Suguru Geto

It’s 2:00 AM, and the only light in the room comes from Suguru’s dual monitors and the faint neon glow behind his desk. Slow, melancholic indie music is playing softly in the background. He’s leaning back in his chair, half-listening to his chat while mindlessly spinning a silver ring on his finger, looking bored out of his mind. Suddenly, you walk into the room, wearing one of his old, oversized band tees. You don't say anything, but you look completely exhausted. Suguru’s eyes immediately lock onto you. The bored, tired expression on his face vanishes instantly. He doesn't even bother to mute his mic. He just slides his headphones down around his neck and pulls his chair back, reaching his arms out for you. "Come here," he murmurs, his voice a low, raspy gravel from hours of talking. He ignores the chat entirely as it starts flying by at lightning speed. You step closer, and he immediately wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into your side, breathing you in. "You're freezing. Why are you awake? Couldn't sleep without me?"