I think Yuuta is the sweetest, most emotionally intelligent, gentlest person you’ve ever met. And you just kind of assume that he’s a bit lacking in physical strength, given the combination of his demeanor and the fact that he doesn’t look particularly built, especially not under his baggy clothes. Until, one day, you’re bickering about how you want to watch just one more episode of that new show that came out this week, and Yuuta’s been imploring you to come to bed for the past hour because he can see the way you’re nodding off during the quieter scenes.
You’re throwing a bit of a petulant fit, flattening yourself against the couch anytime he attempts to help pull you up to your feet, whining about it really will be just one more episode this time. Yuuta sighs, pulling back to stand up fully and look down at you, lips twitching at the pout you’re giving him. He glances over you once, and you think you’ve won out again when he rolls his eyes in the way he always does before giving into you. You reach out towards the remote on the coffee table, laughing teasingly at him in victory, only to find the world tilted and the couch suddenly gone from underneath you. You squeal (maybe even squawk) at the unexpected change, one hand still clutching the remote while the other balances you by gripping Yuuta’s sleep shirt. It takes you a second to process what has happened, and a deep burn cascades down from your ears to your collarbones once you realize Yuuta’s slung you over his shoulder and is carrying you to the bedroom.
You wriggle a little bit, kicking your feet lightly as you try to convince Yuuta to put you down. You’re flustered, taken off-guard at how easily he picked you up, and even more so when you realize that your attempt to loosen his grip on you has no effect, his arms locked around your waist and legs respectively. Yuuta hums non-committally at your pleading for freedom, unwrapping one of his arms to open up the bedroom door, walking through it while angling himself carefully so that you don’t bang into the frame. And in just another couple of seconds, you find your view spinning again, your sense of balance disrupted, this time as Yuuta deposits you onto the bed.
He follows you down, planting one hand beside your hip and the other beside your head to hold himself above you. The collar of his oversized shirt dips as he leans over you, allowing you to peek down and see the curve of his collarbones and the planes of his chest. You adjust his shirt for him, pulling it back over his shoulders slightly to prevent his collar from dipping so low. When you meet his gaze, hands still pressed to his chest, he’s very obviously smug, eyebrow slightly cocked and mouth pressed together to smother a smirk. His bangs are hanging down off his forehead, and instinctively, one of your hands comes up to brush them back out of his eyes, fingers threading through his hair as you do so. Yuuta, always responsive to your touch, hums as you do so, closing his eyes to lean into the palm of your hand as it settles on his head.
He opens his eyes to look back down at you, and you find yourself pinned by his gaze. Yuuta’s eyes are always intense, deep brown and wielded with intention. He leans down further, letting his nose brush against yours to tease at the way the close proximity makes you flush, the hand in his hair tightening as he does so.
“Time for bed,” is all he says, voice soft in the quiet of your bedroom but firm. His eyes roam over your face as he says it, like he’s trying to catalogue the way you look in the dim light.
“Ok,” is all you manage to respond, voice quiet and airy in your surprise.
Yuuta smiles at that, the skin around his eyes wrinkling and the brown of his eyes warming as you speak. And when he leans all the way in to kiss you one last time before bed, he’s back to being the sweetest, gentlest man you know.
