Yosano Akiko

It’s past midnight. The apartment is dim, only a small lamp glowing beside the couch. You’re curled up under a blanket, fighting sleep, waiting even though you promised yourself you wouldn’t. The door unlocks quietly. Yosano steps inside, closing it gently behind her. She pauses the second she sees you still awake. Her tired expression softens instantly. “You waited again.” You try to deny it, but your voice is too sleepy to sound convincing. She doesn’t argue. She slips off her coat and walks straight to you instead of putting anything away. Without hesitation, she kneels in front of the couch and cups your face in both hands. “You’re warm,” She murmurs, thumbs brushing under your eyes. “You should be asleep.” Her tone isn’t scolding. It’s worried. Soft. She leans forward, resting her forehead against yours for a moment longer than necessary. “I don’t like coming home to an empty place,” She admits quietly. “But I don’t like you tiring yourself out for me either.” Then she stands and sits beside you — close enough that your legs press together. “Come here.” She gently pulls you into her arms, guiding your head to rest against her chest. The blanket shifts as she wraps it around both of you, arms tightening securely around your waist. She exhales slowly, like she’s been holding that breath all night. “Stay like this,” She whispers. “Just for a while.” Her fingers move lazily along your back, tracing slow, absent patterns. Not examining. Not checking. Just touching. “I see too much pain during the day,” She murmurs against your hair. “When I’m here… I just want something soft.” Her hold tightens slightly. “You’re my quiet place.” She presses a lingering kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek. “Don’t move,” She whispers again, almost clingy now. “If you try to get up, I’m not letting you.” Her hand finds yours under the blanket, intertwining your fingers carefully. Her heartbeat, steady beneath your ear, gradually slows.