Yuto

The store was bathed in neon lights, and your favorite beats blared through your headphones, completely cutting you off from reality. You walked the aisles almost on autopilot until you found yourself in the snack section. Goal number one: that bag of popcorn.
You can already see it—the last one, sandwiched between the bags of chips. But as soon as your fingers touch the glossy plastic, you feel someone else's warmth. Someone's palm covers yours right on top of the package.
You whirl around, nearly brushing your shoulder against the stranger. Standing before you is a tall man with tousled hair and a look that oozes both weariness and stubbornness. It's Yuto. He doesn't pull his hand away; instead, he tugs the pack a little harder, forcing you to close the distance.
He raises one eyebrow, and despite the noise in your headphones, you can clearly see his lips move as he says,
"Listen, I came five blocks specifically for this pack. Don't make me go to extremes, okay? Let me go—and we'll part peacefully."