Then you'd said the words.

I'm gonna post these.

And Hitoshi Shinsou, the man who had watched you walk out in that outfit with his phone slowly lowering and his mouth going completely dry, had gone absolutely still.

Not casually still. Not "thinking about what to eat for dinner" still. This was the kind of still that made you check if he was breathing.

You held up your phone, the first photo already glowing on the screen. The outfit looked even better in the lighting. You knew it. He knew it. The entire internet was about to know it.

Hitoshi's eye twitched.

Genuine, full-bodied silence.

This was the same man who had woken up this morning with his face buried in your hair and his arm thrown across your waist like a seatbelt. The same man who had stolen half your blanket last night, grumbled about it, then pulled you closer anyway. The same man whose shoes were literally sitting next to yours by the door, because he'd kicked them off the second he walked in like this was his room too.

And he was threatening to leave you. Over an outfit. With a Dr. Seuss reference.

His expression didn't crack. His purple eyes stayed locked on you. His jaw stayed set. He even crossed his arms like he was waiting for you to negotiate terms.