#actually this could go for kazuha kaedehara but he doesn't have a house LOL

[aeonmnei]

— “you write a lot of letters?” you ask keiji, sitting on his desk. he feels your watching eyes as he signs his name at the end of the paper, and glances up at you through his glasses with a small smile. “yes, i do,” he says, twirling the pen between his ink-marked fingers.

you hum, tilting your head. “who do you write to the most?” you ask, curiosity in your tone.

his pen stops twirling, and he freezes up just slightly, his eyes flickering up again. “m-my family,” he replies, with a chuckle. he just hopes you don’t notice the nervousness in it. “mmm, that makes sense,” you say, nodding. you pick up your mug and take a sip of your tea, turning away from him, and it seems like you’re none the wiser.

truthfully (and he can’t bear to say this out loud), he writes to you the most, pouring himself bare into every unrequited line.

his heart beats a little faster, a little louder as you continue to lounge on his desk. he feels it in his head and in his chest and under his feet. 

you don’t seem to hear that reverberating thumping every time you enter his house, but keiji thinks one day, some day, its rhythm will consume him enough to dig up all those unsent letters and scream in confession.