[ His heart sinks when he hears Goro’s voice and sees the surprise in his eyes, feeling guilt in every muscle in his body. Appetite gone, he picks at the pizza crust in his hands. When that goes nowhere, he leaves it in the cardboard box, intending to get back to it when hunger returns. ]

I don’t... I was just hoping you found that here—that you’re happy.

[ Instead of looking at Goro, he keeps his gaze down and fixates on wiping his hands with the napkin, almost obsessively. It keeps this heightened anxiety from boiling over, but his mind still races. He made a mistake. What should he say? Should he leave? Would that be better? Though he’s hyperfocused on something else, he can sense the irritation, he can hear the frown and frustration; it makes the air heavier as it is stale. Was there any doubt in his mind? No. He’s sure, very sure. He trusts Goro enough to sleep in the same house with him, the same room, and the same bed.

Then why does it feel like they’re so far away at times? They can be sitting next to each other, enjoying their time, and he’s facing a mental closing door the next second. The bright, cheerful smile can embrace him with its infectious ardor, yet the cold and worries come in droves. ]

I should have worded that better. [ ... ] Or I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry.