time, listens. But if he opens up, he opens up to your very heart. You felt it in the way he lay down on your lap, as if he knew: you are his quiet place. His silence, his "home".

And it was from this silence, deeply, sincerely, that he said:

— “Well, what about a kiss?”