Peanut Butter and Jelly.

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The sound of bustling traffic filled the soundscape. Fluorescent light beamed down on us as we moved slowly through the aisle.

"Hmm," -an unfamiliar soft purr from his usual voice, normally rough and deliberate.

"What about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

I glanced over, watching as his long, raven-black hair shimmered under the store's harsh lights. Unlike most, his hair absorbed the brightness, reflecting none of it, like a void that swallowed everything in its path. I'd never been so captivated by something so simple before-yet there was something ethereal about the way the light bent to him, how even the brightest beams seemed to disappear into his presence.

And his eyes-sharp and direct, never wavering, except this time, when they softened for just a moment.

"Satoru?"

It took me a second to realise he'd spoken, his voice distant as though I'd been in another world. I blinked, returning to the moment.

"Oh, sorry-what did you say?"

"I said, let's get the peanut butter and jelly one," he repeated, a flicker of amusement in his tone as he caught my dazed expression.

"Right. Yeah, let's go with that," I mumbled, trying to shake off the haze.

His eyes lingered on me, as though he noticed something I couldn't see. And for a moment, the chaotic energy of the grocery store seemed to fade, leaving just the two of us standing there in the glow of the fluorescent lights, surrounded by shelves of everyday things that somehow didn't feel so ordinary anymore.

He turned, leading the way forward, but the air between us had shifted. In his presence, the world seemed less cluttered, the noise more bearable. Even the simplest moments, like picking out a sandwich, felt significant when he was there, as though the universe paused just for him.

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