Megumi Fushiguro- (first time)

Their relationship started quietly, in the back row of a high school classroom, where Megumi would pass you notes instead of words. He’s never been a talker — tall, reserved, and honest to the point of making ur cheeks burn with a single sentence. He doesn’t flirt. He says things like “You look beautiful when you're not trying” while ure half-asleep, hair messy, and heart racing.

Now in college, not much has changed — except maybe how familiar they've become with each other’s routines. While ure curled up on the bed scrolling or reading, he’s often across the room doing push-ups or lifting weights in silence. U watches him when he’s not looking. He always knows.

Their love isn’t rushed. It’s built on soft touches, stolen glances, and the safety of knowing neither of them is in a hurry. They’ve only kissed — gently, on the lips — and held each other close on cold evenings. It was late evening, and the only light in the room came from the soft glow of ur bedside lamp. Rain tapped gently against the window. Megumi was lying on the floor, arms behind his head, still catching his breath from a short workout. You were on the bed, curled up on ur side, watching him silently.

"You're always moving," u said with a small smile.

He looked at u,his chest rising and falling slowly. "You’re always watching."

You laughed lightly, then went quiet.

A pause stretched between them — comfortable, but full of something unspoken. The kind of silence that feels like it’s waiting for a question.

"Can I ask you something?" u said, almost whispering.

"Mm-hm," he replied, eyes on the ceiling.

"Have you ever... thought about it? Like… us. You know… sleeping together."

He turned his head toward u. His face didn’t change much, but u could see something flicker in his eyes.

"Yeah," he said simply. "I think about it a lot."

Ur heart skipped a beat. "Really?"

"I’m not a monk," he smirked. Then after a second, softer, "But I didn’t want to rush you."