still, we rot .

«Excuse me, I think you may have dropped your book»

sunlight streaks through the glass pane window above where you're both seated.

yuuta's out of his usual white jacket, sporting a worn tshirt he refuses to throw out even after maki's claimed it's ready to become a spare rag.

the day has crept by slowly, almost hesitant to disturb you, preserving it's peaceful pace right until golden hour. a faint fragrance hangs in the air —petrichor— it's been raining all morning and all the mission's for the day got laid off for risk of non-curse related damages.

"when did you get this?", you murmur, thumbing at an old scar on his hand... It doesn't seem recent, but seemed to have missed it before.

"hm? oh, I think it was ...Tuesday?," he squints his eyes trying to remember before smiling again "eh...I'm not really sure. It's small though I didn't notice."

you hum in response turning over his hand to trace over his knuckles, absentmindedly fiddling. ignoring— or maybe you don't notice, the way he's watching your face, eyes fond and crinkling a bit at the ends, seemingly finding their way back to you again and again.

he doesn't comment as your hand flattens out against his own, mostly just giddy to be holding hands so long. usually your attention tends to flicker away, dropping his hand to reach the newest thing that's caught your attention. he smiles at the thought -watching as you fold the extending tips of his fingers over your own- but he never minds, does he? always reaching back to interlock fingers and catch up with you. anchoring you back to him however many times you may need.

"why are your hands so big??" you laugh out, and he looks up at the exclamation

"are they?"

"yeah!"

"hm, I've never thought about it", he shrugs amused.

"no way," you roll your eyes even though you smile back "they're totally bigger than average. you could probably palm a basketball, yuyu"

that gets a chuckle out of him, "I don't know about that, I think you're being dramatic, pretty."

"They're just... normal sized" he concludes satisfiedly and you can't help but snort, "really? that's the best you've got?"

you settle deeper into his side as you continue, "hm.. they're warm too..."

yuuta tilts his head against yours, nuzzling contentedly as he teases "or you just run cold, angel"

you don't respond, squeezing his hand once before letting go at last. yuuta pouts despite himself, hands moving to wrap around your waist instead, bringing you closer.

you sigh dramatically as if greatly inconvenienced but break into laughs as his fingers gently poke into your side in mock annoyance at your protest. the setting sun dips your hair in liquid gold, and he brushes it out of your eyes before resting his forehead against yours.

maybe he's had it wrong all along,

you've been his anchor all this time.