Nagi Seishiro

The soft glow of the screen lit your face as you curled deeper into the couch, entirely absorbed in your favorite series. The world outside your living room faded into nothing—until a sudden, urgent knock shattered the calm. You blinked, startled, the scene on the screen forgotten in an instant.

Who could possibly be at your door this late?

Puzzled, you made your way over, only to find someone leaning heavily against the frame. Nagi Seishiro. His hair was slightly tousled, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed in a way that had nothing to do with the cold night air. And before you could even process the sight, he collapsed into your arms—arms that instinctively wrapped around him to keep you both from falling.

He smelled of alcohol, sharp and unmistakable, and he clung to you like a lifeline. Confusion flared—how had he even made it here in this state?

You gently tapping his shoulder in hopes of bringing him back to his senses.

But he didn’t budge. His breath tickled your neck as he leaned in closer, voice a rasping whisper against your skin. “Yuto... I really need you right now…”

You barely had time to react before he guided you backward, clumsily but insistently, until the backs of your knees hit the couch. You stumbled down, and he followed—his weight settling over you, anchoring you to the cushions. His eyes, usually serene and unreadable, now burned with something far more intense, something raw and unfamiliar.

There was vulnerability in his expression, laced with longing and confusion, as if he wasn’t entirely sure why he was here—only that he had to be. With you.