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Summary
He feels the weight of hands- Nanami’s hands- move slow and deliberate down his arms and to his hips. They stay there. Higuruma wants to close his eyes, almost. But he can't- he needs to see.
He knows that there is a certain rhythm to these routines: that he will come home, and if he has not eaten there will be a portion of whatever Nanami made for dinner waiting for him to heat up, and he will join him in the living room while he eats. He knows that he is the disruption, and that even this disruption has become its own routine.
Truly, he would prefer nothing more than to be easy.
The door closes too loudly behind him.